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drjackandmissjo · 4 years ago

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I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you

(but I’ll do what I must for there’s no me without you)

*** Set throughout the course of their 7th and final year at Hogwarts, this story follows Slytherin's finest and one of the only sane members of the House, Blaise Zabini, as he navigates war-torn friendships, school under a dictatorial regime, Death Eaters and, most importantly, his secret relationship with none other than the new leader of the DA, known blood-traitor, Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom.

A sequel to my previous story: Firewhisky on ice, sunset and vine, you’ve ruined my life by not being mine

Chapter 1 --- next chapter

Harry Potter fic masterlist

29th of July 1997

“I have to admit: I enjoyed the film way more than I expected to,” he said once they had left the muggle theatre. The air had become chilly during the time they had spent inside, but neither of them was bothered by that: they were used to colder climates, after all, spending most of the year in Scotland. And for all its spells and constant fires, one thing always must be said about Hogwarts: certain rooms and corners had never seen the light of the sun and they surely behaved as such, even during warm days.

Like the Potions classrooms, while Snape was their Professor. Those dungeon rooms looked and smelled and felt every bit of humidity that came from being so close to the lake and that, even with the countless explosions that Theo and the Fire Kid from Gryffindor caused with each lesson, could never get anything warmed up. A Hungarian Horntail could breathe fire in there for 24 hours straight and it would still be humid and wet and cold.

It was a good thing Professor Slughorn had decided to move the classrooms up on the fourth floor, in rooms full of windows and light. Blaise could have easily gone without having to add to his ever-growing list of worries his skin getting dehydrated with the stained and stale air that circulated down there.

He watched from the corner of his eye Neville nod along to his statement in agreement, before casually running a hand through his hair and messing them up even further. No matter how hard he tried to keep them neat and proper, like his grandmother wanted them to be, the strands appeared to have a life on their own, especially when certain Slytherin hands had free reign in between them whenever they were alone.

Besides, it really wasn’t Blaise’s fault: Neville had decided he wanted to grow them out, instead of cutting them just as his grandmother suggested on the daily, and, much to Blaise’s happiness, now his bangs framed his face divinely, making for a perfect place to leave his hands whenever they were else occupied.

He also enjoyed the way Neville would scoff in pretended annoyance whenever he disarrayed them and then would shake his head in disbelief at his antics, aiding Blaise’s purpose even further.

And, really, who could blame him? If Blaise wasn’t as in love with the dorky plant-head Gryffindor as he already was, he’d fall even harder at the sight of him with his funky tousled hair and puffy lips as he took a bite out of Blaise’s food without asking first.

He had been so glad that day, having bought a muggle camera that worked similarly to a magical one but that was way easier to manage. He had taken dozens of stills of them, never seeming to get enough of Neville’s smiling face and of his own relaxed and happy one. For Salazar’s soul, he had even sent one of the two of them smiling to his mother, after she kept on asking to at least see the young man that had enchanted her son.

She had replied to his letter the following day, with a simple: “Rule number fifty-one: don’t let him go.”

Blaise had never once wanted to disappoint his mother and definitely wouldn’t start now.

“I don’t really like the way it ended, though. The part where J removed K’s memories was a nice touch, but I feel like we didn’t have enough time with neither,” Neville commented, shoving his hands inside his jeans’ pockets as they kept on walking further and further away from the theatre, undoubtedly to stop himself from doing something idiotic like holding Blaise’s hand when there were still people around.

Given the current political and non-political air that permeated both the Wizarding World and Britain, the two young men had decided that it would be best to limit their encounters only to muggle areas in London, although they would still have to maintain a rather low and inconspicuous profile. It had become incredibly easy to be together without raising suspicions, especially with almost an entire school year of experience sneaking around the castle, but they still preferred to be cautious, to hide from both dark wizards and close-minded muggles.

Neville still lived with his grandmother, but she had become less strict during the course of his first week back at home from school and didn’t really bother him with the amount of time he stayed out, as long as he spent the nights at home. Besides, in her own words, they all had ‘bigger problems than teenagers breaking curfew a little bit to meet with their friends.’ Blaise couldn’t believe that he could ever agree with Augusta Longbottom, but he had seen stranger things happen.

Still, when Neville told him, he had been so shocked he had choked on his drink, causing the Gryffindor to laugh at the spectacle he had created with his Cola.

Blaise himself had been invited to spend his vacation at either Malfoy Manor and the Nott’s, both families offering their hospitality and implicit protection, but he had declined immediately under the ruse of a simple: ‘I live with you the whole year, I need my space and I need to breathe proper air that isn’t tainted with your disgusting deodorant.’ While the sentiment itself was true, he did not want to risk being found out with Neville, a known ‘blood traitor’. Not to mention the part of him being a guy. And a Gryffindor.

Blaise wasn’t really certain about which part would get him into more trouble and wasn’t willing to find out anytime soon.

Therefore, he had chosen to stay at his father’s old bachelor apartment in London, while his mother moved back to France, not wanting to be anywhere near the War that was brewing.

He had asked Neville to stay with him as soon as he was done cleaning the place, making it welcoming and a cosy retreat for them, but his adorable boyfriend couldn’t leave his despotic grandmother alone the entire time, especially not now that the waters were rough.

Always the selfless Gryffindor.

They had retorted then in meeting for random dates almost daily, which had been heavenly. Neville would show up at his apartment with Floo Powder, since he hadn’t taken his Apparition Examination yet, and then they’d just walk around muggle London, as if they had no care in the world. They still kept their guards up, checking every corner for danger that could be avoided, but they tried to ignore the Damocles Sword that hung above their necks.

Which had led them to the muggle theatre on more than one occasion. It had been a perfect idea: in the darkened room nobody questioned why they were holding hands or sharing the popcorn; and they wouldn’t risk anyone from the Wizarding World discovering them, those who would cause them troubles too high on their brooms to even look down at something as mundane as a muggle theatre.

They had also gone to muggle museums and parks and bookstores and restaurants, but Blaise loved the privacy the theatres offered, he loved the way Neville would get engrossed in the stories, he loved the way their hands would link together as suspense built on the screen, he loved to discuss the film afterwards and to dissect every aspect that he found interesting.

And he loved Neville, so it was all an added bonus.

There was a small theatre nearby his place that was quiet and seldom fraught and that allowed them to spend their evenings together, with the walk towards it full of the most random topic the pair could come up with and the walk back usually occupied with their thoughts and opinions about the film they had just watched. Neither of them had been too well versed in muggle culture to begin with, but it was very easy to pick up, especially with the way the family-owned theatre would sometimes project well-known and older productions, instead of only showing the recent ones.

It made the muggle spectacle even more fascinating, in Blaise’s eyes.

“It was kind of poetic, like a rite of passage and everything, but I understand what you mean,” Blaise said as they kept on walking, itching to grab Neville’s hand but holding himself back for the time being: they were still under the scrutiny of the public eye, after all. He’d have to wait until they turned two corners and were finally alone in the streets to finally place his hands on his boyfriend’s. With moderation, of course. “I feel like the story isn’t finished, especially with the way they had the doctor become an Agent. I understand that she had had her memory wiped more times than Lockhart, but she seemed fine! I don’t know, that ending left me pretty unsatisfied as well.”

His boyfriend huffed out a laugh at that and began to silently shake his head: “Lockhart got obliviated only once, by his own spell bouncing back from Ron’s broken wand. Compared to him, that doctor got her brain scrambled on the daily. But you’re right, it would have been so much better if she kept her job and was on the loop with the alien stuff.”

“Speaking of Lockhart, I wonder how’s he doing…” Blaise inquired, scratching his neck. It had been over three years since anyone had heard of the famous wizard and pretty much everyone had seemed to have forgotten about him. It was such a mystery for some, his sudden disappearance after his year teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Yet again, pretty much all the students at Hogwarts knew of the curse on that position, which made his absence plausible, but to have such a well renowned and celebrated man vanish into thin air after publishing a controversial book where he told the world he had no memory of who he had ever been, it was more than suspicious.

“At St. Mungo’s, giving out autographs Godric knows what for,” Neville answered his implicit question with nonchalance, “I see him sometimes when I go visit Mum and Dad.”

During the time they had been together, Neville had slowly begun to tell Blaise about what had happened to his family: how they were members of the original Order of the Phoenix, fighting the Dark Lord during the First War; how Dumbledore had suggested they hid as well as the Potters, because of some prophecy that would connect their children with the Dark Lord himself; how, after he was defeated and the Potters were killed, his parents were tracked down by four remaining Death Eaters and tortured to insanity; how they now stayed at St. Mungo’s, without a single memory of their son, completely out of their minds.

Blaise had always been cold and calculative and preferred to keep a rational outlook to the world, but when he saw, for the first time since that new information, Bellatrix Lestrange, at Malfoy Manor, free and enjoying life, his blood had begun to boil. He had never wanted to murder someone as much as he did in that moment, forcing himself to maintain a smile on his face and to pretend like he wasn’t ready to slaughter someone. When he came back home that night after dinner with Draco and his wretched family, he had spent an entire hour in the shower, scrubbing at his skin as if he could erase the memory of that wretched woman, drinking wine and telling them all about the Cruciatus Curse and how useful it could be to a dark wizard. He had kept that piece of information hidden from Neville, even though he had recounted pretty much the entire evening the following day, while his boyfriend attempted to calm him down from his homicidal plans, without truly knowing what had instigated them.

And he would never know, for Blaise would go to any lengths to avoid his sweet and loving boyfriend any pain. He had already suffered too much, in his short life.

“Really, he’s at St. Mungo’s?” Blaise asked, trying to distract himself from those dark thoughts. When he was with Neville, it almost felt as if Death Eaters didn’t exist, as if the Dark Lord hadn’t risen again, as if they weren’t on the verge of War. “I thought the whole ‘Who Am I?’ book was all a plan to disappear after he botched our second year without being bothered and now you tell me that Weasley sent him to the healers and basically deprived the Wizarding World of that perfectly blinding smile?” Neville playfully shoved him to the side with his shoulder, lingering a little in his touch as they kept on walking, just as restless as he was to be behind closed doors and to have their privacy and safety: “Ron didn’t send him anywhere and he got what he deserved,” he commented sheepishly, regarding Blaise with a blinding smile of his own.

