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samanthadalton · 3 years

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So we meet again

This was an idea that popped into my head and I just had to write it, I’ve been having the worst writer’s block so I’m really glad this fic is helping me to break out of it, I hope you guys enjoy!

pairings: Poppy x Bea

there’s some swearing so just be mindful, also Poppy is in a hetero relationship (but dw it doesn’t last)

taglist: @cloud9in @somewillwin @baexpoppy @save-me-the-last-dance @helpconfusedpersonhere @dopeyouth @iamsimpforpoppy @alleycat97 @alexlabhont @thedaft1 (if anyone wants to be added or taken off my poppy taglist just let me know)

word count: 3.5k (its worth it i promise)

Poppy stares at herself in her compact mirror, carefully applying another coat of lipstick before puckering her lips and putting the mirror back in her bag. She runs a hand through her hair, smoothing down the baby hairs that stick up at the front, she always hated those little hairs. The car door suddenly opens and a hand appears stretched out waiting for the girl. Poppy slides her hand into the awaiting hand, sliding out of the car with the utmost grace, and once she’s out, she brings down her hands to smooth out the creases in her dress before turning to her partner with a smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he replies with a curt nod. He lifts his arm up and Poppy wraps her arm around it, “shall we?” They’re led inside the restaurant and into one of the more private tables near the back and handed a menu as they sit in their seats.

“Mmm, this is a nice place, how did you find it?” Poppy’s gaze darts around the room, appraising the lavish decor, a small smile on her lips.

“It recently opened up and a good friend of mine recommended it, I thought it would be the perfect place for our anniversary.” He gives Poppy a wide grin before taking her hand in his, placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles.

“Can I take your order?” The voice makes Poppy freeze in her seat, the familiarity of the smooth midwestern tone, washing all over her, she slowly raises her head to see Bea Hughes standing in front of the table, a pen and notebook in her hands as she looks expectedly at the couple. “Do you need more time?” Her tone is almost comical as she gives the strawberry blonde a small smirk.

“Bea Hughes,” Poppy says with feigned disinterest, “Why am I not surprised you’d end up in a job as dismal as a waitress.”

“Poppy!” her partner calls out, his tone slightly reprimanding, “I apologise.” His gaze flits between Bea and Poppy, discerning the tension between the two women, “I take it you know each other?” his hand gestures between Bea and Poppy.

“You could say something like that,” Bea retorts, her eyes twinkling impishly, Poppy scoffs and awkwardly glances down, busying herself by turning her attention to the menu in front of her. “We were college friends.”

“We weren’t friends,” Poppy bluntly states, as she glances up, raising an eyebrow at the girl. “We were merely...acquaintances.”

Bea bites back a retort before turning her attention to Poppy’s companion, “Sorry I haven’t caught your name yet,” she raises her hand towards the gentleman who takes her hand giving her a sturdy handshake.

“Darren.”

Bea glances at Poppy, a hint of amusement in her face, “Darren.” She glances back at Darren, “And how do you know our dear Poppy?”

“I’m her boyfriend.”

Bea’s eyebrows shoot up, “boyfriend? Huh.” She looks at Poppy who looks like she’s a couple of seconds from exploding as her cheeks flush with an intense red.

“Can we place our order now?” Darren inquires, his tone slightly agitated as he gives Bea a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Bea clears her throat before plastering a smile on her face.

“Of course, what would you guys like?”

“I’ll have the beef bourguignon and Miss Min Sinclair will have the parmesan risotto with roasted shrimp.” Bea raises a subtle eyebrow, surprised at the forwardness of Poppy’s boyfriend but even more so from Poppy’s submissiveness. “Oh also a bottle of your finest wine, I don’t care about the price.”

Bea expertly hides her annoyance, “of course, I’ll have someone bring that to you.”

A couple of hours go by as Bea watches from afar while Poppy clinks her glass with Darren’s, a boisterous laugh coming out of her as she engages in conversation with him. Bea watches with a frown, her eyes narrowed as she assesses Poppy’s demeanour, the strawberry blonde’s back is abnormally straight, her posture expertly rigid. She abruptly stands and makes her way towards the bathroom. Bea finds her opportunity and follows Poppy, confronting the strawberry blonde.

“Stalking me now?” Poppy says, her tone unfazed as she fixes her makeup in the mirror, not even bothering to spare a glance at Bea.

“It’s been what three, four years and that’s all you can say to me?” Bea hides the hurt in her voice as her eyes find Poppy’s in the mirror.

“I don’t know what you want me to say Farmsville, I just want to enjoy a nice night out with my boyfriend.”

Bea snorts, “yeah you’re having such a great time,” she retorts, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

That seems to agitate Poppy as she turns to face Bea, her face scrunched into a scowl, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Bea takes a careful step towards Poppy, “it means you don’t really like him.”

Poppy lets out an airy laugh, “oh because you know me so well?”

“Well enough to know he isn’t good enough for you.”

Poppy gapes her mouth open slightly, startled at the intensity of Bea’s admission. She quickly masks her surprise by snapping back, “and you think you are? Please I have higher standards than wanting to mess around with a waitress.”

“Actually…” Bea smirks at Poppy, “I own the place.” She steps closer to Poppy, keeping a safe distance from the strawberry blonde but close enough to almost feel the heat radiate from her body.

“What?” Poppy splutters, she shakes her head with skepticism, “you’re lying.”

“You wanna see the certificate? Did you not once wonder why I’m wearing a fancy suit and everyone else is just wearing a shirt and trousers?”

“I-” Poppy says stunned. Her expression turns to slight anger, brows furrowing together, “so why the hell did you serve my table?”

Bea shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, which frustrates Poppy even more, “I don’t know, guess I wanted to see how you would react when you see me. I mean didn’t the restaurant name give you any indication? Digne d'une reine,” Bea says with an exaggerated french accent.

“Fit for a queen,” Poppy whispers as she looks up at Bea, her expression softening, “you remembered.”

“I never forgot,” Bea says, her voice low as she leans in, her eyes searching Poppy’s, awaiting for her permission. Poppy bites her lip slightly before pressing her lips against Bea’s. The kiss quickly grows fervent as Bea’s hands slip around Poppy’s waist pulling her closer while Poppy’s arms snake around Bea’s neck. The bathroom door suddenly opens and the two women pull apart, quickly composing themselves.

“I need to go,” Poppy whispers as she promptly trudges out of the bathroom, not daring to look back at Bea. Bea watches as Poppy stalks over to the table, hastily whispering in Darren’s ear as he gets up from his seat. Poppy throws a couple of hundreds on the table and walks out of the restaurant. Bea feels a pang in her heart as Poppy walks out of her life once again, unable to stop her once again.

…..

A couple of days later, Bea sits in Zoey’s apartment, recalling the night she saw Poppy as Zoey listens intently, a worried look on her face.

“Bea you already know what I’m going to say,” Zoey says, a sharpness in her tone.

“It’s different now, we’ve both grown up,” Bea responds, defensively.

“She broke your heart before and you guys weren’t even dating.”

“Not officially but there was something there,” Zoey raises her eyebrow dubiously earning a sigh from Bea. “Zoey this guy that she’s seeing is a total douche.”

“Isn’t that her type?” Zoey jests.

“I’m serious Zo, when have you ever known Poppy not to speak for herself?”

“Never?” Zoey quickly replies.

“Exactly! This guy didn’t even let her order her own food.”

“Maybe because he knew what she wanted.”

“No,” Bea shakes her head, “he ordered her a risotto, a freaking risotto Zo.”

“Bea...Poppy Min Sinclair is like a black hole, don’t let her suck you back into her life like this, okay it took you ages to get over her.”

Bea sighs defeatedly, “you don’t need to worry, I don’t think I’ll see her ever again.” A noticeable sadness swims in Bea’s eyes and Zoey can’t help but feel a pang of worry in her chest. Wordlessly, she wraps her arms around Bea and pulls her in for a comforting hug.

Bea’s phone buzzes pulling her out of the moment as she reaches out to check her messages, “anyone important?”

“Crap,” Bea sniffles wiping away the tears in her eyes, “someone hired us last minute to cater for an event tonight and I have to oversee it.”

Zoey unwraps her arms, and gives Bea a small pat on her back, “remember, no more thinking about Poppy.”

Bea nods and plasters a smile on her face, “no more Poppy.”

…..

Bea oversees the caters, giving out orders as they prepare dinner while the rest of the guests settle inside the hall, she fixes the strap of her dress as walks into the hall and assesses the tables making sure all of them have a basket of bread on them.

“What the fuck Farmsville, do I need a restaining order?”

Bea sighs before facing the strawberry blonde, her mind flashing back to the memory of them kissing a couple of days ago, and she feels the heat rising to her cheeks. “I’m not following you Pops.”

“Then what the fuck at you doing here?” Poppy conspicuously looks around the room, hoping no one has noticed the altercation between her and Bea.

“I was hired to cater for this event Pops,” Bea says her tone flat as she remembers Zoey’s words of not letting Poppy back into her life. “I’m just doing my job, don’t worry I’ll stay away.” Bea sees an anguished expression flash across Poppy’s face before she replaces it with a trained blank look. Before Bea can help herself, she finds her eyes wandering down Poppy’s body, taking in the dress she’s wearing and how perfectly it fits around her body.

A cat-like smirk appears on Poppy’s face as she watches the girl appraise her, “see something you like?”

Bea snaps her gaze back up to Poppy, a sheepish smile on her face, “sorry,” she mumbles out, “I’m just surprised.”

Poppy raises an eyebrow, “surprised?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not wearing pink.”

“Right,” Poppy smooths down her black dress, “well black usually alludes power and authority and I need that for tonight if I’m going to impress these investors tonight. And I’m wearing my lucky pink underwear.” Realising what she’s just said, Poppy’s eyes widen as she takes a step back from Bea, “I should get back.”

“Uh right, okay,” Bea says softly as Poppy gives Bea a curt nod before walking away, joining her boyfriend at the head table. “Great going Bea,” she whispers dejectedly to herself before fixating her attention on just trying to get through the rest of the night.

Poppy is almost like a beacon, drawing in all sorts of audiences as she entices the guests with her business knowledge while her boyfriend stays by her side, practically attached to her. Poppy and Bea share a few glances but whenever they make eye contact they both awkwardly glance away. While the guests are eating, Bea slips away to take her break, making her way to the balcony, grateful it’s empty. She pulls a single cigarette from her packet before putting it between her lips. Once she puts the lighter down, she takes a huge huff, attempting to subdue all the stress of tonight.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker,” a voice calls out from behind her, Bea doesn’t need to look back to know it’s Poppy.

“Well I try not to make a habit out of it, only smoke when I’m stressed.” Poppy saunters over to Bea and lifts her hand up expectantly, Bea raises an eyebrow before pulling the cigarette out of her mouth placing it in Poppy’s hand. “Didn’t take you for a smoker either.”

Poppy takes a large inhale, before blowing the smoke out, she keeps her eyes trained on the view of the city, “only smoke when I’m stressed.” In her peripheral vision, Bea can see a hint of a smile on Poppy’s lips and she feels the butterflies in her stomach.

“So… how’s life been since Belvoire?”

“Is this your attempt at small talk?” Poppy cynically replies.

“Just want to know how you’ve been.”

Poppy sighs, “alright I’ll take the bait,” she puckers her lips as if she’s in deep thought before answering, “I’m slowly taking over my father’s empire, travelled a bit and..” she trails off.

“And you met Darren,” Bea snidefully adds.

“And I met Darren.” Poppy turns her head to glance at Bea, “you don’t like him,” she says as a statement.

“Just wondering how you guys met I guess, I mean he’s good looking or whatever but a total snob.”

“Didn’t you think I was a snob too?”

“I still do, extremely presumptuous too,” that comment elicits a small chuckle from Poppy, “but he seems like an ass. I’ve been watching the way he’s been treating my staff tonight, let’s just say they’re purposely sabotaging his food.”

“He wasn’t always like this you know, when we first met he was the sweetest guy. I didn’t really like him that much but he kept surprising me and eventually I agreed to go out with him.” Poppy gazes down at the mostly burnt out cigarette, she throws it onto the floor, squashing it with her heel before looking at Bea, “I guess it’s only fitting I ask too, how’s life been for you?”

Bea sharply inhales, “good, I mean I own two restaurants-”

“Wait two? What’s the second?”

“You’re going to make fun of me.”

“I probably will but tell me anyway,” Poppy jests, her grin widens as she relaxes more in Bea’s presence.

“It’s a diner downtown, I named it Farmsville.”

Poppy lets out a laugh, one that seems more genuine than the chuckles she’s been letting out tonight, “seriously?”

“I’m dead serious,” Bea responds, her own smile widening as she laughs along with the strawberry blonde, “the tagline is a little taste of home.”

“So both of your restaurants’ names revolve around me?” Poppy raises a playful eyebrow at the girl but Bea doesn’t answer, she just gives Poppy a small wink before swiftly changing the subject.

“How are Veronica and Chloe?”

“Well V actually managed to become a big time influencer, we see each other from time to time when she’s in New York. Chloe on the other hand,” Poppy trails off, “she’s decided to go into fashion.”

“Why do you say that like she’s made a bad decision?”

“Well her eye for style isn’t exactly the best, she always comes up with the most ludacris stuff, like old Lady Gaga style stuff.”

Bea lets out an airy laugh, “let’s hope no one’s shown her the iconic meat dress.”

“How’s new money?”

“Zoey,” Bea enunciates as she gives Poppy a look, “is great, we see each other regularly since she has a studio in New York. I just hung out with her a couple of days ago.”

“Oh?” Poppy says indifferently.

“Yep, I told her about you.”

Poppy raises an eyebrow at Bea, “what exactly did you tell her?”

“Just how we bumped into each other,” she sees the worry flash across Poppy’s face, “don’t worry I didn’t tell her about our kiss.”

“Bea..don’t.”

“We kissed Pops, you can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Bea stop,” Poppy commandly says, a tinge of anger in her tone, “I have a boyfriend and I’m building something here, you can’t just-”

“Just what? There was something between us Pops.”

Poppy puts a hand up cutting Bea off, her gaze trained to the floor, “Bea it was just sex, you thought it was something more and then got hurt when I broke it off.”

Bea scoffs, “is that you’ve been telling yourself all these years? That it was just sex?” The pain in Bea’s voice is explicit, she doesn’t hold herself back. “Maybe it was sex at first but there was something there, I didn’t imagine it.” Poppy presses her lips together in a thin line, still unable to meet Bea’s gaze. “What about the nights you’d ask me to stay so I could hold you, or the nights we’d talk about our hopes and dreams. Just because we weren’t officially dating doesn’t mean feelings weren’t involved. You were just a coward and you ran away.”

That seems to spur Poppy as her gaze snaps to Bea, a fire burning in her eyes, “I’m a coward?”

“If it didn’t mean anything to you, look me in my eyes right now and tell me that it was just meaningless sex, that all those nights we spent together meant nothing to you and I swear Poppy I’ll walk away right now and I’ll let you go.”

Poppy stares intensely into Bea’s, she sees the hurt mixed in with fear as she feels a pang in her own heart, “I-”

“Bea? There’s an issue with the desserts,” the voice calls out to them, jerking the two girls away from each other.

“Thanks Cass, I’ll be there in a minute.” The worker gives Bea a nod before heading back into the hall, “I guess that’s my break over,” Bea looks over at Poppy to see her expression abashed, “I’ll see you around I guess.” Bea leaves through the balcony doors and for the first time Poppy watches Bea walk away from her.

After a few moments, Poppy pulls herself together, she breathes in the crisp air letting it settle into her lungs, as she plasters on a wide smile before entering the hall again. She makes a beeline for her table and when she settles in, Darren wraps his arm around her, before whispering in her ear, “where the hell were you?” although he has a smile on his face, his tone is full of malice.

Poppy gulps slightly, before whispering back, “I just needed some air.”

“So why do you smell of smoke?”

Something in Poppy seems to snap and when she faces Darren her eyes are blazing with fury, “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but you’re not my damn keeper,” her voice reverterbrates slightly, capturing the attention of the people on her table. “I know you’re only using me for my father’s approval, but I’m a Min fucking Sinclair, I don’t need anyone especially you trying to tell me how to live my life. I’ve been on top my entire life and I don’t intend ever letting anyone take that from me, especially not a self pompous ass who doesn’t care about anyone but himself.” Darren’s face goes completely pale as he watches Poppy leave, unable to utter a single syllable.

Poppy leaves through the back in order to avoid the looks and whispers of the guests but as she opens the door she comes face to face to Bea who’s packing up a delivery truck. Bea looks over to see a haunted look on Poppy’s face and throws the box in her hands into the truck before approaching her.

“Pops, what’s wrong?”

“I’m done running away Bea, I’m done with trying to let people tell me how to live, I’m done with it.” She hesitantly reaches out to Bea, her hand just hovering over Bea’s, “you were right before, I was being a coward. I saw myself falling for you and I was scared that you would break my heart or I would do something to fuck it all up, so I ended whatever we had so we both couldn’t get hurt.” Her fingers lace with Bea’s as she looks up to her girl, her voice low, “I guess it was too late for that.” Poppy watches Bea’s expression closely, she watches as the girl’s brows furrow.

“Pops, you broke my heart.”

“I know.”

“You know how hard it was to get over you? I mean I know it’s stupid since we weren’t actually together but that’s how much of an effect you had on me, Poppy Min Sinclair.” She takes a step closer to the strawberry blonde cupping her cheeks with both hands, “the funny thing is, I don’t think I ever got over you, not completely.”

“I don’t think I did either, I know we were practically enemies at first but somewhere along the line that changed, and it scared the shit out of me.”

“It scared me too.” Bea leans in, her lips ghosting around Poppy’s, “I know it’s been years and we’ve probably grown and changed a lot since college but,” her eyes bore into Poppy’s as if she’s looking right into her very soul, “I want you.”

Bea presses her lips into Poppy’s, passion immediately building up in the kiss as Bea leads Poppy backwards, pushing her back up against the wall. Poppy moans, wrapping her arms around Bea’s neck pulling her even closer. Bea breaks the kiss and begins placing open mouthed kisses across Poppy’s jaw before taking the strawberry blonde’s earlobe in between her teeth, giving it a small bite. “God,” Poppy groans out, “stop with the foreplay farmsville.”

Poppy feels Bea breaking into a wide smile against the crook of her neck, “I guess some things don’t change.”

#playchoices #queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #hope you guys enjoy

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cyantomatos · 2 years

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Day 19 of my December prompt list. The whole list can be found here.

❗❗Discussion of drinking/being drunk.❗❗

Prompt: Kissing Booth | Shopping | Eggnog

Character: Ezra

“Ez, honey, you’re drunk.” Your husband swings to look at you in that definitely-drunk over-exaggerated way, indignance written all over his face.

“I am not drunk, stardust. There is simply no possibility I am drunk, eggnog contains no alcohol.” He sounds so sure of himself, giving a definitive nod at the end, like that will make his words more true.

You arch an eyebrow at him, reaching around to the counter behind him where an empty carton of eggnog sits. “No, it usually doesn't.” You instead snag the half empty bottle of rum sitting next to it, holding it up. He gives it a confused look, like you pulled the offending bottle out of thin air. “Until you add the alcohol, which you did.”

The frown deepens, directed entirely at the bottle in your hand. It looks like he’s trying to discern the secrets of the universe from the amber liquid within. After a long moment he looks back up at you, attempting a charming smile that looks a little wobbly.

“That couldn’t possibly have been me, my dear. I would never-” He cuts off, stumbling backwards slightly as he loses his balance, continuing on after like nothing happened. “I would never. And,” He holds up a finger, expression suddenly going comically serious. “I would remember if I did such a thing.”

A snicker from your left draws your attention, and you turn to see Cee standing in the doorway to the small kitchen, a hand covering her smile. When she sees you looking, her grin only grows, and she gestures to Ezra. “Yea, he’s drunk.”

Ezra turns an indignant stare on your young ward, opening his mouth to no doubt start on another explanation of how he definitely wasn’t drunk and definitely didn’t add rum to the eggnog. Before he can start he stumbles forward, swaying slightly on his feet. You stifle a smile and reach out, placing a steadying hand on his arm.