And Blaise definitely preferred his boyfriend’s smile, so true and sincere and warm and just perfect, rather than anything their former fraud of a professor had ever shared.

“He spent the entire year pretending he could do shit and leaving me hanging from the ceiling, multiple times, and then, at the first sign that he needed to be a responsible adult, he tried to Obliviate Harry and Ron and leave Ginny down with the Basilisk. They got so lucky that Lockhart took Ron’s wand that still hadn’t been repaired, otherwise they’d all still be down there.” Then, as if in an afterthought, he added: “And don’t worry, he still got that smile,” his face reddened and visible even in the dimly lit street.

“No need being jealous of a man who isn’t even worth the mud under your shoes, Nev,” he teased, enjoying how his boyfriend would stammer embarrassed at being discovered.

“I’m not jealous!” he defended himself, but the crimson on his cheeks spoke of another story.

Blaise itched to cup his cheeks and to feel the warmth of his skin, but they were still in the middle of a street that was fairly illuminated and with people around. Therefore he did the next best thing: returned on a safer conversational path. “Oh, yeah, I remember about Weasley’s wand,” he said, laughing at the memory, “It bounced back that Slug-vomiting charm that was aimed at Draco. We had a blast that day, when he told us the story.” “Glad some of you enjoyed it, with your sick sense of humour,” Neville said, shuffling his hands inside of his pockets as they moved closer and closer to the corner that would lead them to the apartment, “poor Ron had to carry a bucket wherever he went for two days straight!”

Blaise couldn’t help himself: maybe it was the serious way he defended his friend, or maybe it was the image of a tiny second-year Weasley carrying around the entire castle a bucket to throw up slugs in, undoubtedly aided by an equally tiny Saint Potter with a bewildered tiny Grander following suit and reprimanding them both, but he just burst up laughing, his entire body shaking with it as he put his hands over his stomach, to try and regain his composure.

Yet, all thoughts of etiquette were damned as soon as he heard his boyfriend join in, his own laugh bright and pure and just perfect.

And the icing on their cake laid in the fact that they were alone, without anyone watching them, and they could just be themselves. Blaise didn’t hesitate a moment into grabbing Neville’s hand, enjoying the warmth that the Gryffindor radiated. They kept on laughing and holding hands as they walked back to the one place they could call theirs.

They all but ran the few meters that kept them vulnerable, staggering over the stairs as if they were drunk. It was a somehow good paragon, considering how inebriated they were with each other, and Blaise couldn’t stop thinking about how wonderful his life was in that moment. He could just be himself, around Neville, without having to worry about composure or secrets or manners.

When they closed the door behind their backs and stumbled inside of the apartment, they didn’t even open the electrical lights up, too engrossed in making up for the time they hadn’t been allowed to share, close and up in each other’s personal space.

Blaise would’ve been content in simply existing there, in the tiny apartment that once belonged to his late father, with his hands up on his boyfriend’s hair as he worked and worried over Neville’s exposed neck, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt, watching him lean against a wall for support once his legs had given up completely. The outside world didn’t matter anymore, not to him, not when he had Neville’s hands on him. He’d be glad dying there, in his arms, unbothered by the imminent war, by his friends, by their duties.

But reality had to crash down on them at some point.

Neville removed his mouth from his, panting and with his eyes shut, savouring for one more moment their closeness. Blaise studied his face from the short distance, as he always loved doing, recognising his boyfriend’s reluctance to separate. Yet, his duty would win, as it always did, and he would take a step back, trying to recompose himself and running a hand through his hair.

It was long due a haircut, by now, but Blaise was an egoist and wanted the length to stay for a little longer. Besides, when September came, his grandmother would definitely cut it, even against Neville’s will. And Blaise would take whatever he could, when it came to going against Augusta Longbottom.

He hadn’t even met the woman yet and he had already accepted defeat, if it meant keeping Neville in his life. And, while he did not harbour any love for the witch, he was most certain he could keep an amicable front with her, at least, all for Neville’s sake.

That didn’t mean, though, that he didn’t try to stray her grandson into a different path than the one she wanted, at every corner: “Can’t you stay this once?” he asked in a low and sultry voice, fully conscious of what that tone did to his perfect Gryffindor boyfriend, refusing to take a step back and let a single centimetre separate the two of them.

He watched as Neville slowly opened his eyes in the dim light that was filtered by the window from the empty street below. He watched as his throat bobbed as he swallowed, trying to regain his breathing. He watched, powerless, as Neville slipped them over, switching their positions, effectively trapping him against the wall in his arms.

The Gryffindor bent down a little and placed the most chaste and sweet and anticlimactic kiss on Blaise’s lips, driving the Slytherin mad with want and desire, unable to do anything other than comply.

“You know I can’t, flower,” he murmured directly against Blaise’s lips, his own stretching in a wicked smile. Neville Longbottom knew exactly which buttons to press and when to use them all against him: Blaise couldn’t help the shiver that ran over his back at that simple word, still not used to the way the simple pet name made his toes curl and his heart beat out of his chest, nor could he help the sound of appreciation that came out of his throat, and that transformed immediately into one of disappointment as soon as his boyfriend untangled himself from him.

He tried to make some air reach his brain, when Neville stepped back from him once again, leaving him space to breathe and recollect himself while still being infuriatingly close, neither of them wanting to truly part despite their obligations.

“Yes, I unfortunately do…” he answered, still leaning against the wall. He ran his right thumb over his lips, enjoying the way the Gryffindor’s body stiffened at the sight as his eyes tracked the movement. He sometimes still couldn’t believe his luck, especially when Neville looked at him like that, as if he needed all of his strength just to hold back.

Most of the time, Blaise wished he didn’t, yet the knowledge that he was the one to make the apparently timid, placid Schlongbottom, as his friends still believed he was, lose his mind completely was intoxicating. And he lived for those moments and hours when Neville would let go of his composure fully, causing Blaise to follow suit without a single complaint. Because he couldn’t be the farthest from timid or placid, but only he saw that side of him, only he got to enjoy that part of his sweet and amazing boyfriend.

“What are you going to do tomorrow?” Blaise asked almost out of the blue, conscious already of the reply, but wanting to steal some more time alone with the Gryffindor.

He didn’t particularly care that he was abiding by the stereotype that Slytherins were manipulating and tempting, not when Neville would shoot him a blinding but cocky smile as he fired back: “Already missing me?”

“Always.”

“I told you, I’m going to help Luna find a dress for the wedding and Grandma’s organised that family gathering to celebrate my 17th…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck, to try to make his blushing less noticeable. Unfortunately for him, in doing so, he had involuntarily made his shirt rise a little, showing off the skin beneath, and Blaise was not going to let such an opportunity pass: he moved closer and snug his arms around his boyfriend’s midriff, planting his hands in the small of his back. “Remind me again why I can’t crash her party and steal you away?” he asked casually, next to his ear, before he began to worry the earlobe with his teeth.

Neville seemed to be at a loss for words under Blaise’s ministrations, which was entirely his goal, but he eventually did manage to speak again: “Because she doesn’t know about us, since if she did we’ll never hear the end of it ‘cause we were keeping this a secret, and you are a Slytherin and I am a Gryffindor, and because she is not allowing me to invite any friends,” he said, his voice firm and unfaltering, despite the way his hands were holding Blaise close to him, silently begging to keep up with his work.

Not that he was planning to stop anytime soon. Still, some words at the back of his throat itched to be said: “I have a few words I’d like to tell your grandmother and none of them are kind,” Blaise claimed, staring right into Neville’s eyes and wondering how such a stern woman could raise such a loving man. While it was true that she had laid off his back for the time being, she had doubled down on her questions about Neville’s private life: the poor Gryffindor had to retort to lying simply to avoid her finding out about their relationship. It was a good thing that he had quite a vast number of friends and that said friends didn’t interact with his grandmother, because, based on Blaise’s very own experience with pureblood families, everyone knew everything, especially when ‘keeping the lines pure’ was involved and everyone turned out to be related.

For instance, Neville’s white lie for that day’s activity was very simple: “I’m going to play Quidditch with my roommates and we’ll have dinner afterwards.”

When Neville had told him as much, Blaise had exploded into laughter and disbelief. Was it believable for his boyfriend to play Quidditch? Absolutely not, but he shared a dormitory with Weasley, Thomas and Saint Potter, therefore he played by proxy. It would have equally been absurd for his grandmother to and not to believe him, which was what made the lie incredibly clever.

Blaise shook his head as he silently snickered at the fresh memory, still hesitant to remove his hands from his boyfriend’s body: “Anyway, who’s getting married now that we’re almost on the brink of war?” he inquired, truly curious. A wedding in the Wizarding World was a very public event, especially when pureblood families were involved, which they must have been, if Lovegood was invited.

All of his friends still kept on calling her Loony, but he had stopped using that epithet, since he had begun to consider her a friend as well, thanks to their mutual connection to Neville. And she was an excellent friend, both to him and his boyfriend, kind and compassionate and considerate.

He had already begun to wonder about who the couple must have been, considering no one in his circles had mentioned anything, when Neville spoke, making him understand exactly why nobody amongst the purebloods he spent his time around had even known or cared about such a thing: “Bill Weasley, Ron’s eldest brother, and Fleur Delacour.”

“The Triwizard Champion? How did they even meet?” he inquired, now even more curious. He had seen the eldest Weasley only once, at Gringotts, and it was in that moment that he first began to question whether or not he was straight. And, to pair that with Beauxbatons’ champion, well… That must have been a hell of a good looking couple!

“I don’t know,” Neville said, leaning his head against Blaise’s shoulder and looking at him with a soft smile through his eyelashes, “but they’re super cute together, at least that’s what Ginny told me.” “And you haven’t been invited?” His boyfriend shrugged at that, Blaise knew he did not particularly care about mundane events and being into the public eye: “No, from what Ginny told me it’s not going to be that big of a ceremony. Only family, close friends of the couple, and neighbours. Which is why Luna’s going, as well as to spend time with Ginny.”

“That’s a shame you won’t be there,” he commented, running for the umpteenth time that eventing his hands through Neville’s hair, as the other wizard stayed there, merely enjoying his ministration while he tried not to fall asleep. It had happened already once, right before he had to leave, and that incident had prompted his grandmother into a speech about the right of an adolescent Gryffindor to a little bit of rule-breaking. “I bet you would’ve looked dashing in a suit.”

“Jealous, darling? You know you could always look at me in a suit, if you’d just let me borrow one…” “Not a chance, caro. Mine are all tailored to perfection for my body,” he said playfully, moving his head to the side to place a small kiss on Neville’s nose, causing the other wizard to blush and giggle, “Besides, I prefer seeing you without a single stitch.” “Blaise! You can’t just say shit like that!” his boyfriend spluttered, trying to get away from his words as if they had just tickled him. He loved the way Neville would get all cute and embarrassed. His usual tell was the blush that started on his cheeks and spread throughout his body, and that was incredibly adorable. Blaise had tried to see just how farther the colour could spread, but he had been distracted in his path, somehow. “Why not? No one is listening and it’s true!” he had begun to retort, only to be shut up quickly as two lips pressed against his own, soft yet insistent, gentle yet commanding. One thing had to be said about Neville Longbottom and that was how efficient he was at quieting him with a single gesture, whether with a kiss or by simply occupying his mind with the little things he always did, essentially being himself, unfiltered.

It took them less time than usual to resurface for once, mainly because Blaise still wanted to know more about the hot new wizarding couple that could definitely take over the world, if the Dark Lord wouldn’t win.

He desperately prayed he wouldn’t, for countless different reasons.

“When is this marvellous event?” he asked, still refusing to put a single millimetre of space in between them.

“In three days, on the first. Luna’s absolutely on her last chance, looking for the perfect dress that won’t attire Wrackspurts,” he commented, shaking his head. Something inside of Blaise told him that it wasn’t the first nor the second time they went out shopping and, if Lovegood was anything like Pansy, it must have not been an easy task chaperoning. Pansy Parkinson could try on an entire street of boutiques, buy every single item of her size, and still lament she had nothing to wear.

“Why? Wanna meet up? I thought we were going for lunch on the second,” Neville added, pulling him out of the horror of the memory of the first time that witch had discovered French Haute Couture: a tornado would’ve left behind less damage.

“Yeah, I’ve been invited to Draco’s for dinner on the first, with all the others…” he trailed off, remembering exactly what had been discussed the previous night amongst the Death Eaters. It wasn’t unusual for Draco and Theo to invite him over, especially since they both believed he was fully on the Dark Lord’s side but was merely acting precious, never truly giving in. And he couldn’t deny an invitation, otherwise it would have looked suspicious. After all, his friends knew that he was staying all alone in London, away from his family, and that he wasn’t fooling around with anyone, which, in their eyes, meant he had a lot of free time.

Free time that they tried to occupy, not wanting to leave him completely alone. Thankfully, they weren’t overbearing, having him over every couple of days or so, respecting his privacy, but whenever an invitation came, he had to follow through.

Now, he couldn’t exactly tell his friends: “No, I’ll pass on spending time with you, I’m going to go watch muggle entertainment with my Gryffindor boyfriend,” could he?

Luckily for his relationship, though, the invites were rather old fashioned, called days prior, and that left him and Neville plenty of time to organize. The only person in their friend group that liked to show up uninvited or unannounced by an owl was Pansy, but she would’ve stayed in Spain until the mid of August, which meant Blaise could breathe a little without having to worry about her finding out his secret. Draco and Theo were way too busy in their official Death Eater work to even want to hang out with him in the mornings and afternoons anyway.

“What is it, B?” Neville asked, undoubtedly feeling the way his shoulders had tensed from up close. His hold on Blaise became slightly tighter, grounding and real, while still remaining gentle, letting him know that they were alright and, no matter what happened, they’d be okay.

Closing his eyes and leaning against his boyfriend’s shoulder, he began to recount what he had eavesdropped: “When I was at Theo’s last night, his father and his uncle were talking about something that went bad for them the day before, so on the 27th, and how the Dark Lord was more than displeased. All I got were hushed words about a failed kidnapping, I believe, and how the Dark Lord had completely exploded against his followers in anger, even though he had no idea who to even blame and punish. But then his father moved onto a different topic and said that they’d have their victory in a couple of days anyway, that they needed to wait, that they couldn’t lose, that August would be their month of victory. But he didn’t explain what exactly he had meant, without a doubt to keep us ‘children’ in the dark. I couldn’t really understand much, Crabbe had gone off about some bullshit of his and they were speaking in a low voice on the opposite side of the table, but the intent was clear. Something big is about to happen.” “Blaise…”

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, but they don’t fully trust anyone who doesn’t have the Mark. Besides, they consider us children, even Draco doesn’t know much and he let the bloody Death Eaters into Hogwarts! They know he’s loyal, or at least think so, ‘cause he was at some meetings with the Dark Lord himself. Yet they still don’t tell us shit. Not even to Theo, who’s more of a fanatic than a follower. And I am not going to taint my arm with that disgusting thing anytime soon, even if that would help. But it’s so frustrating and…” he continued, still refusing to open his eyes: he knew he should’ve told that story to Neville earlier, but he had got distracted by their date; he knew he should’ve contacted Professor McGonagall, warning her about what was going on and whose side he was on, but he was terrified he’d be intercepted somehow; he knew he was a terrible spy and that his motive was entirely egotistical, fuelled only by his will to keep Neville safe, and he couldn’t do anything about any of that.

War was coming and Blaise Zabini was powerless against it, unable to do anything concrete.

It wasn’t until he felt warm lips on his forehead and felt warm hands on either side of his face, gently holding him together, that he stopped his rambling. He usually wasn’t like this, letting his mind wander and his mouth running to catch up, at least not in front of other people, because it could potentially be dangerous and could bring unwanted questions. “Rule number eighteen: do not blabber, unless you intend to become a thespian and need practice for monologues,” his mother always said and he preferred to maintain a decent amount of control over the words that came out of him, never going into a rampage, unlike Draco did whenever he messed up his hair, yet never appearing bothered by the simple act of speaking, unlike Theo, who favoured monosyllabic replies to everything. His was always a perfect balance, studied to the last detail to make his speeches and his sentences reach the point and the mind of those who lent him their ears.

Rule number nineteen was: “do not fall in love with a thespian unless they’re a muggle actor from Hollywood,” yet Blaise knew he wouldn’t use that rule. Not anymore and hopefully not ever.

Still, of course, as it had become a routine in his life, everything about him became erratic and unpredictable when he was with Neville. He had found himself digress many times and he was always quite shocked when he realised how far he had gone from his initial path, much to his boyfriend’s delight and amusement. “I like seeing you ruffled,” he had admitted once, earning a copy of ‘Advanced Potion Making’ chucked at his head as they both laughed, with Blaise trying to hide his blushing cheeks.

“Blaise, my love, calm down,” Neville whispered softly against his forehead, hugging him closer and managing to reassure him without wearing him down with his own emotions, “I’m sure everything will be fine. The Order probably knows already that something’s about to happen. Besides, McGonagall’s in there as well, she’s not going to let anything happen, bad or not. Everything will be alright and I’ll come here on the second just like we planned to. You gotta trust me.”

He took a deep, steadying breath as he tried to ground himself back again. Neville’s presence helped greatly, as he had already told the other wizard countless times. “I trust you, more than anyone else,” he admitted, staring straight into his brown eyes as if they could hold all of the Universe’s answers, “But promise you won’t jump headfirst if something happens.” “Of course, I’ll stay home with Grandma as much as I can, when I don’t have my powerful Slytherin around to protect me. Besides, I’m pretty sure You Know Who will stay out of her path, she’s almost as scary as McGonagall!” Neville joked, causing Blaise to shake his head: Gryffindor antics were hard to knock off, it seemed. And, even if he was already wildly intimidated by Augusta Longbottom and she might make the Dark Lord reconsider his career path with her umbrella and her hats, theirs was not a topic to take lightly. “Neville, I’m serious.” “I know.”

Blaise scoffed at that and removed himself from their embrace, allowing space in between their bodies to better convey his message: “I know I can’t make you promise me you’ll stay put, ‘cause you won’t. But can you swear to me that you won’t risk your life recklessly?” he asked, unbothered if some of his desperation seeped into his voice. He knew he could let his walls down around his boyfriend, after all. “You mean like a Gryffindor,” came immediately the reply as Neville crossed his arms over his chest, now that he had the space to do so. “Nev…” “Only if you swear on Slytherin himself that as soon as shit starts to go down, you’ll get to safety,” he intercepted him, stopping Blaise before he could go on another tangent about House Values, “I need to know you’ll be careful.” Blaise nodded at that, he could understand the sentiment: of course his boyfriend would want him safe. But times were darkening by the hour and soon neither of them would probably know what safety even meant.

“Let’s make a deal:” he suggested, already knowing that Neville would agree to his plans, even if they were half-assed ideas about sneaking inside of a muggle library just to study and recreate the ambience of Hogwarts’ own, “usually I’m back from Draco’s around midnight. If nothing happens, we’ll just see each other in the morning after, as we planned. But if the world ends, meet me here at midnight. Sneak past your grandmother or stun her, since you won’t have to worry about the Trace by then. But just, come here, please.”

“The world’s not going to end, my love. Not on my watch,” Neville said, holding once again both of his hands in his and placing a soft kiss on his thumbs.

With the Gryffindor, it was all about the soft and subtle touches, the small moments. Blaise had dived into their relationship wanting to keep it hidden to avoid uproar by the entire school, yet he had been surprised when Neville hadn’t complained about their subtlety; he had almost expected the dorky plant-head to be the most PDA-indulging being in their entire school and it had been unexpected, yet not unwelcomed, his quiet way of giving affection, even when they were all alone and safe.