“Ok, alright, I think it’s time we go to bed.” You catch Cee’s eye over Ezra’s shoulder, jerking your head to indicate she should go to her room so Ezra doesn’t protest that she is staying up while he has to lay down. You silently thank your stars the girl is so smart when she immediately backs out of the doorway out of sight.

Ezra turns his attention back on you, attempting what you think is supposed to be another charming smile. He knows normally that smile would charm you into whatever he wants.

“My dear, radiant stardust. Would you like to join this weary old prospector in his bed?”

You suppress another grin, nodding as you guide him towards the room you share at the back of the apartment. “Yes, Ez. That’s where I sleep too.”

He looks equal parts surprised and alarmed at this revelation, twisting to look over his shoulder at you even as you guide him through the doorway to your room. “You and I share a bed? Such radiant beauty deigns to lay with a scoundrel like me?”

You don’t answer for a moment, instead focusing on getting him sat on the edge of the bed upright so you can undress him. One he’s sat, albeit unsteadily, you raise your left hand and let him see the gold ring on your finger. “We’re married, Ez.”

If you thought he was surprised at the revelation the two of you slept together, you think this new bit of information almost melts his brain. He stares at the ring, reaching up to grip your wrist. He then turns his wide eyes on you, wonder written across his face. You let him process the information, far too entertained by his reactions to be offended he forgot your marriage in his drunkenness.

Finally he shakes his head, a somewhat sad smile replacing the look of wonder. “No, madam, I think you must be mistaken. You are far too beautiful, too radiant, too…” He pauses, apparently lost for more adjectives to describe your beauty for a moment before continuing, “too magnificent to be trapped into a marriage with an old, good-for-nothing blackguard as I.”

You smile, shaking your head and leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead, working to undress him enough for bed while he expounds upon your beauty. He doesn’t seem to notice, too adamant that you couldn’t have married him. “Alright, Ez. How about we talk about it in the morning? I’m feeling kinda tired.” You know he won’t go to bed on his own, but at the idea of you being any kind of uncomfortable he immediately pulls you down into bed with him, squirming around very similarly to a fish out of water until the two of you are snuggled down under the thick quilt.

You press close to him, sighing when his arms come up to pull you even close, his body apparently remembering the nights you’d spent curled into his side even if he doesn't at the moment.

“We will be discussing this further in the morning, stardust. I am of course flattered by your interest, but I must insist you attain a more suitable match for an unparalleled beauty such as yourself.” You reach up, placing your hand on his cheek with a sleepy smile.

“Of course, Ezra. Now go to sleep.”

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statticscribbles · 3 years

Text

Puppy

Summary: Reggie/Reader Request: Reggie avoids you because he overhears you talk to Kevin about your perfect guy (comic book character) so as he’s avoiding you, you keep trying to get his attention, and finally you end up kissing him cause he’s just pining after you like lovesick puppy; after the confession and when you start dating the “lovesick puppy act” gets worse

“Kevin I’m being serious!” You smack his arm as he laughs. “No it’s just funny he doesn’t seem like the type you’d go for.” “And what do you know about my type.” You laugh with him and he smirks. “Reggie, what would you say Y/N’s type it?” You can see Reggie frown before shaking it off. “Tall, dark haired, plays football.” He winks and you smile at him. “Wow that’s so off model it’s kind of sad.” Kevin nods solemnly and you smack his arm again. “You do have to admit it though, I mean the muscles, and the hair, plus have you seen him wearing a shirt? He practically never does!” “That’s sort of the point you know that right, not wearing a shirt to attract the ladies, you included apparently.” Kevin smirks and you scowl watching Reggie almost storming out.

“I’m guessing Reggie’s not a fan of the reboot then?” You chew your lip. “You think he knew we were talking about the newest edition? I mean we’ve talked about the second volume for months so-“ “I don’t think he cares about what I talk about, you on the other hand.” “Kev, he doesn’t care about comics half as much as you do, let alone me; how much do you think he thought I was talking about a real person.” “I mean inability to keep a shirt on just screams Sweet Pea, you know that right?” “Dammit; now I have to go find him to explain don’t I.” “It works out perfectly you explain your crush to him.” “My crush on-“ “On Reggie, not that paper cutout you have in your room.” You roll your eyes and run after where you think Reggie is.

You weren’t able to find him before science but you know having to sit next to him will at least give you an excuse to explain the comic book misunderstanding. You frown when he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t talk to you. You’re stuck doing busy work since your actual teacher is out; so the chance to talk goes out the window until lunch at the earliest; since you don’t share any other classes with him. You pass him in the hallway and wave and you can tell he makes a point to turn his head away. You try to brush it off, concocting reasons for his sudden change in attitude. You complain to Kevin during math and he just laughs at your ridiculous theories. “Oh yeah, and what do you think has a stick up his ass so bad?” “He likes you; it’s why he’s so bothered by your crush you realize that right?” “Kevin that’s ridiculous; he’s Reggie freaking Mantle, he can have anyone in the school; why would he want me?” “Do you want the list alphabetically or by popularity?”

“Popularity?” “You’re a River Vixen, you’re into those weird old books that he doesn’t admit he likes; since you’re a River Vixen you have a great figure, you know how to dance, you like Pop’s.” “Kev it’s Riverdale, everyone likes Pop’s. That one doesn’t count.” “You know you two order the same thing, every time right?” “No we don’t; do we?” he laughs nodding as you make your way to lunch. “Hey Reggie” Kevin nods to him and he looks up, turning slightly away from you to focus on Kevin. “Yeah?” “What’s your standing Pop’s order.” “Burger wise or in general?”

“Isn’t the burger in general, or do you order something we don’t know about?” “You thinking about making a run down to Pop’s cause I know pretty much everyone would kill for that.” He grins and Kevin smirks. “Yeah, you wanna help me carry shit? Meet by your car in five?” Reggie nods vanishing to the parking lot and Kevin grins. “So I want a cheeseburger, extra onions and-“ “Kev why are you- No, no he’s been avoiding me all day!! I’m not going to sit with him to get Pop’s!” “You’re getting Pop’s?” You cringe at Archie and Jughead’s hovering. “Yeah, write down what you want.” You scowl holding out a spare piece of paper.

“Reggie, Kevin asked if I could go instead, he has theatre stuff to; okay.” You sigh as he opens the door silently walking around to the drivers seat. You’re silent the entire car ride, trying to start conversation but the lack of even a glance your way keeps you quiet. Reggie doesn’t say anything just holding his hand out so you stop getting out of the car. “Wait.” He says it more to the car than to you and you huff, grumbling under your breath as he pulls the list from where you set it in the cupholder. He appears moments later. “What do you want?” You decide to give him a taste of the silent treatment and point to your order you’d written. “That’s mine.” He clarifies and you point to it again glaring. ‘So you want the same thing as me?”You nod and he laughs dryly. “Won’t even talk to me great.” “Say’s the one.” You hiss and he glares openly at you.

“Well I’m not the one with a crush on someone they can’t have now am I? So who’s the real loser.” “You.” He groans and slams the door retreating back into Pop’s to order and wait for the food. You watch from the car window as he pulls the bags towards himself, you lean towards the door, opening it and walking through. “Let me help.” He doesn’t say anything sliding two of the bags towards you. He silent until you put the food in the backseat. You buckle your seatbelt waiting for him to start the car. “Listen I don’t care about whoever you have a crush on. Just making that clear.” You sigh looking up to the ceiling of the car. “Me you mean, you don’t care about me.” “Who said that?” “You did, or rather didn’t; I’ve been trying to get your attention all day to explain.” “Explain what?” “Comic books.”

“Is that code for something? Or slang for you wanting some Jangle? Cause I don’t sell; what I get is my own-“ “Kevin and I, we were talking about comic books earlier.” “Oh good for you?” “That crush isn’t on a real person.” “Oh well alright then; once again good for you. So there are other crushes?” He questions glaring slightly; you realize he didn’t want to actually talk with you. You don’t respond as he drives back to school. “Grab the food?” You ask as he stays unmoving in the car; he must catch you rolling your eyes with how he scoffs. “What? I’m going to grab the damn food.” He snaps.

“Yikes, there’s no need to be in such a pissy mood, I get you’re hungry but-“ “I’m in a pissy mood cause you’ve been avoiding me for the entire day!” “I’ve been avoiding you? I’ve been trying to get your attention since you stormed off after the crush misunderstanding!” You scowl as he shoves the other bag of food towards you. “I can avoid whoever I want regardless of how I actually feel about you.” You snap at him. “You feel differently than avoidance about me? Hard to believe; but at least you admit you were avoiding me.” You laugh shaking your head.

“The only reason I’m admitting it is so you won’t complain for the next week about how much of a bitch I’m being.” Reggie sets the food on the hood of his car leaning over you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” He hisses about to pull the food back over when you tug on his arm. “Reggie.” Your voice is soft and you can tell he’s confused but you’re relieved as you pull yourself towards him. You’re quick about pressing your lips to his, intent on kissing him and bringing everyone their food so he doesn’t get the chance to ask you about it.

It works and as you shove Jughead’s burger into his hands you scowl when you realize your order was packed with Reggie’s. You’re about to turn around to look for him surprised to find the burger and extra fries sitting at the spot on the table you’ve claimed. “Oh thank you.” You say more toward the general table but jump slightly when Reggie’s arm lays on your shoulder. “No problem.” He seems relaxed as you sit down, he sits next to you and you cast a look to Kevin who nods, you’re thankful he’ll be able to talk later. “These are yours.” You nod to the fries and he shakes his head. “Don’t want them.” “You don’t want the cheese fries you ordered?” “Not in the mood for them anymore.” You smile pulling them closer. “You’re welcome to them, since they are yours.” He nods relaxing slightly settling closer to you as he sits.

You sigh when the bell rings, standing to grab your bag confused when Reggie hands it to you. Kevin appears, walking with you to English. “So what was that about?” He mumbles as your teacher finishes the lesson for the day. “We kissed.” “So you just skipped confessing your crush then?” He laughs and you join him. “I guess I did; we’re probably going to have to talk later.” “You better, I’m not letting you get away with not confessing to him. I don’t think he’s going to either.” He nods and you smile confused as Reggie stands at the door smirking. “Can I walk you home?” “You have a car.”

“Walk sounds better.” You arch an eyebrow. “How is walking better than you being able to drive your car?” Kevin nods as he leaves and you walk towards the door. “Well like this.” He steps to the side, slightly closer, his hand grasping yours. “You don’t want to drive because you can’t hold my hand?” You watch a blush creep onto his face. “Maybe.”

“You know you can hold my hand while you’re driving.” “I didn’t want to assume anything.” “Well we kissed, and I do have a crush on you.”’ “So you do have a type?” He straightens up beaming; and you laugh. “Yeah, you were right about the tall dark haired footballers. AKA you.” You wink and he laughs. “Do you want to go out sometime.” “Besides this?” You nudge him and he shakes his head. “This isn’t going out, I’m walking you home.” “From being out, together.” “School doesn’t count as a date.” He counters and you rolls your eyes. “Well you’ll just have to plan a date then.” He nods eagerly and you smile as he reaches your door.

You’d been dating Reggie for a week and Kevin is constantly pointing out how much Reggie’s acting like a puppy. “Kev, it’s not a thing, you’re exaggerating.” “Point proven, look.” You’re standing behind him so you know Reggie can’t see you but you can see him. He’s laughing with the rest of the Bulldogs and nods to Kevin; you watch as Kevin moves, and Reggie’s face softens and he smiles excitedly.

“Babe!” He moves from the rest of the bulldogs pulling you into a hug. “Oh my god he’s right.” “Who’s right?” Reggie pulls back slightly and you shake your head. “I’ll tell you later, we’re still on for Pop’s after the game right?” He nods leaning down to kiss you. “Of course, it’s tradition.” “This is the first time we’re doing it.” “And after it’s tradition.”

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bi-naesala · 3 years

Text

A well-earned break

Fandom: Yakuza

Rating: E

Warnings: /

Relationships: Han Joon-gi/Zhao Tianyou, Kim Yeonsu/Zhao Tianyou

Characters: Zhao Tianyou, Han Joon-gi, Kim Yeonsu

Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quickies, Blow Jobs, Nonbinary Zhao Tianyou

Summary:

Zhao takes advantage of a break during an Ijin Three meeting to have some fun with Joon-Gi Han.

(Also on AO3)

It’s during situations like this one that his father’s words echo in Zhao’s head: he has no patience, which is a bad trait for a leader. Well, guess what, pops? He is a bad leader, and no working on his flaws will ever fix that, even if he were willing to try it.

Though, he supposes, if he were more patient, maybe this meeting wouldn’t be so excruciatingly fucking boring. This isn’t even Liumang business per se, but more like something that the Geomijul and the Seiryu clan should’ve been able to solve between them, but politics are politics and Zhao, as much as he doesn’t want to be there, isn’t so foolish not to remain, lest they disrupt the carefully crafted equilibrium between the Ijin Three.

Still, if there was a way to make things less boring, they surely wouldn’t be upset about it…

Taking advantage of a well-earned break, he goes to hang in the lounge with some of their boys, as well as members of the Seiryu clan and the Geomijul, when a stupid idea comes to him. It’s not mortal - because Zhao’s aware that, if he dies here, it would mean war - but it could still be dangerous, which in their humble opinion makes it even more alluring.

He scouts his surroundings, and he’s surprised to see that the person he’s looking for is actually here, which is weird because he’d usually be attached to Seong-hui during times like this, but Seong-hui isn’t here.

Oh well, it’ll be easier for him to approach him at least, which he does immediately.

“Are my eyes deceiving me, or is that Joon-gi Han? Shrinking from his errand boy duties?”

If Zhao has managed to get a rise out of the other, there is no sign of it on his face. Stoic son of a bitch.

“Zhao-san,” he greets him, in that usual polite tone of his, lightly bowing his head.

“C’mon Han-kun, there’s no need to be so formal,” Zhao states; after all, his dislike for this kind of stuff is well known.

“Nonetheless, hierarchy exists for a reason, and it would be uncouth of me not to respect it,” Joon-gi replies, though he quickly adds, “And to answer your previous question, no, I’m not ‘shrinking’ from my duties. I’m exactly where I need to be.”

Cryptic answers are Han’s specialty, but at least it’s enough for Zhao to understand that, whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it under Seong-Hui’s orders. Interesting.

“Then I suppose I couldn’t steal some of your time?” they ask, exaggerating his innocent demeanor so that he’ll make Han suspicious.

It works: Han narrows his eyes at him, though no matter how hard he’s trying to keep a neutral demeanor, Zhao can see through his bullshit. He knows he’s intrigued. If Zhao has picked on the signs correctly - and they usually do - then his interest for the other is reciprocated - and how could it not be? They’re both quite attractive after all.

“What for?” Han asks, and yet he hasn’t explicitly said no. If Zhao had felt like showing all his cards, he would’ve smirked at that.

They take a step closer. “Don’t you think this meeting’s boring? Personally, I hate that we’re stuck in here at least for another hour,” he says.

Joon-gi Han doesn’t say anything, but he raises an eyebrow at him, a silent invite to continue.

“Well, if you’re so interested, I might share the idea I’ve just had after all…”

“I-I don’t think we should do this here,” Han suddenly mutters.

What comes out of Zhao’s lips in an amused huff. “Could’ve said it sooner, huh?”

Did he really just wait for them to get inside one of the bathroom stalls and for Zhao to drop to their knees before having second though?

“If you really don’t want to, fine, but man, what a shitty timing…”

If Han is really getting cold feet, Zhao will stop, but this doesn’t mean that he won’t be a bit sad about it - though he’ll never openly show it because that would be admitting that he’s not as above everything as he appears.

Joon-gi Han stays silent for a moment, probably thinking about the repercussions this affair will have. Always the overthinker.

His answer, though, surprises Zhao.

“Very well. Carry on.”

“W-What?” Zhao stutters, taken aback by the sudden change.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Han asks, only to then smirk. “Unless you are the one who’s having second thoughts…”

This little…

Zhao furrows their eyebrows, and a frown appears on his face before he can stop it and keep his usual laid-back demeanor. As he reaches Han’s pants and fumbles with the belt, there’s only one thing they can think.

“I’ll show you.”

They do indeed show him, given the way Han is barely able to keep his voice down, even going as far as to cover his mouth in order to muffle those little noises that, despite his best efforts, still come out.

Zhao isn’t perturbed by any of this shit, and keeps sucking his dick like a champ. He keeps it quite simple, only pulling a few tricks when it looks like Han’s getting used to the rhythm he’s dictating just because they want to keep him on his toes; it’s not often that he gets to see the Joon-gi Han like this, with his guard lowered, and he intends to make the most of it.

It’s an intoxicating feeling, Zhao can’t lie. The more Han loses his composure, the more addicted they feel to it.

When Han’s hand shoots to grab their hair, Zhao knows he has him wrapped all around his finger, and so he begins to slow down, right when Han was beginning to feel close to the orgasm.

He almost smirks at the frustrated huff that he lets out, but no matter what, Zhao will not go faster than this. Well, there is something that could give them an incentive, but Han has to say it first.

“Zhao-san.”

Cute, he’s calling for him now, but unfortunately this isn’t what Zhao’s waiting for.

“Zhao-san… faster.”

Closer, but still not it.

Taking pity on him, Zhao pulls away, gaze fixed on his face. “What’s the magic word?” they ask, pointing Han to the right direction.

At first Han remains silent, but the need to come soon takes over whatever sense of dignity or shame he must be feeling right now. Zhao almost wants to take a picture of him, to immortalize how red he’s become - and he can’t even look at him in the eyes!

“Faster… please…”

“That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?” Zhao teases him, though he’s merciful enough to wrap their lips around Han’s dick again, sucking it way harder than he was doing before.

Now that he’s actually putting some effort in this blowjob, Han doesn’t last long.

You’d figure that someone so intent in trying to make the least amount of noise possible would keep it that way throughout the whole ordeal, but Han half-shouts that he’s close, surprising even Zhao. He either has a secret exhibitionism kink, or Zhao must’ve driven him so mad that he’s not noticing how loud he’s being. Zhao hopes it’s the second.

Knowing that they can’t make a mess - not that he truly needs an excuse to do this - Zhao doesn’t pull away when Han comes, swallowing everything. Only then they pull away, making a show of licking his lips just to fluster Han further, succeeding of course.

The expression on his face is almost comical as he watches Zhao. Is he going to act scandalized now of all times?

In response, Zhao flashes him a smile, and that seems to get Han out of his trance, as he helps him up. Zhao’s lucky their joints don’t crack, but damn it doesn’t feel good to suddenly stand after staying on his knees for such a long time. Eh, they’re not as young as he once was; being almost thirty, he’s basically decrepit now - mental note: never say something like that near chairman Hoshino, or he might get offended or worse, he’d try to lecture them.

“Zhao-san… Um…”

Han’s voice is enough to bring Zhao back to the present, saving him the embarrassment of going on a tangent in their head about aging. Right, he’s still in the bathroom with him.

He recovers immediately, diverting Han’s attention by lightly patting on his cheek. “So? Good, huh?”

“I fear saying so will only succeed in further boosting your ego,” Han replies, matter-of-factly as always. “But… it was.”

“Aw, thank you Han-kun~” Zhao replies, purposefully standing way too close to Han than he should, just to elicit another reaction out of him, but he wasn’t expecting Han to grab them by the neck and draw him for a deep kiss. They can’t help but to let out a noise of surprise, which cause Han to smile against his lips, but oh well, it’s not like Zhao can complain about it.

Wouldn’t you know it, not only he has a nice dick, but he’s also a good kisser.

As much as Zhao would love to spend whatever time they have left here, kissing Han and maybe going back to do something more, he knows that he has a duty to attend to, no matter how much they don’t want to do it, so he has to unfortunately pull away from those sweet, sweet lips.

“Well, as much as I’d love to stay here, we should go back,” they say, then. Han nods, but it’s hard for Zhao to understand how he feels about it; he hopes he’s going to miss this closeness too.