“Thank you, my mighty Gryffindor,” he replied with a flourish, pondering the pros and cons of bowing. On one hand, he’d keep up his theatrics that seemed to amuse Neville to no end, but on the other, he’d have to let go of his boyfriend’s hands, which was something he wasn’t willing to do. Neville, as always, resolved his qualm without a second thought: he playfully shoved Blaise away with a push from his hands, before pulling him back closer and making him crash against his torso. “Besides, it’s not like we’re not going to see each other before then! What did you say we would do again…?” Blaise saw right through his feeble attempt at distraction immediately: “Nope, I’m not going to tell you, it’s a surprise!” he exclaimed, placing a placating kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. He had already planned the entirety of their date since he found out the plant-head wouldn’t be free on his birthday: they’d start the day by having lunch at a Chinese restaurant Neville had particularly enjoyed and then they’d move to visit the Royal Botanic Gardens, allowing for them to spend the entire afternoon and evening there, since he already knew very well that his boyfriend would get distracted with every single leaf. And Blaise loved when Neville got side-tracked to talk about plants, even if he didn’t care about the ‘green things’ himself, so it would be a win-win. “Please, B, you know I don’t really like surprises!” he lamented, but Blaise was adamant on his position. “Mio caro, you’ll have to suffer then.” “You’re so mean to me.” Blaise kissed the tip of his nose once more, giggling at the way it involuntarily twitched under his lips: “Yeah, but you love me nevertheless.” What followed was a bad series of sloppy kisses and giggles shared between them as they walked in tandem next to the fireplace, miraculously avoiding tripping over furniture. They knew it was time for Neville to leave, but they were both incredibly reluctant to let go.

“Goodnight, then,” Blaise said, attempting without any real intent to put some space in between them, and he was almost immediately followed by Neville’s own: “Goodnight,” spoken directly against his lips as he removed his hands from around the Gryffindor’s torso, giving a little push to create some distance in between them. “I love you,” Neville sing-sang as he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, waiting for Blaise’s reply before disappearing into the Network. “I love you too, but go before your grandmother decides to murder me for keeping her grandson away from home all the time!”

And with that, Neville Longbottom had gone back home, leaving Blaise alone in the quiet apartment, his laugh still ringing clearly in his ears against the deafening silence. The place always seemed to lose its warmth as soon as his boyfriend left and so he shrugged on a jumper he had ‘borrowed’ from the Gryffindor, without his knowledge and without any real intent on giving it back.

He was not as naïve as Neville was sometimes, still believing that everything would be alright in spite of all the signs pointing to Hell, but he knew that they would be together even if the world did fall off its axis, and that thought warmed him more than any fire could.

And with that, plus the jumper, he tried to fall asleep, ignoring the way his heart pounded at the uncertainty of his future.

But, of one thing only he was certain: he’d stay by Neville’s side and he’d stay at his, no matter what.

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passionlead · 2 months ago

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"Well I guess I can ask Mammon if he wants some later" she hummed knowing full well she wouldn't eat this all. And if she'd have breakfast tomorrow was hard to say since her eating could be all over the place. Taking a bite of the pancakes humming happily at the taste very much enjoying it.

"Thanks for the food though again it's really nice" she had no idea the King could cook like this. Then again any cooking that was not burned was impressive to her in ways.

" Oh uh.... whoops- " Lucifer is still smiling, but he definitely looks a bit more nervous realizing there were indeed too many for one person. " Now you have plenty to share! " He tries to put a good spin on it. " Or save some for later, tomorrow, whenever you want pancakes you won't be in need. "

#Lights. Camera. Welcome to my life…[Verse 1]#Bewitching Performer…[Dia]

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atinydise · 5 years ago

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Ateez doing a YouTube video with their s/o

❦ Genre: Fluff/Crackhead.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 13k5.

❦ Masterlist.

HONGJOONG - Make-up video

You looked at Hongjoong. He was staring at you as well. Without saying anything. After this long silence, both of you laughed out loud. “Stop staring at me like that!” You ordered him playfully. “But it’s weird! We never did this together!” He giggled. “Yes, true.” You smiled. “Anyway! Hello guys welcome back to my channel! Today as a special guest we have…” You pointed at your boyfriend. “Kim Hongjoong! Yaaay!” “This is weird.” He laughed. “Just say hi idiot.” “Hi guys this is Kim Hongjoong!” He introduced politely. “Today, he will do my make up,” you smiled and clapped enthusiastically. You sat down on the chair you brought and tied your hair on a messy bun. Hongjoong was standing in front of you, choosing a foundation. “It’s going to be terrible.”

“Come on… you’re an idol, you put a lot of make up!” “Yes, but I never did it on myself than imagine on you.” He gulped. Your boyfriend applied carefully the first layer of make-up. “You’re doing pretty good.” After that, he looked for a concealer and an eyeshadow. “Gosh, how many palettes you have?” “Just choose 2 or 3 shades.” You pointed at the peach one. “Okay okay, I think I’m doing well.” He complimented himself. “I’m impatient and scared to see the results.” You laughed. “Stop moving!” He scolded you, “I can’t apply it correctly.” You giggled, seeing your boyfriend so focused, “then don’t be so harsh! I feel like my eyeball will roll on the floor!” Few minutes later, Hongjoong claimed that he was done. “Really? You forgot the lipstick.” “I don’t want to.” You stared at your boyfriend, “why?” “Because when I kiss you it goes on my lips.” You chuckled shyly, “okay I got it. Then can I see the final result?” Hongjoong hide his face on his hands. While you grabbed a mirror. “Oh wow. This is actually really good.” You said surprised. “Ah really?” “Yes! You did pretty good.” You stared at your reflection. “Mission accomplished!” You giggled and turned back to your camera. “Well, I hope you enjoyed the video and hit the like button if you want more videos with this boy.” You pointed again at your boyfriend. “See you in another video!” You waved with Hongjoong.

SEONGHWA - Mukbang video

“Hey hey hey*!” You greeted, waving at the camera. “Are you an Itzy member?” Asked Seonghwa. You looked away, ashamed by his joke. “I’ll cut this part out.” He smiled widely, proud of him. “Hello guys! I hope you’re doing well!” You looked at Seonghwa, “we are here today for a Mukbang** video!” He showed all the food in front of you. “I guess that you’re hungry because you forgot to introduce yourself.” “Oh yeah sorry! I’m Park Seonghwa, Y/N’s boyfriend.” He bowed politely. You giggled softly, “So as I said, we are going to do a Mukbang! Of course, we won’t just eat. Seonghwa will talk about his idol life and why not revealing few secrets?” You glanced at him. “I have no secret.” He replied. “Yes, sure. Liar.” You started. He shook his head. “So, what do you want to eat first?” You asked. “Oh, and yeah! Everything here is spicy guys.” “Nice! Let’s start with Ttoekbokki***.” Both of you started to eat, slightly minding about the spiciness. “So, tell us something about your life?” You initiated. “Hum… it’s a totally different lifestyle that I had before. Thanks to KQ, we have our free weekends, except during promotions, but the week is totally full and exhausting.” He wrapped his arm around you. “So full that I can barely see this cutie.” He pouted. “Yeah true.” You ate a piece of meat. “But there’s good points of course. We go on tour all around the world and we have so much people supporting and loving us unconditionally.” “Yeah,” you added grabbing a piece of chicken this time. “Are you listening to me? You’re only eating!” He laughed. “You talk… I eat.” You replied, your mouth almost full of meat. Seonghwa continued to talk about his career and his dreams, picking food sometimes. “So please continue to support us!” he smiled, thumbs up. “Oh my god… I’m full.” You complained, rubbing your belly. “Of course, you are. You ate 60% of the food here, by yourself!” You stuck your tongue out at him. “Anyway, guys this is the end of this Mukbang with Seonghwa.” You pouted. “But like and subscribe to Y/N’s channel if you want more content like this!” He added. “Wow you’re doing pretty good.” “Why are you surprised? We have a YouTube channel too.” He said. “Oh yes, with your failed ASMR.” You teased him. He started at you, outraged. “How dare you!” “Bye bye!” You waved at the camera.

*Reference to Icy intro by Itzy.

**Mukbang: It’s a YouTube trend from South Korea. It consist to eat loads of food while narrating and interacting with their audience.

***Tteokbokki: is a Korean traditional food which has sticks of rounded rice cake as the main ingredient.

YUNHO - Rate My Outfit

Yunho crawled slowly in front of the camera, showing his big forehead. “You look like a thumb.” You claimed behind him. “A what?” He laughed out loud. “I’m sure they will think about this too.” You giggled. “Introduce the video before I quit!” he teased you. You turned to your camera and claimed. “Hello beautiful people! Today I will do a ‘Rate my outift’ with my boyfriend Yunho.” You clapped at him, happily. “Hello guys!” He waved at the camera. “Are you ready?” “More than ready.” He replied. “Okay let’s go.” You went to your room and wore the first outfit you prepared for the video. It was a casual light and long dress. You added a matched shirt underneath. “Close your eyes!” You placed in front of him, posing a little bit. “Open it now.” “Oh! You’re cute with this. It reminds me our first date. You wore something similar.” “Aw, I’m surprised you remember this.” You smiled cutely. “But rate my outfit.” “7/10, I don’t really like the pattern of the dress. Something else will fits you more.” “Okay…” you said a little bit disappointed. “Then 2nd outfit!” You rushed back to your room to wear a blue pants, a light purple top and white sneakers. “Open your eyes.” You hopped impatiently. Yunho stared at you intensely. “I’ll give it an 8,5/10.” “Better than the first one.” You shrugged. “I would like this outfit a little bit more with heels. You would look so good!” “Oh, why not, I didn’t think about that.” “That’s why I’m here.” He added proudly. “Okay another outfit.” This time, you decided to expose more skin to surprise Yunho. You took a tight black dress slightly opened on the right. You added 3 necklaces to decorate your V-Neck. You hesitated to wear heels but finally you did. “Okay…. Open your eyes on 3…2…1” You stood up in front of him. “Now!” You immediately saw the he was shock. And completely froze. “So?” You turned around. “10/10?” “0/10.” He stood up in front of the camera, blocking the view. “What are you-” “No one except me can see this outfit! You’re exposing too much skin young lady!” “Yunho,” you chuckled. “Thank you for watching this video, it will end earlier than excepted! Bye bye!” He waved at the camera, still hiding your body.

YEOSANG - Ateez Answer MV Reaction

“Hi guys! Here’s another video with a special guest to-” you started. Yeosang stared at you, “This is so cliché.” “Here’s another video with a special and annoying guest: Kang Yeosang!” You introduced your boyfriend. “Hello,” he simply greeted. “Hello? Just hello?” “You already introduced me.” You looked at the camera, “Annoying was the good word I guess.” Yeosang smirked lightly. “Today we are going to react to ATEEZ new comeback!” You shouted happily. “Are you exited?” “Not really. I know I’m handsome.” “Oh my god this boy…” you rolled your eyes. “I’m done with you.” “I know.” He smiled proudly. “Anyway, let’s go!” You played the video and waited impatiently. “You don’t ask me why it’s called Answer?” he paused right away. “Why it’s called Answer?” “I don’t know, let’s go.” He played again. You scoffed, “idiot…” The MV started, you were already immersed by the set. “Who’s this?” You asked when you saw the guy in white. “No idea.” He lied. “Wow San!” You clapped happily. “Shouldn’t you clap only for me?” He asked. “There’s no reaction rules.” You tickled his chin. The music video continued, you were already jamming to Mingi and Hongjoong’s rap verse. “This is so good!” Yeosang nodded, proud of his members. “The choreo! Please! This is awesome!” You claimed at the chorus. Just after that, Yeosang had his part. “Look at my man!” You hyped him. “So gorgeous! Visual for sure!” “I know I know… I snapped.” Both of you were focused on the rest of the MV. You were shock when you saw the scene with the real and fake ATEEZ. “How did they do that?” “No idea, but it’s so cool.” You clapped when the MV ended. “This is a BOP! Guys! I’m so proud of you.” “Thank you. I’m proud of us too.” “And the set, the outfits, the choreography, are just incredible.” “We all did a good job but I’m the best.” You looked away, ignoring your boyfriend, “anyway! I hope y’all loved the video. You should really check out their new MV by yourselves!” “Don’t forget to like and subscribe. And give love to us for this comeback. Love you Atiny!” He made a cute heart in front of the camera. “So cliché,” you giggled.

SAN - FAQ (Frequently asked questions)

“1…2…3” you counted. “Hello everyone!” San and you shouted together. “Here a couple FAQ video!” you started. “With San!” Added your boyfriend. “You were a bunch asking me some question about my relationship with San.” You said. “If you guys don’t know, someone uploaded a video of us while we were on a date.” San claimed happily, “so now that it’s official, we can do this video!” You smiled at your boyfriend, “Yes! Let’s start with the first question.” San grabbed your phone, “Okay, who did the first move and why?” You pointed at him, “completely San. I would never flirt with an idol. Or anyone else.” “To be honest, I noticed her a bunch of times at our fansigns. She was always so happy to see us. One day I slipped my phone number on her album.” “Too much charm for you huh?” You smiled widely at him. “Okay next question.” He ignored you playfully. “Who is the most jealous one?” You stared at him. “Don’t look at me like that because you are the jealous one! I can feel your stare on every girl who’s looking at me.” He laughed. “I hate seeing them looking at him.” You confessed. “Your thoughts on couple outfit?” Asked San, reading the question. “Hum… we never tried yet but we bought the same sneakers last month.” You replied. “How the members reacted when San introduced you?” He read. “They were pretty happy for me.” Replied your boyfriend. “They found Y/N really nice and cool.” You smirked proudly. “Who loves each other the most?” You read the question. Both of you stared at each other. “Both. Or maybe me.” Replied San. “What? No!” You turned around to face him. “You can’t even imagine how I love you.” He whispered, giving you this smile which made you melt every time. “Aaw…” was everything you could say. “This is too cute.” “And it’s the truth.” He grabbed your chin to kiss your cheek. You giggled slightly and focused back on the camera. “On these good words, we will end this video for today!” “We hope you enjoyed this video and if yes, then subscribes and like this video.” Said San thumbs up. “What a pro,” you chuckled.

MINGI - ATEEZ album unboxing video

“Do you want to introduce the video?” You asked your boyfriend, sitting on the couch next to you. “Sure!” he replied enthusiastically. “Hello everyone. We are back today with your favorite YouTuber… and Y/N!” he added. “Why are you rapping?” you teased him. “I don’t!” “I’m kidding big baby.” You pinched his cheeks. “So we are back and for an unboxing video!” You grabbed the album on your shelf. “Say hi to ATEEZ new physical album.” Mingi clapped next to you, “it’s so pretty.” You opened carefully the album, “Wow… this is so cool.” “Let’s go straight to my pictures!” claimed your boyfriend. “No! I want to see other members’ pictures too!” You slapped his hand. “Then look at the photocards.” “No! Why are you so impatient?” You laughed. “I want to see if they chose the best pictures.” He stomped. You turned the pages slowly, looking at every member. “Wow look at Yunho! He looks so good.” You showed at the camera. “Yes, yes…” muttered your boyfriend. You continued until your man’s pictures. “Should we skip your pictures and look at Wooyoung and Jongho?” You teased him. “No!” He almost ripped the photobook of your hand and turned the page. “Look how lucky you have this beautiful boyfriend!” he stared at you, proud of himself. You simply shrugged, “yes I guess.” “Yes I guess? That’s all you have to say?” he looked at you. “I’m kidding.” You laughed out loud. “You’re handsome!” You continued to turn the pages, with Mingi who was claiming that he was the prettiest one. “So, for the photocard… we have…” Mingi drummed on his laps. “Tugutugutugutugu-“ “Mingi!” You giggled. “Really?” He grabbed the photocard. “Kidding, it’s Hongjoong.” “I hate you… you’re always mean with me.” “Love you too Princess.” Mingi pouted, “I’m going to ask KQ to put more photocards of me.” “Sure… anyway, it’s the end of this unboxing video. Like & subscribe for another video like this-” “I won’t comeback because you are bullying me.” He looked away. “Big baby…” you waved at the camera, ignoring him.

WOOYOUNG - Jelly Belly Challenge

“I’m scared…” laughed Wooyoung holding the pack of Jellybeans. “Me too, it’s probably a bad idea.” You said. “Let’s do it,” started Wooyoung. “Hello everyone! Welcome back to my channel! Today we are going to do the Jelly Belly Challenge!” You introduce the topic. “For people who ignore what is it, it’s a game where you can get a good taste as peach or a terrible one as vomit…” he explained disgusted. “Let’s go!” You claimed happily but a bit anxious. “Let’s turn the wheel.” “Not white please, not white.” Prayed Wooyoung. “Green!” You shouted. “Pear or grass… not too bad.” You picked 2 green beans and gave one to your boyfriend. “Ready?” “Not at all.” “Go!” Both of you shoved the bean in your mouth. “PEAR!” You shouted. Wooyoung grabbed the bottle of water in front of him, “grass.” He sipped disgusted. “I forgot how unlucky you were.” You laughed at him. “This is disgusting how did they do that?” he asked. “Okay, the next taste.” “Red one,” he said, looking at the wheel. “Strawberry or dead fish.” “Oh gosh…” Once again you gave a candy to your boyfriend and ate it instantly. “Strawberry!” you danced happily. “Straw-“ his expression changed immediately. “DEAD FISH!” Wooyoung rushed to the trash can off camera. You couldn’t stop laughing at him. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.” He yelled from the bathroom. Sadly for him, you had a dozen of rounds after that. Wooyoung was the one who got the most of terrible taste. “Okay last round: peach or vomit.” You said seriously. Without thinking twice, you ate the bean. Unexpectedly, both of you got: “VOMIT!” Wooyoung spitted the candy on the trash again, drinking water while you ran to the bathroom, probably to throw up for real. “What is this game!” Shouted Wooyoung, drinking your bottle as well. “Are you okay Y/N?” He asked, still disgusted. The only sound he heard was you flushing the toilet. “Well. See you guys in another video! Subscribe-” he almost threw up. “and like! And please don’t play this game!” he warned before turning off the camera.

JONGHO - Playlist of my life

“Hello everyone, welcome back to my channel!” You greeted and waved at the camera. “Today, with Jongho we are going to play, ‘compose the playlist of my life’.” You said. “Y/N is going to give me 6 songs and I’ll tell her if it’s on my ‘On repeat’ playlist.” Added Jongho thumbs up. “I think I’ll fail. I don’t even know Korean songs who aren’t K-pop.” You started. “It’s okay, 6 should be okay.” Reassured Jongho. “Okay then let’s go!” You shouted at the camera. You thought a bit of which songs he was listening to these days, but you couldn’t remember even one. “The Weeknd… Blinding lights?” You tried. “Correct!” He said. “I think this is the only one that I will get.” “Just try come on! The one that I listen to every morning.” He gave you a hint. “CANDY! By Baekhyun!” You shouted. “See! You’re doing good.” He smiled. “This is my all-time songs right now.” “Oh wait! I just thought about this one! Grenade by Bruno Mars.” Jongho crossed his arms, “wrong. But nice try.” “I’m sure there’s an ATEEZ song but which one I don’t know…” you bite your lip. “2nd hint… there’s 2.” “Star 1117.” “Correct.” “Say my name?” You hesitated. “Wrong.” “Oh gosh this is too hard.” “Earlier than Say my name.” He gave you another hint. “OH! Treasure!” you exclaimed. “Correct.” “I should have thought about it.” “2 lasts songs.” He smirked. You stared at the camera, desperately. “I wish you could help me guys, I’m pretty sure Atiny would end this game in 2 minutes.” “You can do it. If you guess the 2 songs before the end of the video, I’ll buy you a Boba.” “Lauv! I like me better!” You guessed immediately. “Correct!” “Okay last one… BTS?” You waited for a hint. “Yes.” “Friends?” “Wrong! But it’s in the same album.” “My time!” You shouted sure of your answer. “Yes!” “Yay!” You stomped happily. “I’ll get a Boba after this hard work,” you said, laying lazily on the couch. “See, this wasn’t so difficult.” He smiled. “You listen a bunch of OST too, but I can’t remember even one title song.” “Shame on you,” he pouted. “Hope you enjoyed this short video guys! If you want more videos like this give us a like and subscribe!” You waved at the camera. “Bye bye!” Jongho made a whole heart with his arms. “So kitschy,” you chuckled.