“Yes, Zhao-san. It would be wise to join back with the others.”

After getting out of the bathroom, Zhao still attempts to make some small talk, because lord forbids he keeps their mouth shut for once.

“You know, you don’t have to call me Zhao-san all formal like that, especially while I suck you off. Makes me feel older than I actually am.”

“Even if I wanted to, I cannot,” Han replies. “I have to respect the chain of command, no matter what.”

“Didn’t see you thinking about that back there,” Zhao teases him, pointing to the bathroom with their head. He almost laughs at the offended expression on Han’s face at his words.

“Well…” the other begins, clearly trying to find a clever comeback. “That was an exception,” is what he comes up with, before beginning to walk away.

If he walks faster, they might be able to keep up with him, running after him like a schoolgirl with her senpai isn’t something Zhao would do, so he stays behind.

“Oh, come on, don’t act like a child!” they shout after him, but Han doesn’t stop his tracks, not that Zhao expected him to do so.

“Well, that was fun anyway! Call me if you want to do it again!” he adds, then, but this time as well he gets no reaction from Han, though they notice that his step falters just for a moment, so he must’ve breached through.

After this nice diversion, unfortunately they have to head back to the meeting, but now his mind feels lighter at least. He’ll be able to handle another few hours of this bullshit.

And so they settle down at the business table and lets Seong-hui and Hoshino discuss what they need to discuss, all while his mind is pleasantly blank, focused only on remembering the sweet sounds that Joon-gi Han made while their lips were wrapped up around his cock.

Man, that was fun. The only downside is that he won’t be able to brag about it, because if word goes around of what happened, both his and Han’s reputations would suffer from it. Oh well, at least he can be internally proud of himself.

They wonder if Han will ever be willing to repeat the experience; as for him, he knows for a fact that he’d love to do it again, and maybe even beyond a hushed blowjob inside a toilet stall.

Oh well, he won’t get an answer just wondering about it, but they’re not worried about that, because of course he’ll try to ask Han again - see, having no sense of shame does help in life!

Despite their effort, he can’t contain a small smirk on his lips, though they’re quick to cover it with his mouth, pretending he’s pondering on what is being discussed.

This is going to be so much fun.

#zhaohan #tianyou zhao #joon-gi han #yakuza #rgg #yakuza like a dragon #spicy #mine #kim yeonsu #my fics

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themuffinbee · 3 years

Text

Lore Olympus Novelized, Chapter 4

First Chapter - Previous Chapter

Hey, it's been a while. Life has been rough, so this took some time to finish. Since I'm having to play with the chronology of the chapters a little to fit a literary narrative format, the comic's Chapter 5 is LON's Chapter 4. It’s finally Pining Hades o’clock, my friends!

As always, this is merely an unofficial fan adaptation. All plot and dialogue belong to the talented Rachel Smythe. I'm just playing in her sandbox.

—————————————————

“I’m not into this.”

Silence.

“I’m not happy with myself,” Eros said, a little louder this time. Still, his mother ignored him as she flitted from car to car.

He glanced around the moonlit parking lot in the hope that there would be somebody, anybody around to put a stop to this nonsense. Of course, there wasn’t a soul to be seen.

“I’m so uncomfortable right now.” What an understatement. Eros had that creepy-crawly sensation like a thousand bugs moving under his skin when he thought about all the rules of consent he had broken in the last two hours. Ugh!

He kept his eyes straight ahead as he shifted the dead drunk, unconscious goddess in his arms, attempting to make her more comfortable. After all, it wouldn’t do for her to have a cramped neck or pinched nerve after a night like tonight. He had to have some standards.

“Oh, stop fussing and hurry up. Serves her right for being so trusting,” Aphrodite said without even a glance in his direction. She stopped and cocked her head. “Eros, do you know how to pick locks?”

For crying out--

“Ma, what the fuck are we doing?” Yeah, okay. He probably should have asked that question a couple of hours ago, but whatever. “I left a perfectly good orgy for this, I thought you had an actual emergency. It's late. I'm cold.”

His mother finally looked him in the eye, and, much to his disappointment, she seemed far more annoyed than concerned at his insubordination.

“Look at this girl." He held up Persephone, her head lolling to the side. “She’s like the personification of a friggin’ cinnamon roll! An adorable, pink cinnamon roll!”

Aphrodite only crossed her arms and glared at him.

Oh, my gods. What. Even.

“Why are you jealous of a cinnamon roll?!” Eros took a calming breath. Getting angry with his mother only made her more stubborn. He took on a more coaxing voice and said, “Let’s just take her back to Artemis and tell her you’re feeling a bit more deranged than usual.”

That got a reaction.

“Check that sassy attitude, Mr. Man,” his mother said with her hands on her hips, using a tone she normally reserved for his younger siblings. She turned away and clasped her hands to her chest, eyes misting over far too quickly to be sincere. “You still owe me big time after that bullshit you pulled with Psyche.”

Then she glanced back towards him, her eyes now narrowed in a chilling gaze. “You want to see her, right?”

And that was that. Eros pressed his lips into a thin line and remained silent.

“Yeah, I thought as much. Now help me find his car.” Aphrodite flipped her lavender hair over her shoulder and continued down the parking lot, her fists clenched at her sides. “Stupid Hades!”

Why was she acting so weird tonight? Everyone already knew she was beautiful, especially when she wore a getup like she had on tonight. Iridescent white with her purple complexion? Always a winning combination. And, besides... “Since when did you give a crap about the King of the Underworld?”

His mother shot him a glare over her shoulder. “It’s about respect!”

Eros sighed. “I’m pretty sure that breaking into someone else’s car is a crime...”

“Listen--”

“...aaand it’s not very respectful.”

“Listen.” She spread her hands out to the side of her face and little sparkles of light shot out of her fingers. “Listen.”

The sparkles formed a hazy image of a cartoonish, disgruntled Hades.

“We’re gonna hide her in his car." Aphrodite gave a little twirl of her finger and the cartoon Hades flung open his car door to reveal an equally indignant Persephone. “Once he gets home, he’ll find her. She’ll be super drunk and do a buttload of embarrassing stuff. He will think she’s totally gross.”

The imaginary Persephone fell to the ground crying as the cartoon Hades shrugged. Aphrodite lowered her pitch to something exaggerated and rough and not at all like the King of the Dead. “I’m a big stupid idiot and Aphrodite is the most beautiful goddess ever.”

“And then!” His mother returned her voice to normal as the image of Hades pushed a judgy-looking Persephone off of his driveway. “Since he took her home drunk, she’ll think he’s a creepy, old man."

Aphrodite smiled and closed her eyes, looking so content that she may as well have spent the day at a spa. “That’s the plan.”

Eros stared at her and tried to make sense of the raving nonsense he had just heard. At least this was Hades and not one of his brothers they were talking about, so Persephone should be safe enough. But still, this was beyond messed up. Did his mom really think this would work?

Aphrodite’s smile dislodged a bit and one of her eyebrows crooked upwards as she looked up at him, waiting. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fresh hell, I am embarrassed for you.”

She tried to protest, but he kept talking, “Mom, you seem to have such a distorted view of people these days...when did you stop seeing the best in people?”

Aphrodite pinched her mouth shut and spun on her heel with a “Hmph!” as she continued her march through the parking lot.

"When did you forget about kindness?" Eros followed after her, "When did you forget about love?"

Still, Aphrodite walked onwards.

It was at this point that Eros realized he may have given his mother a complex. Gods, what a fucking mess.

—————————————————

Hades pulled his car into the driveway and proceeded to sit and stare out the window, not really finding the will in his bones to move. This was the worst night he had put himself through in a while, and he wondered just how much more scotch it would take for him to wipe it from his memory.

Not only had he somehow fucked things up with Minthe, but he had acted like a complete fool at his brother’s party, all for a pretty girl he had never met. Looking back, even his thoughts were embarrassing. ‘Like a rose in a snarling mess of brambles?’ Where had he come up with a phrase so disgustingly saccharine?

Just then, a small sound from the back seat cracked through his ruminations. He turned his head and saw…

What. What the...why...how???

She was there. Persephone. In his car. Somehow.

She was curled up asleep in his backseat, covered in roses of all things -- because of course she was -- and she looked, she looked…she looked miserable. Pale and sick. There was a small slip of paper attached with tape to her thigh, and drawn on it was a delicate little heart.

Aphrodite.

She must have overheard him at the party, but he didn't remember seeing her there at all...which was probably Aphrodite's problem. The Goddess of Beauty had always been a diva that never liked to share the spotlight, but when did her ego get so fragile?

Hades shut off the engine and walked around the car as quietly as he could. When he opened the rear passenger door, Persephone let out a small, whimpering groan at the sound, but stayed limp, one of her knees dangling so far off of the seat that it almost drooped to the floor. There was no way she would be able to walk in that state.

Deciding to look only at what his hands were doing, and not at the disheveled goddess slumped over in the back of his car, Hades half-knelt on the floorboard and began brushing Aphrodite’s signature roses off of the seat, their cloying scent filling the air. His gaze remained glued to his fingers as he peeled the little note off of Persephone’s thigh and crumpled the offending piece of paper into a ball.

Trying to be gentle, and most likely failing, Hades hooked one arm behind Persephone’s shoulders and the other under her knees, sliding her out of the car and doing his best to avoid bumping her into anything. Her head lolled against his shoulder and the smell of alcohol on her breath replaced the scent of the roses. A lot of alcohol.

As he walked towards the house, an emotion between sadness and anger grew behind his ribcage. There was no reason for her to be here, no reason for her to be mixed up with someone as...volatile as Aphrodite. No reason except for--

Hades felt Persephone stir against his chest and she let out a little moan, now reaching out an arm as though she were attempting to grab hold of something. A small butterfly made of pink light appeared on her wilting fingers while another fluttered about between her neck and his shoulder. Hades finally let his gaze drift up to her face and...hell. Even in as pitiful a state as she was in now, with her brow all furrowed and her skin far too pale, he would still say Persephone was more beautiful than Aphrodite. Thank Gaia the little goddess was practically dead to the world right now, otherwise, she would be able to hear his heart beating a thousand miles per minute and--

Hades frowned and looked away, resuming his path towards the house. He was not one of his brothers and he was not going to act like them tonight. Staring slack-jawed at someone across the room in the middle of a crowded party was one thing, ogling an incapacitated woman you were carrying into your home was very much so another.

A low whine pierced through the silence as a shape made of darkness padded out from the shadows. One canine head split into three, all six ears standing at full attention.

“Settle down, you might scare her,” Hades said as he motioned with his hand to halt his guard dog’s advance. He held Persephone closer with his other arm, vaguely realizing that one of her hands had curled itself around the lapel of his coat. Cerberus whined again, but his ears and tail relaxed by a fraction.

Good boy.

With only the minimum amount of fumbling and jostling, Hades managed to get the two of them through the sliding glass doors and into his living room. He shifted Persephone in his arms and bent over to deposit her into the nearest chair. Before he could lower her so much as two inches, he heard her make the smallest whimper into his shoulder as she flopped one of her arms around the back of his neck. Hell on Olympus, she sounded so sad, so scared. And why was she clinging to him? Was she so drunk that she thought he was someone else? That had to be it.

Cradling the back of her head in his hand, he whispered, “I’m just - I’m just going to put you down for a sec, okay?”

She did not answer, but he felt her arm slide off of his neck. As he laid her down in the chair, he tried to ignore how much he didn’t want to let go of her either.

Tasks. He needed tasks. Tasks were going to be his best damn friends tonight.

Task one: water.

His feet took him from the living room to the kitchen without further thought, his hands on autopilot. Open cupboard, grab glass, close cupboard, place glass under faucet, turn on faucet, turn off faucet, walk back to the living room, and--

He came to a halt the moment Persephone came back into view. She still looked miserable, of course, but even with her sickly pallor, she positively glowed in the darkness. Seeing her splash of bright pink against the ever-present shadows of his home, a dusting of wildflower petals gathering around his chair, it dawned on him just how foolish his attraction to her was. The King of the Dead together with the Goddess of Spring? The very thought was laughable, absurd.

Hades sighed as he knelt in front of the chair and Persephone opened her eyes, half-lidded and unfocused. He held the glass aloft in his hand, shaking it a little in an attempt to get her attention. “You should drink some water.”

Her expression remained blank, a slow blink being the only sign that she may have comprehended his words. When she made no move to reach for the glass, Hades leaned forward, placed a tentative hand under her jaw, and held the glass to her lips. Though a few drops did spill out the sides of the cup, he saw her throat make weak work at drinking. Good.

Now for task two: accommodations.

Once she had nearly drained the glass, he set it aside and again picked her up from the chair, heading off towards whichever of his abandoned guest rooms he thought most likely to be ready for seldom-seen company.

As he carried the inebriated goddess through the darkened halls, Hades felt her sink deeper against his chest with every step, until she had nestled her head against his cheek, her fingers toying with his bowtie. Nobody had the right to be that damned adorable when they were blackout drunk. He tried not to think of what would have happened if Aphrodite had dumped her in someone else’s car by mistake. Someone like Zeus, or Ares, or Apollo.

He crossed the threshold of a suitable room and a knot formed in his throat as he came upon the third and final task of the night: sleep.

“Sorry for manhandling you…” Hades said as he sat down on the bed and pulled back the covers, Persephone’s legs splayed across his own. Somehow speaking aloud made this feel less...creepy. He let go of her once they were settled, expecting the little goddess to lie down and bury her face in a pillow. Instead, much to his contradictory discomfort and happiness, she steadied herself by looping her arms around his neck and slumped her head onto his shoulder.

Wow...right. Okay. This was not going the way he had planned. He cleared his throat and reached towards her feet.

“If you sleep with your shoes on, you’ll get sores on your feet,” he said, deciding that narrating his actions to the silent goddess made him at least feel much more comfortable. Though taking her shoes off wasn’t nearly the same as, say, changing her into pajamas, it still felt like it passed some boundary of intimacy. As he slipped one stiletto heel off and then the other, he noted that they came off a little too easily, like they were half a size too large. Hades thought of all the nights he had crashed on his office couch, too exhausted to bother taking off his shoes. The ill-fitting ones had always left behind the worst blisters. He winced a little at the memory. “Trust me, I know.”

Lifting the covers with one hand and cradling her back and head with the other, Hades managed to steer Persephone’s legs under the sheets. Her arms, however, stayed outstretched and draped over his shoulders even as he laid her head on the pillow. Damn, if he didn’t know that she was too drunk to even sit up on her own, he would have thought she was trying to seduce him--

A shiver ran through Hades, electrifying enough he might have mistaken it for one of Zeus’ lightning bolts. So light that he could barely register the sensation, he felt the slight brush of her fingers skimming over his hair. It stole the breath from his lungs. One by one, her fingers traced over his ears and ran along his cheeks, her touch gentler than anything he could remember. But, the pads of her fingers were also somewhat...rough. Not the soft, downy skin he would have expected of the dainty goddess.

For a moment, he wondered if she were attempting to map his face through touch as each finger spread over his features. Some outlined his cheekbones, one of her thumbs glided over the side of his nose, and a few of her fingers, gods, slid along his jaw. Each digit only made the barest, most tantalizing bit of contact with his skin, and that alone was nearly overwhelming. It wasn’t until her other thumb grazed the corner of his mouth that he realized had been sitting spellbound this whole time, his eyes shut as he leaned into her touch. Practically a puddle in her hands.

…Would she want to map out the rest of him with those hands?

You are not your brothers. You are not your brothers. Snap out of it! You are NOT your brothers.

Hades sighed and brought his hands up to catch hers before they went anywhere else. “Now stop that.”

Looking down, he could indeed discern a set of calluses padding her rosy fingers and palms. The puzzle of Persephone only continued to grow. It was a good thing he still had his gloves on, otherwise he would be so very tempted to explore those callused hands with his own.

Who was he kidding? He was already tempted. Which meant that he needed to leave.

“I’m going to bed now. Goodnight, “ he said as he released her hands.

Yes. Good. Satisfied that he had done the correct, gentlemanly thing (to the best of his abilities at least), he headed for the door.

And then he heard it.

From behind him came one loud, giant sniffle. And then a small whimper. And then another sniffle.

Oh.

Oh no.

She was crying.

Before he knew it, he was back at the side of the bed, kneeling on the floor. “I can take you home if you want,” he said, noting more of those luminous pink petals had formed on the dark sheets, “I just don’t know where you live.”

“Please don’t tell my mom how drunk I got tonight,” she whispered, her voice all cracked and warbled. Tears were already streaming down her cheek as she clung to the pillow beneath her. “She’ll make me move back home if she finds out.”

Hades nearly chuckled, “Your mother? Demeter and I aren’t exactly best buds. I may be a lot of things, but I’m no snitch.” Surprised to find his hands moving on their own, he wiped away her tears in an attempt to stem the flowing tide. “Sweetness, don’t get worked up. Everything will seem one thousand times better in the morning.”

With one last baleful look at him, a gaze reminiscent of her earlier flash of sadness at the party, Persephone closed her eyes. Hades pulled the covers up and over her bare shoulders. At least his reassurance had given her some kind of peace.

After shutting her door behind him, he wandered through the shadowy corridors, his feet finally leading him to the rooftop patio. Hades breathed in the chill of the Underworld’s eternal night. The cold air on his skin, however, did nothing to reduce the memory of Persephone’s delicate touch on his cheeks.

Damn.

She shouldn’t be here.

Sunlight and wildflowers and warmth had no business being in the Land of the Dead, especially when she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Not that she would ever want to come here of her own accord anyway.

Hell, this entire night had been a new level of idiocy for him. Of course, Minthe was tired of his dour bullshit. Of course, Aphrodite would have been in the Olympian suite at the party. Of course, she would spite a less powerful goddess out of petty jealousy. Of course.

Hades gripped the handrail of the balcony as he surveyed his shrouded, dead kingdom, and had what he considered to be his most logical thought of the night:

This is all my fault.

#Lore Olympus #Lore Olympus Novelized #my fics #Persephone #Hades #not cr

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weirdochick56 · 5 years

Text

Mr. Evans- Chris Evans AU Chapter Twelve

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: TeacherxStudent relationship. Slightly Underage reader x adult teacher. Explicit language cause of course. Angst. Fluff. DEPICTIONS OF ALCOHOLISM (it’s not that descriptive of that in particular). A scene with verbal and a bit of physical abuse. Heartbreak. Overall sadness. Seriously, if any of these topics are triggering to you in any way, DON’T READ. If you are sensitive read with care, please!

Disclaimers: I don’t condone relationships of this kind this is for entertainment purposes only. I don’t own “You Make Me Feel So Young”

Word Count: 4, 865 words

A/N: I just wanted to thank @roonyxx for giving me the idea of an angsty dad scene. Please show the blog some love! I hope you enjoy. ( :

Read Chapter Eleven Here!!

***

(Gif isn’t mine! What an adorable cinnamon roll, omg I cannot!)

After you drink an aspirin for your horrendous headache, you invite yourself to a fluffy white towel from the closet, walking towards the bathroom.

It’s modern but fairly small and you absolutely love it. It’s cozy.

You close the door behind you, turning the water on. You wait until it’s lukewarm before taking off Mr. Evans’ shirt.

The water is gentle against your muscles, relaxing them after a very stressful night and you can’t help but release a small sigh of relief under your breath. A warm shower is exactly what you needed.

You can’t find any female products in the shower so you use Chris’s shampoo and body wash instead, making sure to get all the products from last night off your hair and lathering your body up with his body wash until you were squeaky clean.

By the time you’re done, you smell like him completely and couldn’t feel more satisfied with yourself for it.

You turn off the shower and step out, wrapping the towel tightly around you as steam floats out from behind you.

A knock at the door startles you.

“Sweetheart?! I have clothes for you,” he calls from the other side of the door.

You nervously pad your way over to him, the effects of the alcohol long worn off and with them your bravado. You didn’t know if you were ready for him to see you half-naked.

When you finally gain courage and open the door, what greets you is not what you expected. Mr. Evans is dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a plain white tee, looking tasty as ever, but he’s not facing you.

No. Instead, his back is to you, his arm completely extended out, as he holds the items of clothing for you to wear as he avoids looking at you.

“Uh, I don’t know if it’ll fit you, but it’s all I have. I’m pretty sure the dress will but the uh- panties are a bit tougher to guess. And I have new toothbrushes in the cabinet if you want to brush your teeth.”

Your heart swells at how much of a gentleman he is as you hold back the urge to kiss the crap out of this man. This also ignites a weird urge in you, though. To test his boundaries. How far was he willing to go to hold back? Because if he felt about you even remotely the way you felt about him, it wasn’t much.

The steam from your shower blows into him and a small smirk quirks his lips upwards. “You used my body wash.”

You grin, leaning against the door. “And your shampoo. No wonder you always smell so good,” you whisper to yourself.

He laughs, teasing. “And now you smell like a boy.”

“No,” you deadpan, dropping your voice a few octaves. “I smell like a man.”

He freezes, licking his lips lightly. “T-take the clothes, sweetheart.” His voice cracks slightly.

You tilt your head to the side, curious. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”

He breathes out a humorless laugh then shakes his head, growing stern. “You know why,” he rasps impatiently.

You hum in acknowledgment, learning you still love being able to affect him like this. Which is exactly why you take your sweet ass time reaching for the clothes.

“How much of a gentleman are you, Chris?”

His eyes screw shut at the sound of his name and you’re almost certain he whispers a small fuck under his breath. Your chest swells with pride.

“Y/n,” he growls. “Take the damn clothes.”

You ignore him, desperate to test out just how much restraint he had. So you stalk closer to him, making sure to press right up against him, barely brushing your towel-clad chest with his arm and bringing your lips closer to his neck, brushing them slightly. You were giving him the tiniest bit of feel of your touch but depriving him of everything else he could have all at the same time.

“How long will you be able to hold back?” You breathe softly against his ear.

You feel him shiver beneath you, his hands tightening around the clothes until his knuckles turn white. His eyes are screwed shut and he’s clearly struggling to control his breathing.

“Y/n,” he grits out. “Take the clothes right now or I swear-”

You don’t wait for him to finish, planting a quick peck on his cheek before stepping back.

“Okay,” you quip perkily. He releases a small sigh of relief as you snatch the clothes from his hand and hurriedly push him out.

Once he’s left, you press yourself against the door, biting your lip to hold back the huge beaming smile from sorting on our face. Your heart raced in your ribcage and your veins thrummed with adrenaline.

Teasing him was exhilarating.

...Plus, great payback for that little stunt he pulled this morning.

As you get dressed into the brand new pair of panties he handed you and the pretty white summer dress, you can’t help but wonder when you became this.

When you gained enough confidence to pull something like that off. When you chose play over work. When you stopped giving a dead rat’s last shit about consequences.

When you decided what Mr. Evans made you feel was worth all the risks you were taking.

I mean, it didn’t really matter when. It mattered how. And the how, now that was far harder to pinpoint...

The dress he’s handed you is knee-length and beautiful. The fabric is soft and the lace design is intricate and tight in your chest area but doesn’t take away from the breezy and elegant minimalism of the skirt which rests nicely against your legs. You don’t put on your heels, but you carry them with you.

The panties fit you well enough and you can’t help but blush thinking about how Mr. Evans knew what you were wearing underneath the dress right now.

After you finish getting dressed, you brush your teeth quickly and then step out of the bathroom, drying your hair with the towel.

The rich and delicious scent of coffee wafts to your nose and guides you to the kitchen where you find the most endearing scene ever; Mr. Evans flipping a pancake to the sound of some song on the radio.

He sings along softly under his breath.

“You make me feel so young You make me feel as though spring has sprung And every time I see you grin I'm such a happy individual”

You smile softly upon seeing him look so domestic. You weren’t used to it. He was always reading or teaching when you looked at him and you can’t help but think that he would make a wonderful husband and an even better father. You could already tell.

Your chest swells with a sweet sentiment at the image but you suppress your hopeful thinking, not wanting to keep your hopes up just to get them painfully shot down.

“Is that...Frank Sinatra?” You jest instead, brow raised.

Mr. Evans spins around to face you, a huge smile on his face. It freezes there when he spots you though, quickly twisting into a frown.

You frown, too, looking down at yourself self-consciously. “Is it that bad?”

He snaps out of it, shaking his head frantically. “N-no sweetheart. It’s just-” he clears his throat, looking away momentarily to regain composure before looking back at you. “That dress belonged to my ex-wife.”

You purse your lips, gently approaching him. “I can take it off it it’s too-“

“No,” he cuts you off. A small smile, sad but sincere, grows on his face. “It looks good on you.”

“Are you sure?” You murmur.

He smirks fondly down at you. “She was really into clothing and fashion. It was one of her greatest passions to share it with others. It’s what she would want. That beautiful dress going to waste it- she would’ve hated it.”

You smile softly. “She sounds like a great woman.”

He nods, a bittersweet kind of endearment lining his handsome face. “She was.”

You gaze at each other for a few seconds more before you grin teasingly. “So...you like Frank Sinatra?”

“Sure do, sweetheart.” He winks.

You snort. “Old man.”

He places an exaggerated hand over his heart, gasping dramatically. “I am not an ‘old man’!”

Laughter immediately tumbled from your lips at how ridiculous he looked.

“I will have you know, miss, Frank Sinatra is not only for old people. It takes a very special kind of person to truly enjoy his music.”

He turns off the stove and turns up the volume of the radio, approaching you with a ridiculous skip to his step.

“You and I are just like a couple of tots Runnin' across the meadow Pickin' up lots of forget me nots”

He’s incredibly off-tune in his singing but his steps go so suprisingly well with the music, it’s actually pretty comical.

You giggle as he holds his hand out, gently placing it in his. A small yelp tumbles out of your lips as he quickly tugs you to him, placing a hand on your waist benevolently swinging to the music.

“I can’t dance-” you try to explain hurriedly, flustered and trying to pull away.

He shushes you gently, squeezing you closer.

“Don’t worry. I can. You’re a fast learner, just follow me.”

You hesitate initially, but end up nodding and placing your hand neatly around his broad shoulder and the other in his.

He’s slow in his moves at first, deliberate. You watch him closely, barely keeping up.

“Mr. Evans I really can’t-”

“Okay one, I told you it’s Chris. And two, yes you can. It’s easy, you’ll get it. Look.” He says it with such confidence, it’s hard not to believe him.

He guides you again, warm hand still placed on your waist.

You watch intently and even though you stumble over your own feet at first, you eventually get into the swing of it.

Sort of.

“The moment that you speak I want to run and play hide and seek I wanna go and bounce the moon Just like a toy balloon”

The soothing sound of his voice singing along to the Frank Sinatra calms your nerves and you really concentrate, following his steps fairly decently.

“There you go,” he mutters proudly, suddenly accelerating the speed of his swings and steps.

“You make me feel so young You make me feel there are songs to be sung Bells to be rung And a wonderful fling to be flung”

Eventually, you fall in sync with his steps and you’re both twirling around the kitchen like a pair of lunatics. You swing your hips lightly like him, gaining a bit of confidence and he watches you with a small smirk.

A carefree smile subconsciously spreads over your lips, all broad and happy and you relish in the feel of his warmth and safety and just him- because just once every three seconds wasn’t enough. Especially when he makes you feel so loved.

Mr. Evans spins you a few more times as the song comes to an end.

“And even when I'm old and gray I'm going feel the way I do, today Because you make me feel so Man I just feel so You make me feel so young So young”

And when you least expect it, he dips you.

Laughter bubbles from deep within your chest as your hair falls back, the tips brushing the floor, your knee bends instinctively over his hip as you grip onto him tighter. You tremble beneath his touch when you feel his warm breath fan your chest softly. Mr. Evans swiftly brings you back up.

Your hair sweeps back on to your face, you’re out of breath and joyful laughter is still bubbling from your lips when you come face to face with Mr. Evans.

“That was so bad,” you breathe, softly panting.

He smiles against your lips, gaze locking with yours. “It was anything but, sweetheart.”

You smile back bashfully, suddenly aware of how close you were.

Your hand was still enveloped in his and the other still clasped firmly around his shoulder. His arm was still wrapped around your waist, his chest heaving against yours.

“I loved it.”

Your smiles slowly but surely slip off as you both gaze longingly at the other’s lips, minds thinking alike.

A familiar pressure begins building in your chest. You try to push it down, numb it, suppress it. But the pressure builds and builds. Your chest expands and your lungs shrink until you can’t breathe.

His eyes are so goddam beautiful. His face so gorgeous. His soul so brilliant.

“Sweetheart I-” his voice falters and he swallows audibly.

You can’t hold back anymore.

The moment was too spontaneous, too warm, too loving. Too natural. Everything about it felt right. Exact.

“I love you,” you breathe- easy as air. And then you can’t stop because you realize; you’ve been holding this back for so fucking long. Too fucking long. “I am in love with you Mr. Evans.”

Your lungs flood, your chest concaves and you can’t breathe. Anxiety claws its way into your brain, loud and obnoxious.

Suffocating you. Slithering around your heart and squeezing tightly. Stealing the breath from your lungs.

His eyes widen and he’s clearly taken aback. His lips part and his breath catches.

And for a mere second, a beaming smile spreads on his face, full of genuine joy and elation- before it's gone and you’re left completely confused, dread falling over you like a bucket of cold water, icing the blood in your veins.

It all stops for those few seconds. Time slows down and it feels more like an eternity before he speaks into the now tense atmosphere, breaking away from you abruptly.

“D-don't say that,” he croaks. “You don’t love me.”

The air rushes out of you in one big, disappointed breath. Pain at his words curls in your stomach.

“Yes, I do,” you reaffirm confidently, desperately seeking to close the distance between you two.

He instantly steps back, eyes watering. “Stop, sweetheart.” He begs.

You can’t though. You’ve never felt more right in your life than when you say you love him.

You pin his gaze with your own, eyes earnest. “I love you.”

His eyes flicker with anger. “No, you don’t.”

“But I do,” you breathe. “I do. I do and I just- I tried to fight it but I couldn’t because you’re incredible.”

He screws his eyes shut. “Stop.”

“You’re passionate about everything you do and kind and loving and for the first time in forever-“

“Stop.”

“For the first time in forever, I feel like I am alive. Like I am safe and loved and wanted.” Tears are now streaming down your face at the raw powerful emotions coursing through you at this very moment. And at the core truth in your words.

You finish closing the distance between you, tenderly reaching out and taking his hand in yours. He flinches softly but doesn’t make a move to step away.

“You-” you breathe uneasily, trying to find the right words to make him see. “Tell me it’s not just me. Tell me you feel the same, please,” you sob softly, tears dribbling down your chin. “I know you do.”

He watches you with anger and hurt but not importantly; with love.

Love.

That’s what he’s been watching you with this whole time! Love.

Your heart sings with joy for a second, but that’s before he’s ripping his hand from your grasp briskly- like you have a contagious disease or something.

“Stop! Just stop Y/n,” he growls. “Stop saying that. You don’t love me. You can’t.”

At this, your own anger flares.

“Yes, I do! You can’t tell me what to feel,” you snap.

His eyes flicker with an untamed wild that you’re not familiar with as it is so unlike the one that you bring out of him; the one you brought out in him is much more tender. Much more wild with passion and care. This one...it’s fueled on frustration and anger and hurt.

“We need to stop before this becomes too much.”

You can’t help but laugh dryly at that, pain gripping at your heart once more. “It already is too much, don’t you see?!” You motion around you aggressively. “We are already in too deep! So just-“ your voice softens. “Just let us feel what we’re going to feel.”

His eyes are unfamiliarly cold and calculating when they regard you. “No.”

You feel as if you’ve been stabbed in the heart, the color draining from your face. “No?”

“No,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “You-you're right we’re in too deep. We need to stop,” he releases in a huff, unable to formulate much else. Unable to formulate a reason for why he was destroying you right now.

And just like that, your heart was shattered to pieces. More tears, warm and overwhelming, prickle the backs of your eyes. You hold them back with as much strength as you can muster.

“Are you-“ you can’t breathe. You feel faint. Your world is falling apart right before your eyes.

“What are you saying?” You regret uttering those words as soon as they leave your lips. Probably because you already knew the answer to your own question.

He cracks and his face falls. “Sweetheart, we’re dangerous. We’re a ticking bomb just waiting to explode in our own faces. We-“ he falters with a deep rasp, staring deep into your eyes. “We both know how this is going to end if we continue like this. I already-“ he cuts himself off short, face struck. Like he’s said too much.

He’s broken your heart and now he’s turning the pieces to dust and never in your life have you felt such excruciating pain.

You hold onto to the small sliver of hope you have within you, though. “You already what?”

You look at him and you know your eyes are telling him exactly what you feel. You’re pleading with him. To take the chance. You’re offering him a chance to redeem all of this. You know what he’s going to say but he knows you need to hear it from him.

Please, please don’t do this to me. To us.

You can only hope he’ll respond. Though deep inside you know that’s not what’ll happen.

It doesn’t make it any less painful though.

He exhales deeply. “I’m saying that I’m stopping this right here. I-I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

Your face flushes with rage, unable to express your hurt any another way. “You can’t truly think that you’re taking advantage of me, Chris!”

He smacks the counter harshly and you jump, startled. “But I am! You’re-“ he once again snaps his mouth shut, running a frustrated hand through his hair, messing the strands up and licking his lips.

“I’m what?”

“You’re a child!” He bellows. “You’re...I’ll ruin you,” he breathes desperately, unable to conceal his frustrations any longer. “Don’t you see that? I- I’m going to destroy your innocence if we continue on like we are.”

He purses his lips, his face twisting into one of complete agony and your own heart clenches in recognition.

“I want you to,” you whisper-sob, the pain you were feeling right now suffocating. “I don’t care if you destroy me if it means being with you,” you cry desperately, tears streaming down your face one after the other.

“Do you even hear yourself right now? This is toxic. This- we can’t continue on like this. And you can’t love me.” He sighs deeply, face so filled with pain, it would’ve knocked you off your damn feet if your own pain weren’t already doing that. “We can’t be together, Y/n. We’re living in a fantasy world. One where what we’re doing is- it’s against every rule society has instilled!”

You can’t help it, you grow so frustrated you have to scream. “Fuck society! You can’t- what we feel,” you say firmly even though everything in you is struggling to not disintegrate into pieces. “What we feel is real. This- us, we're real,” you breathe. “You know we are.”

He looks so agonized, your heart squeezes in your chest and all you debate whether to smack him or hold him. “We can’t,” he whispers shakily.

You purse your lips, wanting to say so much more, wanting to shake him into sense but deciding for your own sake you weren’t going to beg him anymore. It was clear he didn’t want this. You pick up your shoes.

“Then that means you can’t love me either,” you whisper shakily, trying your best not to collapse right here right now with the heaviness of your heartbreak. “But I guess it’s too late for that, isn’t it?”

Your chest feels so crushing right now, it’s hard not to give. So you spin on your heels, making a beeline for the door before he can respond.

“Sweetheart-“ he calls, hand touching your arm like he’s done so many times before. Except this time, nothing about it was warm or comforting. All you feel is a prickle of anger sizzle under your skin where his touch was situated.

At who or what, you didn’t know yet.

You quickly step away from his hold, not even sparing him a glance. “Don’t call me sweetheart,” you mumble coldly. “I’m not yours to call that anymore.”

And then you walk out, your heart nothing but dust and your soul incomplete- leaving him there hopefully feeling the same.

Your walk home is grueling and you struggle so much to keep your composure. The perfect little houses perched on perfect little hills and perfect little streets irritated you more than usual and you felt like throwing some of the rocks laying on the road at them.

Your feet were still bare, but you didn’t bother putting your heels back on. Too much work.

The gloominess that loomed over them was significantly more abundant than usual and your chest burned with a wave of unreleased anger. Anger you were just too goddamn exhausted to release. Too heartbroken and hopeless.

You just wanted to hide in your room and cry. That’s all you fucking wanted.

When you get home, though, you’re shocked to find your father lounging on the couch, watching a football game on tv.

The sound of the door slamming shut alerts him of your arrival, and his eyes snap towards you immediately.

“Y/n,” his voice is gruff and his eyes narrow in suspicion. “Where the hell have you been all night?”

Great. You were already emotionally drained. This was the last thing you needed.

You throw your keys into the bowl near the door, expertly avoiding his probing gaze. “I was at Margo’s Dad,” you mumble quietly, hoping the curtness in your tone will keep his questions at bay for now.

He hums unconvincingly, eyes still watching you closely. “Are you sure?”

You turn to face him, deadpanning. “Yes, dad. I’m sure.”

He rises from his seat, approaching you slowly. “Really? Because I called up Michael and he said he hadn’t seen you there yesterday,” he pauses at the mention of Margo’s dad, bending slightly down to your level to peer menacingly down at your own gaze. He continues sardonically. “In fact, he said there was a family emergency he and his family had to attend to. So please, Y/n, tell me where it was you spent the night if not at Margo’s? And I expect the truth this time.”

Your nerves skyrocket at the intensity with which he asks this, and you swallow thickly. “I-”

It takes a few seconds before you fully gain your composure again. “I was at another friend’s house.”

His face flickers with anger and he grasps your wrist tightly. You yelp in shock and the tiniest bit of pain, eyes flying to his with surprise.

“Do you take me for a fool, Y/n?”

Your own anger flares as his words. You were already so emotionally rattled with what had just occurred with Mr. Evans- absolutely devasted, and to have to deal with this bullshit right after...it was too much.

“Let me go, Dad,” you grit out, trying so desperately to hold onto your tranquility. “Please.”

He’s never been like this with you. Never been physical. Never demanded anything. Never cared enough to do so. And this man- he wasn’t your dad. Your dad was the shell of a man he used to be, sure, but he wasn’t violent, he was stoic, monotone. Numb. Never...angry. Or furious like he was now.

“Not until you give me the answers I asked for. So answer me, goddamit! Where. The. Hell. Were. You. Last. Night?” he growls in between clenched teeth, hold tightening just a bit more with every word that left his mouth.

His breath stunk of alcohol, not enough where he wasn’t himself, but enough so that you could tell he’d downed at least three or fours shots of tequila, and you grew uneasy with each passing second.

“Dad, seriously. You’re hurting me.” You grimace, trying to tug yourself free once more, but he refuses to let you, only holding onto you more firmly.

His face twists into a disappointed frown that did a poor job of hiding the simmering fury boiling his blood. “You know something? I try so damn hard with you, Y/n. I really do. And this is the thanks I get? My daughter, sneaking off to God-knows-where to do God-knows-what?!”

“Dad-”

“For all I know, you could be out there, sluttin’ it up and I wouldn’t have a damn clue! Is this who I raised, Y/n?! Huh? A whore?” his face is beet red, a vein pops from his neck from the exertion of his screams. A bit of spit flies into your face and you flinch back, tears burning the back of your eyes and nose.

If you were heartbroken before, this completely destroyed you. The fact that your own father thought of you like this...it felt worst than anything you might’ve thought imaginable.

“Dad, stop. Please,” you beg quietly through a cracking voice. You tug at your arm harder, desperate to flee from his hold. From his words, which pierced straight through your already-shattered heart. “Please. I just want to go to bed.”

He scowls with disgust before finally releasing you with briskness. “A disgrace is what you are, girl,” he spits with repugnance. “Your mother would be ash-”

At the mention of your mother, you explode, unable to hold back the tears steadily running down your cheeks and blurring your vision. “My mother was kind! She was selfless and loving. She would’ve never laid a finger on me. She never would’ve-”

“No, your mother is dead!” He roars back, silencing you instantly. “Your mother was the love of my life, the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, but she is dead. She is gone forever and she can’t have a say in how I raise you. You must live with that. So long as you are under my roof, you will not conduct yourself in this manner, Y/n!”

You stomp your foot like a small child who’s getting reprimanded unfairly, your chest aching impossibly despite your insistent and raging fury. You were so done. With your dad, with society, with everything. So fucking done.