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mayquita · 5 years ago

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Damn You For Making Me Love You (1/15) - Creep

I can't believe the day is finally here!! I'd like to express my gratitude to the moderators of @captainswanbigbang for creating this event and giving us the opportunity to finish and/or rewrite our previous works. It seems I work better under pressure, only in this way am I able to finish my stories, so thanks again for making it possible.

This is a finished and improved version(I hope) of my previous incomplete work. I included everything that appeared in its predecessor, that's why I decided to keep the same name, but I have also made some minor changes and, above all, I added quite a few more scenes, mostly flashbacks, which I hope have served to get to know the characters better and give them more depth.

This story includes 4 different POVs, Killian, Emma, Liam, and Elsa's. I found it interesting to offer the vision of the relationship between Emma and Killian through other people's eyes. It's not an angsty story, in fact, I had a lot of fun writing some scenes, so I hope you enjoy it.

Beta-Reader: Thank you so much, @ultraluckycatnd I couldn't have asked for a better beta. Thank you for all your effort, your suggestions, your advice and for always being there when I needed you.

Special mention to @saraswans and @onceuponaprincessworld, thank you so much for your perpetual support and for believing in me and in the story.

Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are close friends and co-workers. And both are in love with each other. The problem? They keep their feelings secret not only to the other but also to the rest of their friends. When Elsa, Emma's best friend and Liam, Killian's brother and Emma’s boss find out, they decide to form an alliance and work as a team with a clear goal, to get Emma and Killian to take the next step in their relationship and confess their love for each other.

Rating: M

Word count: ~ 7800 (98k total in 15 chapters)

Also: Ao3 / FFnet

Here we go... I hope you like it :)

Prologue - Creep

Four years ago...

What the hell am I doing here?

I don't belong here.

The Kraken

The bar was located in a bland building, with nothing of interest to make it stand out except its spot near the marina. Even the sign with the name seemed dull and unwelcoming. Emma couldn’t help wrinkling her nose in disapproval while inspecting the facade of the premises carefully. If someone asked her, she would say that her goal was to gather information about the place where she might be working in the future. If she got the job, that is. The reality was a little different, though. She was simply using an excuse to delay the inevitable, reluctant to take the step that would carry her inside.

It wasn’t that she was a picky person in terms of job opportunities. Even without knowing what she would find inside, she was sure that she had worked in worse places. She had her standards, though, and she hadn’t worked her fingers to the bone to get her degree just to end up working in a damn bar.

"I need the money," she whispered to herself in an attempt to convince herself that she was making the right decision. She was the only one to blame for being in this precarious situation, after all. That's what happens when you run away from the person who broke your heart, leaving almost everything behind. Only one suitcase with a few belongings and her camera accompanied her on her escape.

In spite of everything, she should be grateful to have people around who cared about her, like her friend Elsa, who had welcomed her into her home with no questions and asked for nothing in return. That's why she was here today, in front of this building, because she couldn’t live forever under her friend's wing without having anything to contribute. She needed to feel useful.

I may not even be chosen, she thought.

Before deciding to enter, Emma grabbed her phone and looked for the job ad that had brought her here.

We are looking for new candidates to join our crew to help us refloat our ship before it sinks. If you are a creative, passionate person who likes challenges, this could be your opportunity. We only ask you to have knowledge in advertising and social media. If you are interested, contact our Captain for more information.

It was quite imaginative, she gave them that, with all that naval vocabulary being used in a clear reference to the name of the bar. But it also implied that they, the owners, had resorted to a somewhat desperate measure, probably because they were in a precarious position as well. She was not sure yet if that was something favorable to her interests. Anyway, there was only one way to find out.

After taking a deep breath, she opened the door with more determination than she really felt, hoping that maybe this time she would find the opportunity to start again on the right path.

In retrospect, she could say that the first thing that attracted her attention after entering The Kraken was the male figure located on what looked like an improvised stage, guitar in hand. Love at first sight and all that shit, as her friend Anna would say. Actually, that was the second thing that caught her attention. The first thing her eyes caught was the luminosity that radiated throughout the huge room.

Emma had to blink a few times at the unexpected and intense lighting of the bar, something she had not expected from such a place. She only needed a simple look around to discover the source of the illumination: the two walls in the far corner were adorned with huge, picturesque windows that were allowing the light to come streaming in. Her eyes widened with interest when she discovered a kind of gadget connected to what looked like two white curtains that were drawn back at the time.

When you were here before

Couldn't look you in the eye

The melodious voice of the guy in the middle of the stage distracted her momentarily from the inspection; her gaze was immediately drawn towards him.

She wasn't sure if the guy was deliberately ignoring her presence there or if he was so focused on his task that he hadn't even realized that someone was watching him, but at least that gave her a few seconds to appreciate the vision that appeared in front of her.

There was something hypnotic in the way his nimble fingers slid over the guitar strings and in how he was able to modulate his voice, creating a powerful melody that enveloped her immediately, causing the lyrics of the song to also slip from between her lips in a soft hum.

Maybe it was the unusual lighting of the place, or the nerves that reverberated inside her, or it might be the lyrics of the song that seemed to acquire a new meaning when sung in the voice of the stranger. Whatever it was, Emma felt the air charged with electricity as she approached the stage almost without realizing it, as if she was being attracted by a magnet.

It was then that he subtly moved his head, directing his gaze to her while still singing. Emma could swear that time stopped at that moment, while she also remained frozen in her position unable to look away from the bluest eyes she had seen in her entire life.

A shiver ran down her spine when the guy sang the next verse as if he was singing directly to her, his intense eyes never abandoning hers.

You're just like an angel

Your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather

In a beautiful world

Emma shook her head in an attempt to get out of the trance as she pressed her lips together, holding back the humming. At least with the next verse, she came back to reality, suddenly remembering the reason for her presence there and her previous doubts.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.

What the hell am I doing here?

I don't belong here.

She certainly didn't seem to belong there, not with a guy too gorgeous for his own good. Although she wasn't even sure if the man worked there; someone like him around implied distractions that she neither needed nor wanted.

He hadn't spoken any words to her, but still managed to make goosebumps rise all over her skin, not only with his impressive voice but with his enigmatic and piercing gaze and his dark hair falling on his forehead. Even his scruff with a shade of ginger was attractive. It was as if the guy had a danger sign over his head, so her instinct pushed her to turn around and run away from there. She would have done it too if it wasn't for the fact that the guy finally decided to stop singing and addressed her directly.

"It's for the sails."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"The artifact, the one you were looking at before. It's for hoisting the sails."

What the hell was this guy talking about? The confusion was probably written all over her face because he raised an eyebrow while pointing behind her. Her brow furrowed as she turned her head in that direction. "The curtains are meant to emulate the sails of a ship. You know, naval decor and all that stuff."

He had an accent. Of course, he had an accent. Emma hadn't been able to detect it while he sang but just a handful of words had been enough to show it.

Reluctant to look at him again, her gaze focused on the curtains for a few seconds. It was quite creative, she would concede that. Even now that the curtains were raised, she could imagine the effect it would cause with dimmer lighting. The gears of her brain began to work, looking for the possible potential for that design.

"I thought you would like to know, given your apparent interest."

When she turned again she found a disarming smile and a smug expression on his face. As if that were not enough, he also had the audacity to wink at her. Seriously ? Emma would have stood there paralyzed with her mouth hanging open, unable to process what had just happened had it not been for another voice stealing her attention right at that moment. A voice that was addressing her from behind the bar.

"Hello, lass. What can I do for you?" The man who was speaking offered her a kind smile to which she responded with a timid one of her own as she forced her feet to step away from the stage and head toward the bar. The man looked somewhat older than the musician and, although they shared similar features, his hair was curly and his blue gaze less intense. He also sported a warmer expression, much to her relief.

"Uhm, I'm Emma. Emma Swan. I came for the job interview."

The man's face lit up immediately as his smile widened. "Emma Swan, of course. Nice to meet you." He offered his hand before continuing. "Welcome to The Kraken, lass. I'm Liam Jones, one of the owners and The Captain of this fine vessel." He waved his hand to encompass the entire room and then pointed toward the stage, so Emma had no choice but to look there again. "And that scoundrel up there would be my first mate, also known as my little brother, Killian."

"It's younger," the man, Killian, grumbled, a scowling expression on his face. She heard Liam snort behind her and she was going to turn again to focus her attention on him when Killian softened his features immediately, his lips drawing a bright smile and a special sparkle appeared in his gaze. "Pleasure."

He was trouble, she was aware of it. She didn't need trouble in her life. She was looking for a job, not a hot guy who had the ability to make her feel as if she had melted from the force of his penetrating gaze.

"Well, now that the introductions are made, what do you think if we get to business?" Emma had to suppress a sigh of relief when Liam came to her rescue. Yep, business, that's what she was here for.

After one last look at the stage, she turned back to Liam, but before they had time to start talking, a sound coming from the stage caused a chill to run down her spine. The bastard began to sing again.

I wish I was special

You're so fuckin' special

The corners of her lips twisted up as the lyrics of the song seeped deep into her, causing a strange sensation to settle in the pit of her stomach.

She ignored that feeling and focused on Liam's warm smile and the cozy decor that surrounded her. She found herself beginning to envision all the possibilities to boost the business, detecting with a simple glance the huge potential that it hid. Kilian might mean danger, but she had dealt with worse. Yes, she definitely might belong there, at least professionally speaking.