“Since when do you care about me dad?! Huh?!” Now it’s your turn to step up to him, poking at his chest harshly. “Because, for your goddam information, I have been living with that. Every fucking day of this miserable fucking life I’m barely surviving. You aren’t raising me. You never fucking were.” You point to yourself vigorously, looking him in the eye. “I did that. I fucking had to, because guess what, dad?” you spit the word ‘dad’ out like it’s bile in your mouth. You step away from him, face hard as stone, eyes cold and inaccessible. “You didn’t care enough to.”

“So please,” you growl. “Spare me this bullshit. And spare me your phony concern and sudden want to step up and be a father. Because it’s too late for that.”

His nostrils flare with rage. “Are you fucking serious? I lost one of the people that mattered to me the most, Y/n. What the hell did you expect to do? To be okay? To get over it? I lost my wife,” his voice cracks with pain and for the first time in a long time, you get a glimpse of emotion from underneath all the suppressed pain. A crack in the facade that only drives you even more mad with frustration and anger.

You sob harder, unable to control yourself from exploding at him.

“I lost her too!” you bellow, tears coming down harder and faster than ever before. Your voice, raw with pain. Your stomach clenching in a pathetic attempt to keep your knees from giving out beneath you.

“After all these years, you still don’t get that. You lost your wife but I lost my mom. S-she never got to teach me about makeup. O-or how to walk in heels. She never got to give me advice on boys. She never-” you swallow thickly, a lump already forming in your throat at your own words. “...got to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be alright. I never got that,” you wail, pain curling like a vice around your every word.

Your chest heaves with your effort and you clench your fists beside you.

“So, yes, dad! That is exactly what I expected you to do! Because that’s what dads do! They’re there for their children. They’re strong for them. Instead, I had to be strong for both of us. I was six when she died, Dad,” you breathe desperately. “Six. And I had to hold both of us together so that we didn’t fall apart. Do you have any idea what that did to me!? No, you don’t. Because you’re never here!”

You furiously wipe at your tears, gaze pinning his down with a strength you had no idea the source of.

Finally being able to get years of agony off your chest leaves you drained but satisfied in some way. Glad. Relieved.

Your tone lowers significantly with the drain of your energy.

“So no, I won’t tell you where I spent the night because you don’t have the right to know. You don’t.”

You turn on your heels to flee as quick as possible before he speaks again, voice low with what you can only guess is guilt.

Ha, of course. Now he feels bad.

“Y/n wait-”

People in your life do that shit way too much.

You pause mid-step but don’t turn around to face him. “Just- go back to drinking and watching your game dad,” you rasp exhaustedly, sluggishly making your way back to your room. “It’s what you do best anyway.”

Read Chapter Thirteen Here!!

***

Guys I’m crying. Those last bits with Mr. E and the dad were so intense to write but like the dancing to Frank Sinatra brought my heart so much joy and I’m just...

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#Chris Evans #chris evans au #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #teacher!chris evans x student!reader

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stattic-writes · 5 years

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Puppy

https://statticscribbles.tumblr.com/post/639099629845233664/masterlist

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#reggie mantle #reggie x reader #reggie x you #reggie x y/n #reggie mantle x you #reggie mantle x y/n #reggie mantle imagine #reggie mantle reader insert #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale fandom #riverdale fanfiction #written #female reader #female reader insert

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ecfandom · 5 years

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Polis 433 Ch. 13 Preview

I’m sorry for the wait!!

***

“Do you have someone to pick you up tomorrow?” Clarke asked as she kept herself busy folding Lexa’s jeans and shirt. Her mind circled endlessly around their conversation in the chamber, the feeling of Lexa’s hand in hers, Lexa’s palm cradling her cheek, and the terrible story behind the burn scars eclipsing Lexa’s hand and wrist. That story had lingered in the back of her mind ever since she’d read about it, eating at her in a mixture of guilt at having read something so intimate about Lexa’s past, and sorrow at the physical and emotional pain she knew Lexa must have endured. Seeing the tangible evidence of what’d happened to Lexa, feeling the scarred skin beneath her touch, had left her feeling strange, sad and just generally out of sorts. She was not, however, too self absorbed to notice Lexa’s lack of a response. She smiled when she walked over to Lexa’s bed with her folded clothes and found Lexa nearly half asleep.

“Hey,” she said softly, and combed her fingers through Lexa’s hair. “Sleepy?”

Lexa cracked open an eye and grinned. She nodded, lulled by Clarke’s fingers in her hair and the warming blankets on top of her. “You spoil me,” she murmured, gazing at Clarke with so much affection, Clarke quickly looked away, distracting herself with Lexa’s clothes once more. She had never been looked at the way Lexa looked at her. It was too much--piercing and knowing, and worst of all, so very gentle.

“I told you,” Clarke said, wanting to clear the lump in her throat, “friendship with me has its perks.”

“If I recall, I’m not the one who needs the convincing.”

Clarke flushed and good-naturedly tousled Lexa’s hair in retaliation. “Don’t tease.”

“I would never,” Lexa swore, her brow furrowing in mock seriousness. Clarke rolled her eyes, and her hand stilled in Lexa’s hair. Her smile fell, and before Lexa could ask if she was okay, she slipped her hand to Lexa’s cheek, feeling the skin there with the back of her hand.

“You’re a little warm,” Clarke murmured, searching Lexa’s eyes for any signs of distress. “Do you feel okay?”

“Fine. More than fine,” Lexa said with a wink that had a hot, red blush racing up Clarke’s throat.

Taryn clearing her throat from the doorway had Clarke nearly jumping back as Taryn strode into the room with a guitless grin.

“Sorry, was I interrupting something?”

“Fuck off,” Lexa groaned with a laugh, rolling her eyes at Taryn’s knowing smile.

“That’s no way to talk to your doctor.”

“Remind me again how I got stuck with you as my doctor?”

“Oh, I think it was when I shoved a needle into you arm and administered the Epi that re-started your heart and saved your life, you ungrateful jerk. Maybe next time I’ll let you code a little longer.”

“Hey,” Clarke snapped, “that’s not funny.”

“Only joking,” Taryn said, raising her hands in surrender. “How are we feeling, Lexa?”

“Ready to get out of here.”

“Yeah, you’ve been saying that since you woke up in here a week ago.”

“Well, the sentiment remains. You’re still discharging me tomorrow, right?”

“Sure,” Taryn said with a shrug. “If your system behaves overnight, I don’t see why not.”

“It will. I want to be out for the game. I was just inviting Clarke when you so rudely interrupted.”

Clarke laughed incredulously. “No you weren’t.”

“Well, I was about to.” Lexa reached out and grabbed the front of the scrubs Clarke had changed into before Lexa’s treatment, and gave her a little tug. Clarke tried to hold back a smile as she let herself be pulled back to Lexa’s bedside, blushing furthermore and rolling her eyes as Taryn watched on, her arms crossed, and an amused grin on her face.

“Go with me,” Lexa murmured. “I’ve got four tickets. I promised one to Taryn’s sister-in-law, but I have two left over. Bring Ellie. It’ll be fun. Popcorn, hotdogs...come on. It’s the best.”

“What game are we talking about?” Clarke asked, removing Lexa’s hand from her scrubs and placing it back on Lexa’s lap with an amused pat.

“Polis Patriots,” Taryn filled, “minor-league baseball.”

“Oh,” Clarke said with a frown. “I don’t remember that being a thing when I was little.”

At Lexa’s silent plea for help, Taryn continued. “They moved from Juneau a couple of years ago. You should come. We all go. My sister-in-law, Paxton, just got back in town. You can meet her if you haven’t already. My girls are coming with Ella too. I’m sure Lily would love to see Ellie.”

Clarke looked from Taryn to Lexa, endeared by the look of hope on Lexa’s face. “When is it?”

“Wednesday. Do you work?” Lexa asked.

Clarke held back a grin at Lexa’s hopeful eyes. “In the morning.”

“Perfect. It’s not until seven. Come on,” Lexa said, “it’ll be fun.”

Clarke sighed, patting Lexa’s hand. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re oxygen drunk.”

“You’ll go?”

“If you’re sure you don’t want to give those tickets to someone else.”

Lexa scoffed. “Who else would I give them to? You know Ellie’s my number one.”

***

Clarke felt like an idiot walking through the hospital with the wide grin on her face, but despite what she tried, it wasn’t going anywhere, even after she picked-up Ellie from the peds wing with a full diaper and sugar crash. With a fresh new diaper, and a snack from the cafeteria to bring her blood sugar back up, her happy, chatty toddler had returned full force. As they often were, Ellie’s hands were relentless as they worked their way over Clarke’s hair and face, played with the necklace Clarke wore, and toyed with the pen light in her chest pocket, all the while talking a mile a minute in gibberish Clarke could only half understand.

“Mommy,” she asked, patting Clarke’s cheek for emphasis.

“Yes, Love?” She gently pulled Ellie’s hand away and settled it between them, hiking Ellie up further onto her hip as Ellie squirmed around in her arms.

“I want see Wexa.”

“She’s resting right now. We can see her some other time.”

“No, now!”

“Ellie,” Clarke said, a gentle warning in her voice, “no yelling.”

“But want Wexa now, Mommy.”

“I know, baby. We’ll see her soon. We’re going to go to a baseball game with her.”

“What’s that?”

“Baseball? It’s a sport. Like when we kick the ball in the backyard and play soccer.”

“Soccer!” Ellie squealed, delighted by the thought of one of her favorite past times.

Clarke laughed and gave Ellie a fond squeeze. She was so in love with her baby’s joy and energy. Ellie had an insatiable propensity for new ways to have fun, and Clarke often marveled at and admired her spirit. Call her biased, but Ellie was a tiny bundle of perfection she would never get enough of. She kissed Ellie’s cheek and took in her wonderful baby smell, hoping never to forget the little moments like these, so often lost in the chaos of her busy life.

She still had her nose pressed to Ellie’s hair when a figure rounded the hallway at nearly a jog and side-stepped just in time to avoid a collision.

“Oh, Clarke, jesus, I’m sorry,” Abby said, one hand over her chest, the other clasping her daughter’s shoulder, steadying them both.

“I forgot how fast you walk down these hallways,” Clarke said with a chuckle, slightly breathless from the scare.

“Sorry, Love, it’s a bad habit. And oh my goodness, there’s my favorite little munchkin in the whole wide world,” Abby cooed, taking Ellie into her arms when her granddaughter shouted her name and leaned towards her. “What are you two doing here?” She asked Clarke. “I didn’t think you were on today.”

“I’m not, I…” Clarke said, then paused, suddenly confronted by the fact that she would have to tell her mother about Lexa, or she would have to lie--something she hadn’t done to her mother since she was a teenager. “I was visiting a friend,” she said, deciding on the safe middle road.

“Is everything okay? Raven? Octavia?”

“God no, it’s not them. I would have said so at the start.”

“Oh,” Abby said, then grinned. “A secret friend, then?”

“Mom, don’t start.”

“Don’t start!” Ellie echoed, her brow furrowing into a comically deep frown. “Don’t start, gammie!”

“What? What am I starting? Huh? Come on,” Abby teased, bouncing Ellie until she was giggling and burrowing her smiling face into Abby’s neck. “So it is a secret friend,” Abby then said, turning her attention back towards Clarke. “Is it a...special friend?”

“Mom, I’m not in high school anymore. Please, spare me.”

“Fine,” Abby said, giving an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t tell me any of the fun details then, I’ll subsist on the same old, stale hospital gossip.”

Clarke laughed and rolled her eyes. “You’re the chief of surgery, you’re not supposed to be listening to that garbage.”

“Darn right, I’m not. The things I hear...it’d make even the devil’s cheeks burn!”

Clarke felt her stomach suddenly flip at the thought of her mother hearing any of the common rumors that circulated the hospital halls, always having to do with who was fucking who in the on-call rooms. She cleared her throat. “Just in case it was already apparent, I’d just like to state for the record that nothing that you hear around here pertains to me. And if you do hear my name, it’s a lie.”

“Don’t I know it,” Abby said with a sigh. “Your love life is tragic, my dear.”

“Mom!”

“Speaking of--”

“No, we’re not speaking of—”

“--that strapping, young firefighter from your Memorial Day bar-b-q is here. Did you know?”

“I…” Clarke said, already fumbling over that word alone.

“Of course you did. I’m guessing that’s your secret, special friend.”

Clarke groaned, then smiled in embarrassment at the look it drew from one of the nurses standing outside a nearby room. Clarke had grown up at this hospital, spending more after-school hours here than in her own home. The hospital hallways of Polis Memorial were practically her living room, the cafeteria her dining room. She’d had more personal conversations with her mother here than anywhere else. It was almost comical.

“Oh for the love of...not you too,” Clarke said, leaning up against the wall to avoid a technician pushing a portable x-ray machine.

Abby grinned and handed Ellie back to her daughter. “Just promise me you’ll let yourself have some fun.”

“Mom.”

“A date or two would be nice.”

“Mom!”

“Alright, alright.” Abby threw up her hands in defeat, then fondly stroked Ellie’s cheek and booped her on the nose. “Grandma's leaving. I mean it, Clarke. Please try to relax.”

Clarke sighed. “I will do my best.”

“Good. I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow night, yes?” Abby asked over her shoulder, already halfway down the hall.

Clarke threw her a thumbs up in response and turned and walked the other way. “The women in my life are crazy,” she muttered to Ellie, who simply beamed at her and nodded.

#polis 433 #ffau #clexa au #clexa #clexa fanfiction

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wild-aloof-rebel · 5 years

Text

When David steps into the motel, everything is almost disappointingly ordinary. The room looks the same as it had when he’d left it yesterday afternoon. An empty cinnamon roll box still lies open on the table. His overnight bag still sits atop the cedar chest. An army of nail polish bottles are still strewn across the nightstand. Alexis is propped up in bed, nose buried in her phone, and their mother is screeching something about "the wrong shade of black" on the other side of the connecting door.

David has walked in or woken up to a similar scene nearly every day for the past few years, and yet he’d expected today to be different somehow: a different room with different faces to greet him. Because today he is different. Because today he’s not the lonely and friendless misanthrope he’d been the day they’d moved in. He’s not even the hopeful and happy boyfriend he’d been just yesterday morning, excited about an afternoon picnic and wherever the evening might lead.

Because, today, he’s engaged.

How could anything possibly be the same?

Still in a bit of a daze about it all, he manages to make his feet carry him around his bed so that he can sit down. What he's supposed to do next, however, he isn't sure.

He’s engaged. Patrick had asked him to marry him. He’s engaged to the absolute love of his life, and they’re going to get married. They’re going to have a wedding. They're going to spend the rest of their lives together.

The full weight of the realization hits him like a truck, and he buries his face in his hands, overwhelmed and happy and relieved and embarrassingly, giddily, stupidly in love. He wants to cry. He wants to scream. He wants to laugh until his stomach aches. He's getting married.

“David?” comes Alexis’s voice from the other bed. “Are you oka– What are THOSE?”

He lifts his face to find her mouth open comically wide in shock, one accusatory finger pointed straight at his left hand. He hadn't been sure his family would even notice, wondering if he'd have to all but slap them across the face with them to get anyone to pay attention, but he should have known Alexis would sniff out new jewelry in a heartbeat. A glance at the four gold rings adorning his fingers sets his whole face twisting to hide the wide grin threatening to break free.

“David,” she says again, keener this time. “Are those what I think they are?”

He manages to move his head in a little tremor of a yes that grows and grows into an exaggerated, exuberant nod. “Yes,” he replies. “Yes, Patrick asked me to–”

“DAVID!” She launches herself off the bed, nearly toppling him over in excitement as she bounces onto the mattress beside him.

“Shhhhhh.” He glances toward the connecting door. “I am not telling mom before her afternoon valium kicks in."

"God, can you imagine?" she says with a grimace. “Let me see!” He holds his hand out to her and watches as she runs a gentle finger across his rings. Despite her obvious excitement, there’s something a little longing in the touch, something a little sad, and for a fraction of a second, he wants to pull her into his arms and tell her that she’ll have another chance at this. But then she opens her mouth again. “Are they 24 karat?”

“Fuck off, Alexis!” He snatches his hand away, but she just shimmies it right off of her shoulders.

“So did he get down on one knee? Did he do something super cliché like putting them in a glass of champagne? Oh my god, did he sing? Please tell me he sang something super embarrassing. I need the deets!”

“Okay, don’t say ‘deets.’ This isn’t 2005.”

David pushes himself to his feet. There’s too much excitement thrumming in his veins. He needs to move, or he might actually explode with joy, which would be the most embarrassing thing to happen to him in this room since his dad had walked in on him and Patrick celebrating their baseball win. Still, a soft smile slips back onto his face as he walks circles into the carpet, remembering the way Patrick's face had lit up when David had said yes.

“If you must know, he took me on a hike, and–”

“A hike? I thought you said you were going on a picnic.” Her look of surprise melts into a pout. “You poor thing.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, though there’s hardly any bite in it. He’s just too damn happy to really mean it. “We did have a picnic. It was just on top of a mountain. And it was perfect, okay?”

When she doesn’t tease him or press him for more details, he stops pacing to find her looking at him with some unfamiliar mix of emotions.

“What?”

“I just--" She shakes her head. "You’re engaged, David."

"I know."

"No, like, you're actually going to get married."

"I know."

"But you, David. Of all people."

“Um, there's a lake just up the highway. Can you drive into it please?"

She scoffs. “I didn’t mean it like that. It's just, like, I always assumed that I would be the one to get to have that great big dream wedding we used to plan when we were kids." Her fingers absently tangle in her hair, her eyes unfocused now as she gets lost in some thought that makes her smile. "Do you remember when we broke apart mom's pearls to use for the seating chart?"

David remembers it well. That had been back when Alexis's modelling career hadn't yet taken off and her only trips around the world had been on family vacations with the rest of them. Back when breaking into the wig room just to have a look around had been the most dangerous thing they'd ever dared to do. "Adelina thought she was going to be furious."

"But when we told mom, she just said to use the sapphires instead next time because they better complemented the color scheme." They both laugh at the memory. Things had been so much easier then, back before they'd both gone out into the world and let it make things hard.

Happiness had been easier.

Love had, too.

"You just never really seemed interested in all that," Alexis says. "The planning part, yes, but not the part where you get yourself a cute, little husband.”

David can’t stop the smile that blossoms across his face at the word. Patrick is going to be his husband. He buries his face in his hands again, feeling the way his skin heats against his fingertips at the thought.

“I wasn’t,” he admits through his fingers. “Interested. Before.”

“Patrick’s changed you, David.” The smile that she gives him is strangely proud. “You’ve let him change you.”

There are so many things he's done in the last year that he'd never thought he'd do in his life. Things he'd never wanted to do. He's hiked up a mountain, and he's hit a homerun, and he's clambered across shaky boards thirty feet in the air. He's learned about tax brackets and insurance premiums. He's gotten up before 9 a.m., when the occasion has called for it.

"I know," he says.

Patrick has taught him to compromise, has shown him that sometimes you have to give more than you take, has shown him that sometimes trust and contentment and unconditional love can still be easy.

Because at the end of the day, all he wants is to make Patrick happy. It's as easy and as hard as that. He wants to give back every single ounce of joy that Patrick has given to him, and if that means that sometimes he has to move the lip balms a few inches down the counter, then that's something David can do. Because Patrick--because his fiancé--is worth it.

"I kind of think--" Alexis says, frowning a little like the words taste sour on her tongue, "I think I want to hug you."

"I'm sorry?"

She stands up and steps closer. "Can I hug you, David?"

"Oh. Um, o-okay."

Her arms are around him before the word is all the way out of his mouth. She squeezes him tight, hands clasped together behind his back, and he wraps his arms around her shoulders, closes his eyes, and breathes.

It's been years since they've done this, standing in nearly this same spot after she'd broken up with Mutt, and David isn't the only one who's changed since then. Alexis has pushed herself to be better in nearly every area of her life. She'd gone back to high school. She'd gotten her certificate. She'd turned down a job offer that would have taken her out of this town. And in the most un-Alexis move of all, she'd let go of Ted--chosen his happiness over her own--only to find him choosing her in the end. David is fiercely proud of her. Even if he'd never say it.

"I can't believe you're getting married," she mumbles into his sweater.

He holds her a little closer, ignoring the tears threatening to form. "I can't believe you're leaving."

"I'll be back in six months."

"You better be." He pulls back with a watery little laugh, blinking against the sting of his eyes. "Who else is going to help me arrange all those diamond-studded floral centerpieces?"

She rubs a hand across a wet cheek and chuckles. "I think the diamonds are gonna be hard to come by these days. You might have to settle for cubic zirconia."

"Ew. Why would you even say that to me?"

"And since Elton probably isn't an option anymore, maybe you can just get mom and the Jazzagals to sing a little medley for your first dance."

"Oh my god. Stop!" He swats a hand at her, but she dances out of his reach.

"Instead of the horse-drawn carriages, there could be, like, goats pulling a wagon."

His horrified gasp is drowned out by her gleeful cackle, and she bounds across her bed as he lunges after her, chasing her around the room as she continues to hurl increasingly disgusting suggestions his way.

"The cocktail hour can feature sangria with that gross fruit wine mom filmed that commercial for. The dinner can be a barbecue. Oh! The ceremony can be at town hall. You can get married at Roland's desk!"

"I hate you."

He does. He hates that she knows exactly what buttons to push, and he hates that she could push them with her eyes closed. He hates that she's reminding him in this otherwise happy moment of everything that they've lost. But most of all he hates that she isn't even going to be here to help with most of the planning. All those fantasy weddings they'd imagined as kids, they'd dreamed them up together. How is he supposed to plan his real wedding without her?

She pouts at him, but her eyes are still shining with glee. God, he loves her. He's gotten so used to having her around, he really doesn't know what he's going to do without her for six months.

"Oooh," she squeals. "You and Patrick can rent suits from that menswear store in Elmdale."

Okay, he takes it back. He does hate her after all.

"I hope you get eaten by a tortoise."

#schitt's creek #schitts creek #david rose #alexis rose #i love exactly two (2) siblings #s5 #the hike #coda #s5 spoilers #rebel writes #is 1900 words still technically a ficlet?#asking for a friend #and that friend is me because i clearly don't understand the meaning of brief lolol

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everythingshawnmendes · 6 years

Text

A Heart’s Memory (Teacher!Shawn Mendes x Reader)

A/N: I read something like this in a Harry Styles fic, I really don’t remember from where though. If you are the writer and want this removed, with all due respect contact me, I am in no way shape or form trying to plagiarize.

Summary: Shawn is an elementary school teacher and has a son with his wife who unfortunately died during childbirth. Y/N has a daughter the age of his son and they go to school together. Little does she know her kid’s teacher is her first love from school.

5k+ words

tag @xmanorianx @shawnsassymendes

Inspired from this:

“Can you ever stop loving someone?

You never stop loving. Once you love someone, honestly, truly, you will never be able to un-love them. At that time your old love will not feel so strong, but it is a heart, and it will never let you forget something that ever made you happy.”

Shawn sat back and admired his newly decorated classroom. It was August 30th, the day before school would start again. He taught the 2nd grade, the grade his son Thomas was in.

Teaching elementary school made Shawn so incredibly happy. He loved kids, and what he loved even more than them was his role of leading them through the beginning of their lives and making sure each one of his students was happy. Childhood was really a crucial part to anybody’s happiness and life, and he wanted to make sure every child felt like home in his classroom. He decorated the room with plants, planning on assigning one to each student so they can water it and let it grow. In the corner, he put blankets and bean bags for naptime, because the lucky 7-year-olds he taught were granted a nap time twice a week after lunch. He also purchased new games, books and coloring sheets for downtime. He also hoped to get a pet fish or hamster, so they can look after it together, but he would have to check out the dynamic of the group before that. One year, his class and he had a goldfish and it was truly a part of their class; another year, they had a betta fish and the students completely neglected it and Shawn had to be the one feeding it everyday.

He also put posters across the walls, bright colorful ones to mask the dull white that surrounded the room. He checked out his class list. He was very happy, since from a special request, most of his students from 1st grade that he taught last year will have been moved to his class so they can do 2 years together. He wasn’t one to choose favourites but there was this girl that was best friends with his son Thomas, that he absolutely adored. Witty, comical and yet very understanding, Rose was for sure one of his most prized students.

He checked the cabinets to make sure there were cookies and cups. The first day of school always ended with a teacher-parent meeting. He was never really nervous for those, since he knew that he was a good teacher, and everybody else seemed to think so too.

Shawn closed his classroom door, waved goodbye to his colleagues and went to the school yard where he left Thomas. The end of summer breeze was certainly there, but he was warm enough in his thin button up shirt.

“Hey buddy, we’re leaving!” He ran up to his son, who was sliding down a slide that was Shawn’s height.

“Daddy I don’t wanna go! Rose is here.”

“Oh hey, Rose, didn’t see ya there!” Shawn waved at the smiling girl behind his son.

“Hi Mr. Mendes! Is Tommy gonna be in our class this year?” She asked, two (your hair color) French braids falling down on her shoulders.

“No unfortunately. Rules say it wouldn’t be fair if a kid had their parent as a teacher.” Shawn made an exaggerated pouty sad face.

“No!”

“It’s okay Rose, we will see each other at recess. And lunch. And second recess.” Thomas said affirmatively.

The two slid down the slide to join Shawn on the pebbled ground.

“Wait a minute.” Shawn frowned. “Rose, how’d you get here?”

“I Apparated, duh.” She said, making Shawn chuckle. The saying sounded vaguely familiar, but he just brushed it off, assuming he just watched Harry Potter too many times. “My babysitter drove me.” She pointed at a car in the parking lot, in which sat a woman on the phone.

“My bad. So will I be seeing your parents tomorrow?” He asked her.

“Hmm… I think my mommy will come!”

“Alright cool! I’ve never met her actually.”

“She’s the best. I’m cooler of course, but shh don’t tell her I said that.” She smiled even wide, her smile making Shawn melt.

The three walked to the parking lot, Shawn racing them to the fence and letting them win, feigning being out of breath.

“Beat ya!” Tommy shouted as he watched his dad stagger up to him, clutching his chest.

“Yes, you did! My man.” Shawn exclaimed, picking his son up and twirling him in the air.

They both waved goodbye to Rose and got on the road. They didn’t live very far, only a couple minutes away. It was a neighbourhood school after all, none of the students living over twenty minutes away.

On the way home, Thomas told Shawn a story about a game he played, but Shawn zoned out a bit.

He thought about what Rose said about her mother saying, which lead him to think about Thomas’ mom.

He got married to her and had Thomas, but unfortunately, she passed away from a mishap during her C-section. They were both so young. He pushed the thoughts away from his mind. It was very hard to get over at first, but he had quite a distraction since Thomas was still to be taken care of. They were quite happy, Shawn remembered. But she was gone, and it had been way too long, and the memory of her became very foggy. He wished Thomas could grow up with a mother, because even though he gave his son everything, all of his love, a child deserves a mother’s too.

“And then BOOM! Thomas the train crashed into the station!”

Shawn snapped out of his trail of thoughts and grinned at his son through the mirror.

“You’re kidding!” Shawn exclaimed.

“Nope.” Thomas said, before looking out the window, the TV episode clearly replaying in his head.

Shawn shook his head, smiling and pulled up to the driveway.

“Alright buddy, what do you want for dinner?” He ruffled his son’s head as they took off their shoes in the entrance, Shawn picking up a bunch of toys left astray.

Thomas pondered a while, as if this decision was as important as choosing a wife.

“Lasagna!”

“I think we can make that happen. Wanna help me?”

“Okay!”

Y/N turned her key in the doorknob and opened the door.

“Mommy!” Rose came running down the stairs to hug her mother.

“Rosie, hi darling.” Y/N kneeled down to hug her daughter tightly.

Y/N was a full-time single mother and worked her ass off everyday. She was a private optometrist, having her own clinic. Her hours usually extended from 9-6, which is still pretty late as Rose finishes school at 3. Y/N was a terrific mother, and Rose was the center of her world. She knew when to be soft, when to be harsh, what to teach and how to teach it. The only thing was she worked, to give Rose and her the most comfortable life possible.

Y/N got pregnant with Rose the last year of optometry school by her then-boyfriend. He left them and ever since then, Y/N had been on her own. She was definitely not as strong as she made her look, but Rose was her drive in life. Ever since then, she had worked so that she could be where she was today.

She lived in a comfortable home, not too big since they were only two, plus their cat. Rose had a babysitter from 3-5, as Y/N could almost never make it to pick Rose up when school ended.

When Rose was even younger, and Y/N’s clinic had only started and she had to work longer hours, Y/N would often bring Rose to her work. Now though, they had a much nicer schedule. Y/N’s clinic was popular enough for her to hire another optometrist to work the evening.

“Hi Sam, thanks so much.” Y/N hugged the babysitter goodbye. “So, what were you up to today?” She said, taking off her blazer and going to pull out a dinner out the fridge that she had prepped during the weekend.

“Can you come to the parent-teacher conference tomorrow after school? I wanna you to meet my teacher.”

“Wait, are you gonna have your last year’s, the one you absolutely adore?”

“Yeah! Mr. Mendes!”

“Hmm. Okay love, I’ll try.”

Shawn dressed up a tiny tad fancy for the first school day. It was elementary school after all, the dress code was very very flexible, but he wanted to make a good impression on the parents. He had a weird feeling in his stomach as if someone he knew was going to be there and he wanted to look his best, but he shook it of as nerves. He opted for a cool printed blue shirt and added a jacket on top.

His day had been amazing, his students rushed in when the eight ’o’clock bell rang. They took their seats, and they played games, then designed their own name cards to stick on their desks. Shawn had lunch in the teacher’s lounge and chatted with the school secretary Amanda, a cute blonde he went out with once. The afternoon, he taught his students how to play chess and discussed on the subject of getting a pet, which was warmly welcomed.

“Can we get a dog?” A boy asked.

“How are we gonna keep a dog in a school?” Rose giggled. “We need an animal that won’t run around everywhere and won’t mind being in a cage at night when we’re not here!”

Shawn nodded.

“Wait, but don’t be sad Ollie.” Rose whispered to the boy who suggested the dog idea. “The dog was a really good idea. I actually really want one too, but my mommy doesn’t wanna.”

The day ended, and Shawn and the kids cleaned the class for the parents. The ones whose parents couldn’t come went home, and those who stayed colored on the paper cups their parents would drink coffee from later.

Thomas came from the other class to join his dad. He was sitting with Rose who was fast at work, decorating her cup with flowers. Her mom loved flowers.

A couple parents started walking in, greeting Shawn and then sat by their children. When only one or two chairs were empty, Shawn decided to start. He opened his mouth to greet the socializing parents but was interrupted by a woman’s voice by the door.

“Hi, is this- hey Rose!” Y/N said, spotting her daughter.

Shawn turned around and his insides came to a halt.

By the door stood a woman who looked no different than any other woman, that yet stood out to Shawn as if she was the only one he has ever seen. With soft (your hair color) hair that lay delicately on her shoulders, she had a smile that Shawn had seen too many times. Y/N, his first love from university. Her voice had not changed one bit, still honey-like smooth, and bird-song like melodic. She laughed when Rose ran up to her, and Shawn’s heart felt a pang. He hadn’t heard that laugh in over a decade, and yet the sound of it entering his eardrums again brought everything back and triggered a series of memories. Shawn ogled her. God, she was beautiful. She wore simple high-waisted work pants matched with black heels. Shawn smiled weakly, remembering something she once told him about loving loose pants, because it felt like she wasn’t wearing any. He was surprised to see her in heels though, because in university she absolutely swore off them. Well, things must’ve changed since they last saw each other, Shawn thought. Yes, things have changed. But the fluttering sensation his heart used to make around her did not fade away.

Y/N stood back up, placed a strand of her hair back and scanned the room for the teacher she had heard so much of. Her gaze laid on Shawn and she swallowed. Her university best friend turned lover looked ethereal to her right now. He looked exactly the same, and completely different. He was a man now, no longer a student boy; and yet all of his features were familiar. The brown of his eyes, the soft brown curl of hair that always fell in front of his eyes.

Shawn swore at himself internally. Of course, Y/N was Rose’s mother. Rose was the reincarnation of her, and all her mannerisms, her quirks. They had the same hair color, the same eyebrow shape, the same sense of humor, the same curiosity. He wanted to kick himself for not having realized the uncanny similarities. He gathered everything he had in him and approached her.

“Hi.” Y/N said, looking up at him. She chuckled. “Sorry I’m late, I wish I could just Apparate haha. I should’ve known it was you Rose was talking about when she spoke of a certain Mr. Mendes who loved to play guitar and had a mini Canada flag in his pencil holder.”

“And I should’ve known you were Rose’s mom. She’s just like you, it’s unreal.” Shawn said. He couldn’t help but glance down at her lips, and see they remained just as blossom-like, pink as they once were.

“Well, I’ll go take a seat. Maybe we can catch up after?” Y/N said hopefully.

“Of course.”

Y/N walked to Rose’s desk and sat down on her tiny chair, pulling her daughter onto her lap happily.

Shawn cleared his throat, suddenly way more nervous about this than he was twenty minutes ago. He proceeded to welcome everyone warmly, and talked about himself a bit, then his plan for the year, as well as some fun field trips he would like to take the kids on if the school decides to fund them.

In brief, Shawn thought the parents had taken a good liking to him. As they left one by one, he was greeted by handshakes and smiles. He saw Y/N in the corner of his eye looking around the classroom carefully. He knew she wanted to hang back and talk to him, and he was happy she did.

Thomas and Rose were in his little game corner, already cracking open the brand-new Monopoly game Shawn bought yesterday.

“I love what you did to the classroom.” Y/N turned around to Shawn, as he leaned back on a desk.

“Thanks, it’s really nothing. Just thought it’d be more pleasant to learn in a colorful class, you know?”

Y/N smiled at him, eyeing him. Finally, she said:

“I just can’t believe we bumped into each other like this again. How long has it been?” She asked almost breathlessly, as if amazed by the lapse of time that has passed.

“At least 8 years.” Shawn answered back incredulously. Y/N took a seat on the desk beside him, crossing her ankles.

“Damn.”

“So what have you been up to? How’d you have Rose?” There were so many questions Shawn had. They had gone from being inseparable to complete strangers, and a part of him wanted to make up that time. A part of him remembered her way too clearly now.

“Well. Since university, I’ve gone to optometry school. Got pregnant with Rose during my last year. When I graduated, her dad left us, so I worked my ass off to try to get my name out in the market. Worked for a couple clinics, before opening my own. And now I’m here!”

“I’m sorry about Rose’s father. Do you still have contact with him?” Shawn asked subtly.

“No, um we haven’t spoken since he left.” Y/N looked down, before looking back up at him. “And you? Thomas is a great kid.”

“Haha thank you. Um I’m widowed actually.”

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” Y/N put a hand on his arm.

“No no, it’s okay. It was a long time ago, I’m over it. But she was cool, you would’ve liked her.”

“Man, we’ve just got the best luck huh?” Y/N chuckled lightly, nudging his elbow playfully.

Shawn laughed with her, reddening slightly at the contact.

Y/N watched their two kids play.

“Rose loves Thomas, you know. Every day she’ll come home with some story about some shenanigan she pulled with him. He takes after you.”

“Thank you. And Rose is an absolute delight to teach.” “Really?” “Yeah.” “That’s great.”

They sat there for a while, just looking at each other and talking about nothing.

Everything had changed and yet, their conversation felt as if they had never lost contact with each other.

“Well, look at the time. I better get going, don’t want Rose to go to bed late and be sleepy for her second day of school!” Y/N stood up.

For a second, Shawn debated whether he should hug her goodbye or not. Who was he kidding, he couldn’t, they were good as strangers now. And that hurt him to think that.

“’Course. And don’t you worry about that, there’s a scheduled naptime for the kids tomorrow after lunch.” He smiled.

Y/N rolled her eyes.

“So lucky! I could’ve done with some scheduled naps when we were at school.”

Shawn chuckled. A vague image of Y/N laying on top of him, in nothing but underwear and a flannel, fast asleep, flashed across his mind.

“Rosie! We gotta get going hun.”

“I’m- I’m not even ti-i-ired.” She yawned. Y/N kissed her cheek laughing.

“Sure, you aren’t. Bye Thomas! It was really nice seeing you again, Shawn.” She waved.

“As for me. Oh! Will you come to the end of summer barbecue? I’m grilling.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll look out for it in the school newsletter?”

Shawn would’ve given her his number, but nodded.

“Rose’s mommy is pretty.” Thomas said, once the two girls were out of earshot.

Shawn laughed.

“She is.”

The rest of the week passed very quickly. Although Y/N and Shawn didn’t see each other, they were all they thought about.

Y/N sat at her desk, fiddling with her glasses. Why did she feel all jittery at the thought of Shawn? Her mind wandered about, thinking of how nice he looked. He was always cute, when they were in university he was already very good-looking. But now? Oh my fucking lord. He was a man. Y/N shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, feeling herself get all warm.

She stood up, checked the clock and walked over to her next patient.

“Hi, how are you?” She smiled cheerily to the squinty-eyed old man in clear need of glasses.

Shawn sat at his own desk, eyes skimming over some exam sheets. The kids were currently playing (2nd grade was definitely a tough year) and he decided to take this time to try to sort out which examinations would be appropriate to give his students in the near future.

His eyes stayed unfocused on the text before him though. Instead, images of Y/N flowed through his mind. Man, he hadn’t seen her in years. She was beautiful when they were together in university, but now. God. She still had that youth glow and shine to her, but everything seemed to have matured, grown sharper. She was a woman now. He smiled to himself. He was really proud of her.

“What if, Shawn, what if I don’t make it?”

Shawn looked down at her, who was laying on his lap. He continued running his fingers through her hair, but turned the TV down.

“What do you mean, not make it?”

“You know. What if I fail at like, life? What if I don’t finish this degree, and then like become a secretary?

“Listen. You are the brightest person I know, Y/N. Seriously. You’re so fucking smart, sometimes I just look at you and go «What the fuck?»”

Y/N smiled, and Shawn’s hand stroked her cheek.

“Thanks.�� Y/N kissed his hand.

Boy, have they come a long way. Shawn went pink, thinking about what happened after that little conversation they had. How Y/N trailed kisses a little further up his arm, then to his neck; Shawn shifted in his seat and focused on what was in front of him.

“Mr. Mendes, can I go to the bathroom?”

Friday rolled around the corner in a flash and before he knew it, he was out in the school yard holding a ladder still while Amanda attached big helium balloons onto the huge banner that said, “Welcome back to school”. He watched Rose and Thomas fast at work in the sandbox, constructing what weirdly looked like a temple.

“Enjoying the view?” Amanda teased.

Shawn looked back at her.

“Wha-oh um. Haha.” He frowned to himself.

“So, why didn’t you call me this week?” She said, hopping off the ladder.

“Oh um.” Shawn scratched the back of his neck. “Thomas, was sick.”

“Oh no!” She looked over his shoulder to see Thomas running full speed toward them.

“Yeha, he made um a fast recovery.” Shawn reddened. He turned around. “Hey buddy!”

“Hi daddy. I’m hungry, when are we eating?”

“Uuum.” Shawn checked his watch. It was 4:30. “Can you wait another half hour?”

Thomas nodded. Rose appeared at his side.

“Hi Mr. Mendes!”

“Hi Rose! Your mom thinking about swinging by?”

“Yeah I think so!”

And with that, the two kids ran off to help themselves to lemonade at the drink table that Amanda had unnoticeably went to go help out at. Shawn cleared his throat and took the ladder back to the storage room.

What the hell was Y/N doing to him? He didn’t expect them to get back together anything, so why was he getting so nervous and excited each time the prospect of seeing her came about? He glanced at himself in the mirror. Somewhere deep down wanted Y/N to look at him though. He wanted to catch her staring, so he can see her cute blush. And with that, he unbuttoned a button on his grey shirt.

Y/N threw her purse over her shoulder and fumbled in it for her keys.

“Bye Gina!” She waved at her assistant, who lowered her glasses.

“You’re out early.”

Y/N leaned over the counter, smiling.