Emma Swan - October 2019, present day

The streets of Boston passed before her eyes at full speed, wrapped in the lights and shadows typical of the night in a big city. When the cab stopped at a red light for what seemed like the millionth time, Emma groaned quietly, unable to hide her displeasure. She could feel Elsa's inquiring gaze directed at her, but showing off her stubbornness, she chose to ignore her while she kept her head turned towards the window.

The trip home had become torture. She couldn’t wait to get to her apartment, lock herself in her bedroom, and bury her head under the pillow. But it seemed like that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. A huff of annoyance escaped between her lips as she cursed inwardly. Damn Irishman! The person who had ruined her night had a proper name. Killian Jones.

At least Elsa, sitting next to her, had the good sense to remain silent. Emma, though, could see from the corner of her eye that her friend kept giving her inquiring glances that also contained a hint of concern. Damn Killian, she repeated to herself as she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the seat.

And to think that the night had started so well, full of expectations... For the first time in what seemed like ages, her boss, Liam Jones, had taken pity on her and Killian and given them the whole weekend off.

She didn't remember anything like that in the four years she had been working for him. Well, there was that weekend, when the three of them went out of town to do some purchasing, when... Don't go there! She stopped that escalation of thoughts before it was too late. Certainly, the memories of that glorious weekend weren't going to help improve her current mood. Even so, she didn't have enough willpower to stop thinking about what had happened just half an hour before…

"It will be a quiet night, I'll manage with only Ruby and Robin. The bar can survive for a couple of days without you. Now, guys, go out and have fun," Liam explained to both she and Killian. He used that condescending, patronizing tone of his, as if he were speaking to his own children.

Any other time, they would have reacted the way they usually did when Liam used that tone, rolling their eyes or raising their eyes to the sky praying for patience. On this occasion, though, they were so surprised by the offer that they simply looked at each other with wide eyes and mouths hanging open, as if they didn't quite believe their luck.

That's how she ended up organizing a girls' Friday night with Elsa and her sister Anna, a night she hoped was full of good music, drinks, and great moments with her two friends.

Everything went well for a while. But then, in a twist of fate, he appeared in the same damn bar they were in. Killian Jones, in all his splendor, with his swagger moves, his devilish grin, and his bright blue eyes with the ability to pierce hearts.

The problem? He wasn't alone.

Their gazes connected for a brief instant, in spite of the crowd around them. Everything else ceased to exist at that moment, at least until her eyes moved to his left. Killian's left arm was placed around the shoulders of a petite brunette. Belle. His friend. HIS FRIEND. His best friend forever, the one he had grown up with was in the city. With him. Fuck!

Emma knew of Belle's existence, of course. She had met Killian shortly after he had traveled from Ireland with his father and brother after his mother passed away. Belle had been their neighbor, the first person to help them adapt to the differences of a strange country for them. Over time, and after their father abandoned them, the two brothers had moved to a new city in search of new opportunities but they had never lost contact with her.

Although Emma would never acknowledge it out loud, she had always been a bit jealous of Belle; not at a sentimental level, but rather at one related to friendship. Belle was the one who shared the memories of a lifetime with the Jones brothers, while she had to settle for those created during the last four years. They were pretty amazing memories, but not enough, not if she compared them to Belle’s.

She had always managed to hide that irrational jealousy, a fairly easy task considering that Belle didn't even live in the same state. She had always been a distant figure for Emma.

Until now.

Today she was here with him, and her thoughts began to spiral, gathering in her mind and gradually clouding her mood. 'Why didn’t Killian tell me anything before? Oh! Is that why Liam gave us the weekend off? So that Killian could hang out with Belle? Isn’t she smiling at him too much? Why does he still have his arm around her shoulders?'

Everything went wrong from that moment. He came to where the women were and introduced them to his friend. All Emma managed to hear was how Belle was addressing her, grateful to finally meet her in person, but she barely paid attention. She didn't mind being rude, she’d have time to regret her behavior later. She was busy putting all her efforts into keeping her face straight enough to hide her inner agitation. He, on the other hand, also acted strangely as he met them, glancing around absently, shifting his weight from foot to foot, hand scratching the back of his ear.

After a few minutes of awkward conversation, Emma just left the bar, alluding that she was tired, with Elsa following on her heels without saying a word while Anna remained there, chatting with Belle and Killian.

Fuck, Fuck! Why on earth had he ended up in the same bar as her? As if there wasn’t an endless amount of bars in the damn city.

Emma came back to reality when she realized that the cab had finally stopped in front of her building. She didn’t even bother to pay, she left the vehicle quickly, thinking that perhaps, if she hurried enough, she could reach her bedroom and lock herself in there, thus preventing Elsa's interrogation.

Luck was not on her side tonight, of course. She lost precious minutes trying to find the keys inside her purse, as a series of curses escaped her mouth. “Where are my damn keys?" she muttered in frustration.

It was then that Emma remembered she had left her keys forgotten inside the apartment, something that didn’t concern her at all at first since Elsa accompanied her. She groaned, smacking her forehead slightly against the door.

How could she be so stupid?

"Were you looking for these?" Elsa arrived at that moment, her hand held up holding her keys and an inquisitive look on her face.

A sigh of resignation escaped her mouth as she stepped aside, allowing Elsa to finally open the door, the possibilities of locking herself in her bedroom without having to give any explanation completely vanished.

Still, she was reluctant to confess. If she had managed to keep the secret of her feelings for... an eternity, why should she give any explanation now? Maybe if she dropped herself on the couch and pretended to fall asleep…

In fact, that was the first thing she did as soon as she entered the apartment and removed her heels. She collapsed on the sofa, covering her face with her right arm.

"Okay, enough. I thought the ride home would calm you down, but it seems like it's not like that, so tell me, what's going on, Emma?" Elsa's soft voice reached her ears but she did not respond at first, remaining in stubborn silence.

Elsa sighed and for a moment Emma thought she would let things be. She was wrong, of course. "Since the night has been ruined, I have a few hours to go, so I'm going to sit right here, right in front of you, and I'll wait for you to stop behaving like a child. I'm an older sister, remember. I know all the tricks."

Emma moaned inwardly, finally giving up and sitting down. "It's nothing, I was just tired,” she mumbled, avoiding her friend's gaze.

"Tired..." Elsa cocked her head slightly as she narrowed her eyes. "You know I'm not buying it, right? Come on, Emma, I know you always keep to yourself how you feel, but I also know this never ends well. So tell me, what's wrong?"

What’s wrong? That's what I want to know, she thought. She wasn’t able —or more like she didn’t want to — put a label on her feelings, at least out loud. Killian was her best friend, for the love of God. Since both of them worked in the same place, they spent most of the time together, either in the bar or in either one’s apartment, or having dinner with Liam... But this situation had caught her off guard and it had served to realize that perhaps she wasn’t going to keep Killian for herself forever. A groan escaped her mouth at the thought of that, though she sealed her lips hastily, unwilling to voice aloud how she felt.

Elsa looked at her expectantly for a few seconds, but seeing that Emma was remaining silent, she sighed again showing her frustration. However, she didn’t give up, much to Emma’s dismay. "Okay, you're not going to talk, so I'll have to figure it out for myself." Her eyes narrowed and her brow wrinkled in thought. "The night was going well, we were having fun, we had just got our drinks..."

Don’t go that way…

"Then we met Killian. We were talking for a while..."

Don’t.

Her eyes widened when she finally realized. "Oh my God! This was all about Killian! But why? Did he say something that bothered you or..."

No, no, go back, go back.

"He wasn't alone... he wasn't alone! This is because of Belle!"

Emma moaned in response, putting her hands on her face.

"Emma..." Her voice softened. "You kept telling me Killian was just a friend, a very close friend, okay, but nothing more."

"It's the truth," she replied, not proud of the unconvincing tone of her voice.

"But you feel something more for him, don’t you?" Elsa insisted in a gentle but firm voice. Emma didn't even bother to answer this time. Her friend took her silence as an admission as she continued on that path. "Since when?"

Since when? Since ever? Since she entered The Kraken for the first time to do a job interview four years ago. Since the first thing she saw when she entered the bar was the hottest man she had ever met playing the guitar and singing. Since she met the deep ocean of his gaze as he continued singing as if he did it just for her... Oh, God ... "For a while," she mumbled.

"For a while," Elsa echoed her words. "You're telling me you've had feelings for Killian for some time, and you're not gonna do anything about it?"

"That’s exactly what I’m saying."

"Oh, Emma, you know that at some point you'll have to open your heart again, right? We're talking about Killian; not all men are like Neal or Walsh.”

The mere mention of their names caused her to flinch, another sign of how broken her heart was still due to those two assholes. As if feeling her discomfort, Elsa approached and sat down beside her, taking her hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I don’t want to risk losing what I have with Killian." The connection she felt with him went far beyond physical attraction. It was something difficult to explain in words, but that connection caused endless sensations swirling inside her. She didn't want those feelings to ever end. "I would rather keep him as a friend than lose him forever."

"But this is affecting you, Emma. Just look at your reaction from tonight. By the way, how could you be jealous of Belle? Besides, he's surrounded by girls all the time, flirting and flattering them. You witness that every day."

"It's not the same," Emma replied in a weak voice, feeling an incipient headache approaching. How could she explain how she felt? "At the end of the day, that's just a role. He doesn’t hook up any of those girls, hasn’t for quite some time anyway. We just close the bar and go home. But today... " She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "It's not just for his friend.” Although she couldn’t deny that for a moment Belle had been a threat. Once again, the feeling of not being enough had made an appearance. “Before he approached us, he looked happy and carefree. He not only had Belle by his side, but he could also have been able to get any of the girls from the bar."

"Maybe he would have chosen you..."

"No." She shook her head firmly. "It's... I didn’t expect to see him there, even less to see him accompanied by a woman, but everything is going to return to normal. It's the best thing for us.” She tried to convince herself, stubbornly ignoring Elsa's hopeful gaze. She wasn’t going to risk their friendship...