“Gotta go to my daughter’s school barbecue thing.”

“Ooh nice! You’re going to get tipsy on the free sangria for the parents, huh?”

“Maybe.” Y/N drummed her fingers on the desktop happily before walking out into the parking lot and hopping into her car.

Getting into her house, she ran up the stairs to her closet. Picking out an outfit she hadn’t worn since she became a mother, she looked at herself in the mirror.

Then sighed. What in the world was she doing? She was wearing a body suit with cut outs at her waist and shorts that Katy Perry sang about in “California Girls”.

“I’m way too fucking old for this.” She muttered to herself, taking off the ridiculous outfit.

Why was she so preoccupied about how she looked? She never gave a shit about her appearance. Hell, most of her life was spent in sweatpants, although that still attracted men’s attention..

It was Shawn. The back of her mind wanted to look good for him, wanted to see his gaze linger a little bit on her..

She checked her phone, 4:30. Slipping a simple black maxi dress on, she made her way to the school.

Man, she felt like a teenager again.

It was a very pleasant evening. The air was warm, and a calm breeze carried it to wrap it around everyone’s shoulders like a cozy blanket. The sky was still sunny, but everyone knew that soon the sun would be setting much sooner. It was a quarter past five, and Shawn stood at the grills along with the gym teacher and were working on burger patties, hotdogs, corn and vegetable skewers (Shawn knew those would be untouched, but maybe he could bribe the children to eat them with dessert.)

Y/N had arrived fifteen minutes before they got the grills started and chatted merrily with Shawn. It only took them those few minutes to warm up and shake the formalities away. If anyone saw them now, they would indeed believe that they were once best friends in university. Not lovers though, because the two tried their best to keep their eyes to themselves.

But it was so hard to. Shawn forgot how good Y/N looked in dresses. And the one she was wearing highlighted every part of her, but flowed in the wind so she looked effortlessly beautiful. It was always like that with her. She never really had to try and Shawn would find her mesmerising.

And Y/N couldn’t really stop the pinkening of her cheeks. They laughed, teased each other slightly (friendly banter you know, nothing more), occasionally bumped shoulders.

Now, Adam the gym teacher had gone to chat with the other adults and Y/N stood beside Shawn, cooking her half of the grill.

“You know I hate the stereotype that only men can barbecue. Like, do you know what bomb-ass chefs women are?” Y/N said, flipping nimbly the corn on the cob to leave pretty, checkered black but not burnt sear marks.

“So are we not going to address that lonely sausage on the ground you dropped?” Shawn rose his eyebrow at her, clicking his tongs.

“I was distracted! Too busy fake-laughing at your terrible dad joke.”

“Suure. That laugh was genuine.”

Y/N eyed the drinks table, which did not go unnoticed by Shawn.

“Wondering if there’s some spiked punch over there for the parents and teachers?”

“Ooh, you read my mind, Mendes.”

“See you’re still a booze fanatic.”

“Hey, alcohol is a mom’s best friend. In moderation of course.”

As if on cue, Rose and Thomas came up to them with their ketchup smeared paper plates.

Y/N looked at the two children. Shawn watched her expression, one of pure adoration. He remembered once being on the receiving end of that look.

“What’s up guys?” Y/N chirped.

“Can we have dessert?” Rose beamed.

“Did you have a bit of veggies?” Y/N raised her eyebrows.

Rose looked up at the sky, shuffling her feet.

“Yes.” Thomas said.

“Gimme your plates, both of you, ya naughty kids.” Y/N teased, putting a vegetable skewer on each of their plates.

To Shawn’s surprise, Thomas ate it along with Rose. Normally, he had to hide it in dishes like smoothies or blend it into homemade pasta dough, so that his son would get his daily dose of vegetables.

Then, the two ran off to help themselves to sweets at another table.

“Well, I think all the kids have eaten. We can probably start now.” Shawn said, waving at the parents.

“Mhmm, I’ve been eyeing everything since the start of this thing.” Y/N said, helping herself to a hotdog and corn. “Ketchup?” She said, holding up the bottle.

“Oh yeah, thank you.” Shawn said, holding his plate to her so she can apply ketchup on his burger.

Y/N slipped the lid open, a bit of the condiment slipping onto her finger, then added a nice layer of it onto Shawn’s food. Closing the lid with her middle unstained finger, she set it down and sucked her index clean.

Shawn felt warm once again, vague memories of what her mouth can do crossing his mind.

They loaded their plates and went to take a seat at a picnic table where sat the principal, the secretary Amanda and a couple other parents.

They sat beside each other, chatting casually with the others. Their elbows touched lightly every so often, whether it was when they were using their knives and forks, or when Y/N would move her arm to tuck her hair behind her ear, or when they both rested their elbows on the table to listen to the conversation and Y/N’s right would coincidentally touch Shawn’s left.

“Ooh, I completely forgot about the drinks table. Want anything?” Y/N said gently, getting up.

“Yes please, thanks!” Shawn watched her walk away.

He was about to half-shout to her that he wanted a margarita, but seeing her pick up the jug with limes, he trusted that she knew his favourite summer drink.

“So, Shawn I never got that phone call back from you.” Amanda leaned closer to him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! When are you free, we can go to dinner.” Damn Shawn and his polite Canadian self. But once again, he didn’t know why he was closing himself off to her. She was perfectly okay, nice, pretty.

“I’m free tomorrow night.” She said.

“Cool, I’ll pick you up at 8.” Shawn smiled, his jaw slightly uncomfortable at the not-so-genuine smile he gave. He told himself he was being stupid though, and that whatever tiny, miniscule feeling he had with Y/N was just surprise of having found each other again.

Y/N came back, setting a cup beside his plate.

“Welcome.”

“Thanks.” Shawn chuckled, clinking his cup to hers in cheers before they both downed the contents.

“So, Y/N. It’s so nice seeing you here, you’re like never around school.” Amanda said.

“Oh well, I have a lot of patients, but I try my best.” Y/N answered politely.

“What is you do again?” Amanda said, voice bright.

“I’m an optometrist.” Y/N responded. “And you?”

“I really like your dress, seems expensive.” Amanda complimented, disregarding Y/N’s question back to her.

Y/N laughed. “No no, I got this at Walmart actually. It was on sale, they actually have cool stuff.” She answered.

Amanda didn’t completely hide her distaste. Shawn breathed out, looking around for a way to end this weird one-way passive-aggressive exchange. Lucky for him, and Y/N, Rose came up to her mom, hugging her.

Y/N gladly pulled her up on her lap, and wrapped her arms around her little middle.

“Hi Rosie.” She said, bouncing her slightly on her thigh.

“Rose here, is a model student.” The principal turned around from his conversation once he spotted her.

Y/N looked positively gleeful.

“Ooh, are you Rosie?” She turned her head to look down at her daughter, kissing her temple. Shawn’s heart felt warm, his brain making an “aww” feeling.

“Maybe.” Rose giggled.

Y/N held onto one of her little hands, as the other one reached around her mother’s plate for any food.

“Uh uh uh no, you cannot drink this.” Y/N said, pulling Rose’s arm back.

“Why?” Rose pouted.

“Because I don’t think you will like it.” Y/N laughed.

“But-but how will I know if I never try?”

Y/N looked at her daughter.

“Okay, stick your tongue in, see if you like taste for yourself.”

Rose stuck the tip of her tongue in the liquid, and immediately pulled back, frowning.

“Ew!” She said, making the whole table laugh.

“Told ya.” Y/N said, squeezing her daughter’s side.

“I would personally never feed my kid alcohol.” Amanda whispered to Shawn, and his laughter died down. He glanced sideways at Y/N who thankfully did not hear because she was too enamored with her child on her lap.

“Well, she had like a quarter of a lick, it won’t do anything.” Shawn pointed out.

Four drinks later for Y/N, and one for Shawn; they found themselves in a heated soccer match against their two children. Y/N had kicked off her sandals and was running barefoot, her dress flowing behind her. Thomas had the ball and was blocking her, who was making exaggerated arm movements to make him laugh.

Shawn was covering Rose, who was desperately trying to get to her teammate.

“Pass it!” Rose cried. “Thomas, we can lose to my mom! She’s the worst at soccer.”

Shawn laughed and looked at her, and she took this opportunity to escape and go join Thomas.

“Shit.” Shawn whispered to himself. He jogged up to what seemed like a leg wrestling match, with Rose and Thomas desperately hogging the ball and Y/N wiggling her leg in between them to try and take it away while unable to contain her laughter.

“Shawn come help me!” Y/N said through tears of laughter. If it hadn’t been for the drinks, she still would be in this state. She was a child at heart and had fun in anything.

Thomas had gotten a hold on the ball and began running toward Y/N and Shawn’s empty net. Rose was tugging on the back of her mom’s dress and seized Shawn. The three tumbled forward, knocking Thomas too in the process; all wheezing of laughter. Y/N rolled off Shawn giggling, Thomas picking himself up and dusting off the front of his shirt.

Shawn gave Y/N a hand up and admired her flushed skin.

Thomas stifled a yawn.

“I think it’s time to go home, huh buddy?” Shawn said, giving his son a piggy back ride.

“It’s probably Rose’s bedtime too.” Y/N said, taking Rose’s reaching hand.

“Hey, are you sure you can drive?” Shawn looked over at her.

“Yes..” Y/N giggled.

“You lightweight.” Shawn poked at her.

“Am not! But I can do with a lift.”

This did not go unnoticed by Rose.

“Can we have a sleepover?!” She asked.

“Please?” Thomas pleaded.

“I don’t want to be a bother, Shawn-“

“It’ll be my absolute pleasure. I have an extra bedroom and I think I still have a pair of Rose’s pyjamas in the laundry basket from the last time they hung out I think.”

“Okay then! You sure though, that we won’t be any trouble?” Y/N’s voice turned serious.

“I promise Y/N, you would never be a bother.” Shawn looked into her eyes.

Suddenly the cooling night air turned hot again.

Thomas and Rose were both in his bedroom on the floor in sleeping bags, and were playing a board game. Y/N and Shawn didn’t mind too much because they knew they would probably fall asleep very soon anyway so they let them stay up a little longer.

Y/N had changed into one of Shawn’s sweatpants and t-shirts and was cozied up on the couch with blankets. The pants were a bit loose on her, but she tightened the waist the best she could and the t-shirt looked unbelievingly good on her.

Shawn handed her a mug of tea and joined her on the sofa.

They flicked through old photo albums and reminisced.

“What really happened to us?” Y/N asked him, head resting on the back of the couch.

“Honestly, now that I think of it, I don’t even remember. We just got so busy.”

“Well, I’m happy we bumped into each other again. You were one of the people I got along with the best.” Y/N smiled.

Ten minutes later, sat Shawn with Y/N asleep on the other end of the couch, wishing his night tomorrow could be just another cozy one with Y/N with full of meaningful yet fun conversation and tea, instead of a dinner with Amanda.

Part 2

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x reader #dad!shawn #teacher!shawn

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asoulonfire · 7 years

Text

How to Fight and Make up - a DWC prompt fill

How to Fight and Make up

Pairing: Solas x Isera Lavellan

Rating: General, SFW

For: @dadrunkwriting, @suzumicchi, @for-the-love-of-solas and @talesfromthefade

Thank you all for this great prompt! The first prompt for it from @suzumicchi has been sitting in my message box for a while, because I didn’t have any ideas for it. Then this happened.

So I hope you all enjoy this little bit about Solas and Isera having a fight and then making up and talking about it later.

Solas stopped in the doorway of the school room, staring at the scene before him with something between horrified and confused. Sitting on a ridiculously small chair at the front of the classroom was The Iron Bull. The Ben-Hassrath looked comically huge compared to the children who sat on the floor in front of him. The Qunari was in the middle of a story about some adventure he’d had with his mercenary group, The Chargers. Clearly he was enjoying himself, if his exaggerated arm movements and sound effects were anything to go by. Off to one side stood Isera, a small smile on her face as she watched the proceedings.

“And then,” The Iron Bull said dramatically pausing for effect, “we went into the town where I met this woman who…” He held his hands out in front of himself, beginning to mime a large bosom when a sharp cough stopped him. The Qunari turned to look at Isera, who gave a stern shake of her head. “Ahem… I mean, I met a lovely young lady who was able to give us the information we needed so we could find the giant that was tormenting the area.” Solas rolled his eyes, having an idea of what the Iron Bull edited out.

Just then a little boy raised his hand.

“Toby, do you have a question?” Isera asked the child.

The little boy stood up and nodded. He turned to the Iron Bull and asked in a very serious voice. “Does the Qun make you have horns?”

“Uh…” The Iron Bull stuttered, “No… the Qun doesn’t give me horns. I have horns because I am Kossith. Not everyone who follows the Qun is. Sometimes they are elves or…. “

“But if other people can follow the Qun, why can’t Qunari believe in other things too?” A little girl said standing up.

“One of the Chantry sisters said the Qunari hate everyone. Do you hate us?” a third child said standing up.

The Iron Bull blinked in confusion. “Don’t you kids want to hear about how The Chargers killed a giant?”

“No, Krem already told us about it last week.” the first boy Toby said.

Solas watched as The Iron Bull growled in frustration and Isera chuckled.

“Fine, who has questions about The Qun?” He said sounding less than enthusiastic.

All the children started talking at once.

“One at a time, one question at a time.” Eli, the other teacher said.

Solas slipped into the classroom and stood beside Isera. “Are you going to allow this?” He whispered. It came out sounding much more accusatory than he had meant. He winced to himself as she turned to glare at him, her blue eyes as cold as ice and steel. She nodded towards the door, indicating that they should exit the room. She gave a small wave to Eli to let him know where she was going, and then slipped out. Solas followed closely on her heels.

As soon as she had shut the door behind her, muffling the noise from the classroom, Solas grabbed her arm. “How can you allow this!? How can you let him influence those children with the mental slavery that is The Qun? Would you see them subject to it? Entrapped in lives they have no choices in?”

It wasn’t until Isera yanked her arm out of his grasp and rubbed it slightly that he realized how tightly he had been holding it.

“First,” Isera said, taking a deep breath and speaking in a slow and deadly calm voice, “do not think you can come into my classroom and tell me what I can and cannot teach. I would not let the Chantry do that and I will not let you.” She stopped for a breath before continuing, “Second, how dare you even ask me that. How dare you. You! Of all people! I thought you knew me better. Perhaps it is me that doesn’t know you.”

Her words might as well have been knives, cutting him to ribbons as she spoke. Part of Solas wanted to apologize, to beg her forgiveness. But the part that won out was that of Pride. He started this, he felt to strongly about the evil of the Qun, he could not back down now.

“So why? Why then are you letting a Ben-Hassrath influence your students?” Solas snapped.

“I do not owe you an explanation.” Isera said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Not when you are acting like this.” She turned to go back inside and Solas grabbed her arm again to stop her.

“Do not walk away from me.” Solas growled.

Isera stilled beneath his hand. It was not the stillness of fear or surrender. It was the stillness of a predator, prepared to pounce at any time. Slowly she turned back to look at him. The anger in her eyes and her aura was easily seen and felt. But it was the undercurrent of hurt, of betrayal that stopped Solas cold.

With a gasp he let go of her and took a step back, horrified at his own actions. This was Isera, this was the woman he loved. How had he let himself loose control like this? His mouth opened to try and say something, anything, but no words came out.

Isera’s pursed her lips and with a deep breath, most of her anger left her features. “Solas, I think you should go now. I will come and talk to you this evening.” Without another word she turned around and disappeared behind the door.

Solas didn’t move from where he stood for a long time. He just stared in disbelief and horror at the hand that had grabbed her, as if that would somehow take away the hole inside him that grew with every passing second. Somehow he managed to force himself to move and made his way to the rotunda.

Out of desperation not to succumb to the black thoughts that tugged at his mind, he threw himself into studying the shards that the Inquisitor kept sending back. Though he poured through books and research and experiments, his mind wasn’t fully present, and the results were less than exemplary.

This only fueled his frustration and self-hatred, and as he miscalculated an experiment for the third time that afternoon, he cursed and threw one of the books across the room. It hit the wall with a thud just as the door to the rotunda opened.

“I had hoped that some space would have given you time to cool down…” Isera said as she looked at the book lying open on the floor. Her voice was stretched and thin, almost nervous. Solas couldn’t help but notice that she seemed unsure about meeting his eyes.

“Vhenan,” Solas whispered, standing up and taking a few tentative steps towards her. “Ir abelas… my behaviour was, it was repulsive. Ir abelas, ma vhenan.” He hung his head in shame. That he had let his anger get a hold of him over such a small matter was inexcusable. That he had grabbed at his heart, snarled at her like an animal, he was disgusted with himself.

There were soft steps coming closer and Solas looked up to see Isera standing in front of him, just beyond arm's reach. She sighed and shifted her weight from foot to foot. At first neither of them spoke, they simply stood in front of one another making nervous eye contact.

“Thank you, for the apology.” Isera said finally. “I... I am still upset. But I think we can work through it, together.” She stepped forward and took one of Solas’ hands, her slender fingers wrapping around his calloused ones. Then she pulled him closer to her and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Solas felt the breath rush out of him as she rested her head on his chest, holding him close to her body. He wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her tight to him and buried his face in her hair. It took an effort to hold back the weak cry that wanted to escape his chest, but though he did not make a sound, his aura quivered with his own sadness and self-doubt. Isera’s aura soothed over him, like a warm ray of sun.

“Come, let’s sit down and we can talk about what happened.” Isera said, looking up at him. “I would also like to tell you how the afternoon ended for the children.”

Solas looked down at the warm smile that graced her freckled cheeks and he felt his heart swell. “I imagine that my prediction of children swayed to the Qun was an impossibly exaggerated scenario.”

“Perhaps,” Isera chuckled as the went to sit down on the couch. “Though there was some swaying of opinions, just not the ones you thought.”

Solas raised an eyebrow in query at her as she pulled her legs up under her and snuggled into his side. “Then whose opinion was swayed? Surely not yours?” He asked, his tone tense and uncertain.

“No, not mine,” Isera said. “But I believe that The Iron Bull has a great deal to think about tonight. Children have a way of asking questions that sometimes make you examine yourself more than teach them.”

Solas frowned to himself as he rested a cheek on her hair. “Is that why you allowed them to ask him about the Qun? To aid in his self-examination?”

“No,” Isera replied. “I allowed it for the same reason I allowed the children to ask questions about the Chantry when I had Mother Giselle come and speak to them a few weeks ago. And why I allowed them to ask me questions about the Dalish beliefs. To show them that there are many things and ways to belief. To teach them to see that a different faith does not make someone a bad person. To help them learn to understand one another.”

For a moment Solas didn’t reply. He simply kissed the top of Isera’s red hair and wrapped his arms around her more tightly. “You are so wise, ma vhenan.” He whispered into her hair. “I am sorry that I forgot that today.”

Isera stretched up to press her lips to his for a soft and slow kiss. Solas returned it with all the gentleness he had not shown earlier.

“You know how you can make it up to me?” Isera said as they separated to catch their breath.

“Anything.” Solas replied.

“You can come be our classroom guest next week.” She grinned.

“I...I will think on it .” Solas said slowly. “I am unsure if I am prepared for my beliefs to be questioned so.”

Isera simply smiled and kissed him again. “Oh ma vhenan, no one is prepared for their beliefs to be questions. But how else do we learn?”

#dadrunkwriting #my writing #solas #Isera Lavellan #dragon age #fanfiction

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lilacmoon83 · 7 years

Text

Dreaming Out Loud

Chapter 14:

The Dreamscape

Emma tried to put a smile on her face, as she found herself in the Dreamscape once again. It had been a rough night to say the least. Mary and David had been there for her and she was grateful for that. David had comforted her as much as he could without raising suspicions from those around them. Right now though, Emma needed her parents as badly as ever. But she was torn, for she hated to spoil their happiness they usually enjoyed in the Dreamscape. But her fake smile couldn't fool her parents.

"Emma...honey, what's wrong?" Snow called, as she spotted her daughter. The blonde couldn't hold it back any longer and collapsed into tears, alarming Snow and Charming greatly. They rushed to their daughter and enveloped her in their embrace. Charming cradled her head, as she cried on Snow's shoulder.

"Sweetheart...what's wrong?" Snow asked. Emma sniffed and pulled back from them.

"Do you remember the Huntsman?" she asked, though she knew the answer.

"Of course. He saved our lives and defied the Queen," Charming replied.

"He sacrificed his heart for mine," Snow added.

"Yeah...well in Storybrooke, his name is...was Graham and he was the Sheriff," Emma said.

"Was?" Snow squeaked.

"He remembered, Mom. He got his memories back and then he just...died right there in front of me," Emma cried.

"Oh no...oh honey…" Snow cried, as she cradled her daughter in her arms.

"She did this...didn't she?" Charming asked. Emma nodded.

"I think so. She still had his heart...all this time," she replied.

"It seems like every time I make a little progress, Regina just strikes back and I feel like we take two steps back," Emma confessed.

"Oh Princess...I wish we could be there with you," Charming soothed.

"You will be. She's not going to get away with this," Emma growled.

"No...she's not. I know when things like this happen that it seems like darkness will win. But it won't; it just fools you into thinking it will," he reminded. She nodded and took comfort in her father's words. And for now, she was content to let her parents hold her, as they had all her life in her dreams.

Two days later

As Emma awoke on the morning of the second day since Graham's death, she knew what was ahead of them on that day. The entire town was mourning their Sheriff and was going to be nearly shut down to turn out for his funeral in just a few hours.

Breakfast was meager, as none of them were really very hungry and once they were all ready, they left for the cemetery.

Mary Margaret drove them in her station wagon and they arrived within just a few minutes to what was already a large gathering around the burial site.

Emma took a deep breath and clenched her fist and tried to prepare herself for the emotional roller coaster she was about to embark on. She felt two hands on her shoulder and saw David and Mary flanking her.

"Are you ready?" Mary asked softly. She nodded.

"We're right beside you every step of the way," David added, as she started toward the gathering. David slid his arm around Mary's waist and she leaned into his comforting embrace, as they followed her.

When they arrived at the burial site, to someone paying attention, they would have noticed the positively murderous looks that passed between Regina and Emma. The blonde clenched her fist, wanting nothing more than to lash out at Regina for what she had done. But she couldn't, mostly because no one would believe such wild things could be true; save for a few. And she was the law enforcement in this town now. She had to keep a cool head and show the people that she was more than capable of stepping into Graham's shoes.

The ceremony began and Emma barely heard a word, as a few people spoke and then Mother Superior led them through a prayer. A processional of people proceeded to toss white roses on the casket, except her parents. She noticed they had specifically picked snowdrops. The curse couldn't take everything away, for they were still her mother's favorite. Mary could never quite understand her aversion to roses, even innocently de-thorned white ones, but there was a bone deep urge in her to avoid them at all costs. Now Emma was more determined than ever to break this curse. Only then would everyone know what really happened to Graham. Only then would everyone regain what was taken from them. Only then would they be the family they always should have been. And only then would Regina pay for everything she had done.

They didn't linger too long at the grave site and found themselves following Gold and Belle to the diner for the wake. That was where Regina decided to approach them just outside the diner on Granny's outdoor patio.

"We need to talk, Miss Swan," Regina stated, as she and Sidney approached.

"Do I have a choice?" Emma drawled sarcastically, causing Regina to purse her lips in annoyance.

"This conversation doesn't require any of you," the Mayor hissed.

"Well, I'm going to tell them anyway, so you might as well just spit it out, Mayorzilla," Emma retorted. Regina clenched her teeth and then slowly let out a breath, as her demeanor turned smug.

"I'd like you to meet your new boss," she stated, gesturing to Sidney. Emma frowned.

"What?" she asked.

"I have appointed Sidney Glass as our new Sheriff," she announced.

"A reporter as a Sheriff. There's nothing that could go wrong there," Gold commented sarcastically.

"You can't do that!" Emma exclaimed. Regina smirked.

"I can and I have," she replied.

"I was Graham's deputy. I should succeed him!" Emma protested.

"And I highly question your qualifications," Regina retorted.

"Oh but you hire this guy? Storybrooke's biggest gossip weasel?!" Emma shouted, quickly drawing attention.

"I would watch your temper, deputy," Sidney purred, as his eyes roamed over all of them. It was that exact moment that David remembered exactly where he had seen this individual back in their land. He hadn't put it together at first, for he had never actually seen this man with a body. He was the entity in Regina's magic mirror. The reason that he and Snow had covered every single looking glass in their palace.

"Actually...if two people want the job, there has to be an election, I believe," a voice chimed in and all attention turned to the pretty brunette beside Mr. Gold.

"Excuse me?" Regina hissed and Gold gave her a death glare that would have made most people cringe away.

"I was reading the town charter when David asked me about the old mining tunnels and certain positions in the town leadership must be settled with an election if more than one candidate wants the job. The Mayor actually doesn't have the power to pick one over the other," Belle stated. David hid a smirk by pressing his lips against Mary's hair, disguising it as a kiss. Gold didn't hide his mirth though and chuckled outright.

"Belle is most certainly correct. If both Mr. Glass and Miss Swan want the job, then there must be an election. The people will decide who our new Sheriff will be," Gold agreed. Regina had never missed being able to rip people's hearts out more than at that moment and the look on her face was almost comical. But she managed to keep her composure and her rage remained contained; albeit barely.

"Fine...if it is an election you want, then it is an election you shall have," she purred.

"Then may the best candidate be victorious," Sidney added.

"You should save time then and just let Emma have it," David chimed in.

We're leaving Henry," she snapped angrily, as she stalked off. Henry gave them a sad look and reluctantly followed his furious mother, as Sidney slithered away as well.

"I was sure it was going to happen. I was sure that vein in her neck was going to pop this time," Mary quipped, making them all laugh, even Gold, as they went inside the diner.

Approximately 3 years before the Dark Curse

As Hades returned to the Emerald palace with Zelena, he took a moment to appreciate the decor. Sure, in the Underworld, with magic, he could conjure just about anything. But it was still the Underworld. Not even the finest decor could change that.

Zelena approached the viewing pool

"So your wife is the fairest of them all?" Zelena asked. He smirked.

"That is the term that was coined, centuries ago. It used to make Aphrodite livid, but it is true. I was once infatuated with Persephone and in my angry youth, I abducted her for my own. I knew how much it would piss Zeus off. She may not be his daughter, but he thinks of her as such," Hades explained.

"Hmmm...I always read that she was his daughter," she mentioned. He smirked.

"You can't believe everything in the mortal account of all our exploits. Some of it's true, but a lot of it is highly exaggerated," he said.

"So that part where you...forced Persephone into your bed?" she asked tactlessly. But he took it in stride.

"I was very angry and brazen in my youth. But then she betrayed me with that mortal prince," he hissed.

"I am a mortal," she reminded. He smiled.

"Oh, my you my dear are extraordinary among mortals," he said. She smirked.

"And even though you now want me, you still want to make your current Queen pay for her betrayal," Zelena replied. He smirked.

"I knew you'd understand my need for revenge. Show me this Princess they say is the fairest of them all," he said. Zelena smirked and waved her hand. Her viewing pool rippled and the image of a woman in tattered rags, wearing a hood and carrying a bow, but her back was to them.

"This ragamuffin is the fairest of them all?" he drawled. But that's when she turned and Hades took an audible gasp. It was uncanny and he did a double take. Those raven tresses, that skin white as snow, lips red a rubies, and the eyes. Yes, it was the emerald eyes that gave her away.

"Yes...this is Snow White. She was a princess, until my sister chased her out of her own castle. She wants her head on a spike, so you have that in common," Zelena commented.

"Oh my dear Persephone...I should have known. Only you would name your little halfbreed such a pretentious name," he hissed.

"Thank you Zelena. I must return to the Underworld for a time now. I have a message to get to my right hand. He will be as pleased as I am that we have finally found her," Hades said.

The diner was buzzing with the news that there would soon be an election for Sheriff. Mary and Belle were already deep in conversation about Emma's campaign with Ruby and Granny at the counter, leaving Emma, Gold, David, and Jefferson at a table out of earshot.

"Is that your second basket of onion rings?" Jefferson commented.

"Don't judge me," she warned, as she continued to polish them off.

"Emma...you're going to do great. Anyone that would vote for Sidney Glass needs their head examined," David said.

"Maybe if people weren't cursed...but I'm the outsider here. Not to mention that my past is far from squeaky clean," she replied.

"The people will see that you're the best person for the job," David insisted.

"I hate to rain on your parade, chisel chin, but Regina will play dirty and if that doesn't work, she'll cheat," Jefferson warned. David sighed.

"Then what do you suggest? We can't let Sidney Glass run the Sheriff's department," he said.

"We might have to play dirty in return," Gold muttered. Emma eyed him wearily.

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," she replied.

"Like it or not, in a cursed Storybrooke, Regina still runs this town. The ones that don't follow her blindly will follow her out of fear," Gold said.

"Not to mention that they aren't even questioning why a healthy thirty-year old man just dropped dead. I mean, Regina didn't even invent a plausible cause of death for him. An aneurysm or something. But just plain heart failure...and no one blinks an eye," Jefferson complained.

"They're cursed...so it makes sense. Doesn't Granny have a heart attack like once a year, because Ruby tries to leave and the curse just repeats? No one seems to question that either," Emma commented.

"Guess you have a point," Jefferson agreed.

"So...what do you have in mind to help Emma win?" David asked, steering them back to that topic..

"The less you know the better," Gold stated vaguely, as Belle and Mary returned to the table.

"We think we have a good design for your campaign posters," Mary announced.

"Already?" she asked.

"Absolutely," Belle said, as she looked at Gold.

"Do you think we can go by the print shop on the way home to put in the order?" she asked. He smirked.

"Of course," he agreed.

"Great...then tomorrow we can start putting them up all over town. Will you help me?" Mary asked to David and he responded with a kiss to her cheek.

"Anything for you...and Emma," he agreed.

"I think I'm getting a cavity," Jefferson deadpanned, as Emma got up.

"Where are you going?" Mary asked.

"I think I'm going to head to the station for a while," Emma replied, noticing the worried look on the raven haired beauty's face. So she gave her a small smile.

"I'm fine...I promise. You and David go home and I'll see you later," she assured.

Persephone found herself wandering the town that evening, lost in thought. She had learned a great deal since her arrival, as she watched the cursed citizens of this town. Regina had far less control than she would have thought. It seemed her granddaughter's arrival had pulled on one loose thread and began to unravel her supposed perfect revenge. It was a good thing, but she still worried, for she knew it would make the Queen even more desperate to regain a handle on things. That meant her actions would be unpredictable and there was no telling what horror she had had in the works for her family.

There was Deimos or Damon, as he was known here, to complicate things as well. One attack on her daughter would certainly lead to another and the next one would be even bolder. She knew for certain she had to take some sort of pre-emptive strike against him. But without magic, that wasn't exactly an easy thing to do.

She had gathered one surprising fact though and was shocked to realize her son-in-law was fully awake. The fact that the Queen hadn't noticed yet told that she was still too wrapped up in all her other problems to realize it. But she knew it wouldn't be long.

As she stopped on the street, she saw a light on in the shop and debated the same thing she had all day. That was whether or not to reveal herself to the Dark One. Normally, she wouldn't even entertain such an idea, but she was aware of David's partnership with him and the Hatter. They were working together toward a common goal and perhaps it was time she joined that cause. Making any deal with this man could backfire, but if David was able to get past his dark deeds, then she was willing to entertain the idea as well. After all, many of his actions involved doing such for his lost child. As much as she loathed to admit, they were probably not so different.

So with the decision finally made, the Queen of the Underworld marched toward the shop and ignored the closed sign, as she walked right in. The man behind the counter didn't look surprised by her arrival in the least, which was unnerving to say the least.

"Persephone," he greeted.

"Rumpelstiltskin," she greeted in return.

"I'll admit, I was surprised when I realized you were here," he said.

"Yes...well, I went through twenty-eight years without a glimpse of my sweet Snow. And then, one day, it was like someone flipped a switch and there she was again. I could finally see her again and all her surroundings. And I decided that Zeus' accursed rules weren't going keep me from her any longer," she explained. He smirked.

"I'll admit, I would love to see the tantrum Hades threw when he became aware of your escape," he mentioned. She allowed herself a small smirk.

"If we're lucky, his blue hair lit the rest of him one fire," she joked, as she suddenly became captivated by the unicorn mobile before her.

"If I had to guess, it is Emma's arrival that allowed you to see into Storybrooke," he said. She nodded.

"I knew I had to find a way here when I saw Deimos attack my little snow drop. I do not like to entertain what would have happened had David not been there," she said.

"Then you are aware your son-in-law is awake?" he asked.

"It is the only reason I would come to you. If there is one thing I know about my Snow's husband, it is that he would never do anything to endanger her or Emma. That means you can be trusted...to a point," she replied. He smirked.

"Your son-in-law and I want the same thing. The curse broken and our families back," he stated simply.

"And I want that too. I want to finally know my daughter and I want to destroy Deimos once and for all," she stated in return.

"I hope you have more information than I do then. Because when I gave Snow and Charming the information that he could be killed during the blood moon, it was to eliminate the very real threat he became," he said.

"The threat that you created," she accused.

"Because you told me of the contract Hades had for my second born child if there should ever be one," he countered.

"I did that so no other child would be ripped from their parents like my Snow was from me! And it still happened! Emma was ripped away too by your curse!" she cried.

"The curse was needed so I could find my son," he hissed.

"Do not pretend you would not have done the same if it was Snow that was lost. You just defied Hades and Zeus to come after her," he reminded. She sobered and let the tension ebb away slightly.

"Fighting does not get us anywhere," she stated.

"No...it doesn't," he agreed.

"We must work together," she said.

"I agree, but there are a few things I'd like to know. This dreamscape…" he said.

"Yes...that was me, at Morpheus' request. I have...favor with him and he gifted the dreamscape to my family," she explained.

"And Deimos? Because I went to great lengths to make sure Snow and Charming killed that nuisance. How did he come back from that?" he questioned.

"My...Hades is responsible for that. I can tell you exactly how Deimos was revived," she said, preparing to tell him the tale...

Mary's eyes fluttered open, as their lips parted again. They lay tangled beneath the bedsheets, bathing in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, as he caressed her beautiful face.

"That I'm so happy," she replied and he smiled.

"That's good," he said, but noticed the pensive look on her face.

"Isn't it?" he asked.

"I...I guess I just feel guilty for feeling so happy while Emma is so sad. I mean, I'm sad for Graham too, but not like she is. I think she had feelings for him," she confessed.

"Emma would never begrudge us our happiness," he reminded.

"I know...it just makes me wonder how long it can last. Graham was taken from her. What if you're taken from me?" she fretted.

"Mary…" he started to say.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I keep getting this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach sometimes," she tried to explain.

"Your feelings are never crazy. Tell me," he requested, as he held her close, their bare limbs still entangled beneath the bedclothes.

"Being with you is like something out of a dream, except for the first time that I can remember in my life...I'm awake. You make me happier than I ever dreamed I could be and that's when I get this terrible feeling in my gut that something is going to take you away," she confessed.

"My darling...I wish there was something I could do to convince you that nothing is going to take me away from you," he said, as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Believe me, I wish I could shake these uncertain feelings. Being in your arms helps though," she replied, as she pressed her lips to his.

"Then I'm going to make sure that's where you always are," he replied, as he held her close and she managed to fall asleep against him. He gently stroked her naked back and stared at the ceiling. If Regina had her way, they would be torn apart. He clenched his fist. No...he wouldn't let that happen, not again.

"Never again, my love," he quietly promised, before he finally managed to join her in sleep.

The Dreamscape

In the dreamscape, Snow and Charming spent their time until Emma came by walking together along the well worn, mysterious pathway in this dream world. They didn't know who had created this beautiful place, but outside the residence that served as their home in this place, there was a gorgeous fountain surrounded by a garden alive with flora, especially snow drops and a pathway they had taken many walks together.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"About how we used to walk like this with Emma between us when she was little. I can still hear her laughter when you used to run around and play with her," Snow mentioned.

"And then we would gather her in our arms and tell her stories about our adventures and our friends," he recalled.

"We'd watch her sleep against your chest and then you would hold me while I cried when she faded away, because she awakened before us," she mentioned, as he folded her into his arms.

"I know we are lucky to have this place; that she could have grown up without knowing us at all, but I want to be there for our daughter when she is awake! I want to experience her life and not her dreams! I want to actually wake up with you as we used to," she cried, as he held her.

"And we will, my darling. I promise. Emma will break the curse, I know it. Please have faith," he pleaded. She sniffed.

"I will...listen to me. How selfish am I? We have so much and I wish for more," she lamented.

"You are not selfish. Wanting the things that were stolen from us is not selfish. We can be grateful for what we do have and still want what should rightfully be ours," he reminded, as they saw their beautiful, grown daughter emerge from the mist.

"Emma…" Snow called, as she ran to them, like she had many times as a girl and still did as a woman. They enveloped her in their arms and Charming cradled her head, as he always did.

"I'm okay, Mom," she assured, as she heard her mother sniff.

"But I know how hard today must have been for you and I couldn't be there to hold you through it," Snow cried. Emma saw how broken her mother seemed and decided it was time to share just a little of her life in Storybrooke.

"That's not completely true," she stated. Snow and Charming looked at her expectantly.

"I haven't told you a lot of what's going on in Storybrooke, because I know how hard this is. To be here, but not there for me when I'm so close. But...in Storybrooke, we're friends. I actually live with your counterpart," Emma confessed.

"You do?" she asked. Emma nodded.

"You both were there for me during the funeral. It was exactly the same, but I wasn't alone. I'm not alone anymore," she replied, bringing smiles to their faces.

"That's wonderful…" Snow said, as she suddenly started to fade.

"Snow…" David called. Not enough time had passed for it be morning already.

"I...something's happening. I'm waking up," Snow called, as he disappeared.

"Mom!" Emma called, as David put his hands on her shoulders.

"I'm sure she'll be back soon," he said, as he felt funny too now.

"I think you're waking up too, Dad," Emma said.

"I...I hear your mother...she's crying out…" he said in alarm.

"I think her counterpart is having a nightmare, so it would make sense that yours is waking up," she explained.

"But that would mean…" he started to say, but then faded away. Emma smiled slightly, knowing they would be back.

"It means you're together," she said into the mist.

It was true that Mary never remembered her dreams, but there had always been impressions of something wonderful. She never remembered ever having any nightmares, so it came as a complete surprise when she awoke screaming that she had indeed not only had the most horrible dream, but she remembered every detail with frightening clarity.

"Mary...Mary, it's okay. I'm here...I'm here…" he pleaded, as she broke down sobbing in his arms as soon as she saw his face. He held her hysterical form and slowly rocked her, while rubbing a soothing hand along her back.

"Mary...please talk to me," he pleaded.

"David...oh David…" she cried.

"Shh...I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," he assured, as she finally pulled back and he cupped her tear stained face in his hands.

"It was horrible. I...I was in a strange place and it was like it wasn't me, but it was! I...I had long hair and I was searching for you," she tried to explain, as he listened intently.

"I think...maybe I was injured, because it hurt to walk and then I found you," she said, as the tears started falling again.

"My love…" he said, as he gently cradled her against him.

"You were lying on the floor in a pool of blood...so much blood. I pulled you into my arms and I kissed you...but you wouldn't wake up," she sobbed. He was stunned, as he realized that was not a nightmare, but a memory. And not just any memory, but one of Snow's. He obviously couldn't tell her that and for now, he had to treat it as what she thought it to be. A nightmare.

"Shh...it was only a bad dream, my darling. I'm here and you're in my arms," he reminded, as they settled back into bed. He held her and his soothing hand rubbing her back slowly lulled her back to sleep. He took a moment to think about what this could mean. If Mary was having Snow's memories, then that meant she was starting to remember their lives...didn't it? He could only hope, though he hated that her first memory to surface was such a traumatic one. He contemplated it for a few moments more, before finally joining her in slumber again...

#Snowing #Snowing fanfiction #true love

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