Damn it! She was so fucked up.

Killian Jones - October 2019, present day

What a weird night!

Not only the night, actually. A strange sensation had accompanied him throughout the day. It was as if, after his brother had given them the whole weekend off, he didn't know what to do with that unexpected free time, apart from lying on the couch with Netflix as his only companion. Especially when he couldn't count on Emma as a source of entertainment either since she had decided to spend a girls' night with her friends.

But in a matter of minutes, everything had taken an unexpected turn. His childhood friend, Belle, had called by surprise for a brief visit. She would be in the city for less than a day, but had the afternoon off, so Killian quickly formulated an improvised plan.

That's how he'd ended up in the same bloody bar Emma had come to. Seriously, what were the odds? Of course, he blamed himself for having flatly refused to take Belle to The Kraken. — It's my free night, love. The last thing I want is to spend the evening in the same place as always. I know you want to see Liam, but he will be with you at the airport tomorrow .—

"Killian? Are you sure you're okay?"

Belle’s voice, coming from beside him, took him out of his reverie. He cleared his throat before answering. "Sure, love, just tired." He felt Belle's gaze scrutinizing him, but she just nodded without adding anything else.

They continued walking in silence, his hands in the pockets of his jeans and Belle's arm hanging from the hollow formed by his arm. It was a warm night, despite being in early October, so they had decided to walk back to the hotel where Belle was staying.

For a few minutes, he tried to focus on anything, the weather, Belle, the sounds of the street, but all his thoughts invariably ended up with one name that night. Emma Swan. So, despite the momentary interruption, his mind bent to remind him again and again of the situation he had lived merely an hour earlier.

The choice of the bar had been totally random. It turned out to be the closest to the hotel where Belle was staying. But luck wasn’t on his side that night, or maybe it was because, within minutes of entering the bloody bar, a vision appeared before his eyes. A vision that was becoming his downfall. Emma Swan.

The person he had been secretly in love with for four years was right in front of his eyes.

It was a pleasant surprise since he was so used to seeing her every day that, although he could not be happier to have a free Friday night, the possibility of not seeing Emma for a whole day was not so appealing.

At least he had been lucky enough to notice Emma before she realized his presence there, which implied that he would be able to put into practice one of his favorite hobbies, observe Emma while she wasn't looking.

No, he wasn't a stalker, but he enjoyed those little moments, such as seeing Emma with a wrinkle of concentration across her brow as she edited photographs, sitting in her favorite corner of the bar. Or watching how she got into the role of a tough lass when one of the customers tried to go too far with her. He also enjoyed hearing how she hummed his songs when she believed he was not listening. Or watching as she slept, unable to stay awake on one of their Netflix nights.

He treasured those little moments as something precious, something that made Emma more real, but that at the same time served as a reminder that those moments were the most he was going to get from her. She was seemingly unreachable.

What he saw at that moment took his breath away. She was impressive that night. Not only did she look sexier than ever, but her eyes glowed in a special way, and her carefree smile did nothing to placate his agitation. When their gazes finally met through the crowd, it was as if everything else ceased to exist. At least for a few seconds.

He then approached her and the spell broke.

The smile faded from her lips the moment he met her and introduced her to Belle. From there she began to act quite strangely, avoiding his glance, answering with monosyllables, becoming even a little rude to Belle. Why did she act like that? Was it because of him? They had talked in the morning and everything was normal. What was it then?

A feeling of unease settled in the pit of his stomach, something unusual in reference to Emma. His relationship with her had always been easy; they shared such a special connection. Unfortunately, that connection didn’t help him tonight, because he not only seemed unable to understand her strange attitude, but he himself began to act strangely.

After the first few minutes of awkward conversation, an idea began to settle in his head. Emma might feel uncomfortable about his unexpected appearance because she was looking for something different that night. Maybe a one-night stand... The mere idea made him feel sick to his stomach. When was the last time she...? No, he didn't even want to remember it.

For his luck or misfortune, Emma excused herself after only a few minutes, alluding to the fact that she was tired and saying goodbye with just a nod. Elsa, her friend, followed her, not before giving both him and her sister an apologetic look.

Anna stayed with them for a few more minutes, but then she also left with the excuse that she was going to meet her boyfriend Kristoff in a nearby bar now that the girls’ night had been ruined. In a matter of a few minutes, he found himself alone again with Belle and with the endless troubled thoughts that had begun to gather in his head.

“Killian?”

Belle's voice brought him back to reality again, noticing then that they had just reached the hotel entrance. Killian scratched behind his ear, casting an apologetic glance towards his friend. "My apologies, love. I got a bit distracted."

"Oh, I can see that." Belle crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head slightly, her eyes filled with curiosity. "Now, are you going to tell me what's happening?"

Killian swallowed, averting his gaze and directing it toward his feet. His feelings for Emma were something only he knew and he had every intention of keeping that fact hidden. That made things easier. "I don’t know what you're talking about, love," he mumbled, keeping his gaze on his feet.

“Oh, please.” He didn't even need to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes. “You've been acting strange from the very moment we met Emma. It was an awkward moment there at the bar, not just for you, but for her as well.”

"Ah, about that. I apologize on her behalf. Emma ..." Why was it suddenly difficult for him to even pronounce her name? He let out a deep exhale while rubbing his eyes before turning his gaze back to Belle. "She doesn’t act that way normally."

"You don't need to apologize." Belle stared at him for a few seconds before continuing. "She's not just a friend anymore, is she?"

“I don’t know what you are talking about, love." He plastered a fake smile on his face before continuing. "Emma is my friend, that's all." He was not lying actually. They were just friends, though all the fibers of his being craved for something else.

Belle held his gaze for a few seconds longer, as if she wanted to go through his armor and reach his secrets. Finally, she sighed, giving up. "Whatever you say, but you should talk to her at some point. There was a weird tension there. Whatever it is, you should fix it." She raised her index finger in warning.

"It's Liam's fault. He makes us work so hard that when we find ourselves with so much unexpected free time, we don’t know how to act. We’re not used to it." Killian tried to lighten the mood with an ingenious comment that would divert attention.

"Oh, of course, blame your brother. He's such a slaver." She rolled her eyes again as she let out a snort. But then her gaze softened, her hand caressing his arm gently. "You know it's time to move on, right?"

A lump in his throat kept him from speaking for a few seconds. He nodded, the corners of his lips pulled up in a small smile. If only she knew that he had already decided to move on for some time... But the fear of losing Emma had him paralyzed. He was unable to consider taking their relationship a step further. At least not until Emma was ready. And as it was currently with their situation, that didn’t seem to be happening any time soon. But he preferred to have what they shared now than to have absolutely nothing.

"Talk to her, or to your brother," she asked, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Have a safe flight, Belle. We’ll talk soon."

After saying goodbye to his friend with the promise of seeing her soon, Killian was reluctant to go home. The image of Emma in that ethereal dress and that dazzling smile didn’t stop tormenting him. The fact that her smile had turned into almost a grimace when she noticed him didn’t allow him to think of anything else.

The restlessness and confusion that he felt, far from appeasing him, had settled in his stomach. He had to do something to distract his mind. That's how he ended up at The Kraken, with the full intention that music and rum would cloud his senses enough to get Emma out of his system, at least for a while.

Liam noticed him the moment he entered through The Kraken's door despite the crowd, showing off his sixth sense towards him. Fortunately, he was serving some other customers, so Killian was spared the inquisitive glances of his brother.

He chose the bar area farthest from Liam and collapsed on one of the stools. He would have preferred if one of the two new bartenders were to serve him; they would have treated him as one more customer. But it was Robin, one of their oldest bartenders, the one in charge of that section of the bar, so he had no choice but to resign himself while waving his hand to get his attention.

"You look like shit, mate," Robin said while putting a shot of rum in front of him. At least he didn't need to even bother talking, his friend already knew his favorite poison. "And what the hell are you doing here on your night off?"

"Missed me?" he wiggled his eyebrows before schooling his features so as not to betray his inner turmoil.

"Actually I miss Emma, she's much nicer than you."

The fake smile faded from his face at the mere mention of her name. Luckily for him, Fridays were a busy night at The Kraken, so Robin’s attention was required by another customer, leaving him finally alone with his thoughts and his rum.

He brought the glass to his lips, letting the amber liquid slide down his throat, feeling the pleasant burn on its way to his stomach. Only when alcohol entered his system did he feel the courage to take the phone out of his pocket. He wondered if it would be a good idea to contact Emma, his fingers sliding across the screen without ever pressing Emma's name. After a moment of hesitation, he finally decided. He couldn’t leave things like this.

Did I do something tonight to bother you? - KJ

Emma answered instantly, to his pleasant surprise.

Hey! No more than usual. ;p Why do you ask? - ES

A sigh of relief escaped his mouth, not just by her words but by the inclusion of that emoji. It was amazing how two simple characters could conceal so much meaning.

You acted strange tonight - KJ

No more than you... I was just tired - ES

Aye, me too - KJ

By the way, I'd like to apologize to Belle. I acted like an asshole to her. - ES

Nah, it's okay. Are you sure you're fine? - KJ

Promise. And you? - ES

I'm fine too. Ah! You looked stunning tonight, love. - KJ

You were not so bad yourself :) - ES

Any plans for tomorrow? - KJ

Pizza and Netflix? - ES

My apartment or yours? - KJ

Yours. Since Liam will be working, we'll be able to choose freely. - ES

Smart lass. Night Swan. - KJ

Night Killian - ES

A sigh of relief escaped between his lips as he felt a weight removed from him, his lips pulling at a smile as he continued to stare at the screen.

"What are you doing here?" Killian looked up from the phone to find Liam, arms folded across his chest and a scrutinizing look on his face. "I seem to remember that I gave you the night off."

Killian grabbed his glass and raised his hand to Liam as if to toast. He took a sip of the drink before answering. "I'm here as a customer, brother."

At that moment, Liam reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. Killian watched as his brother's brow furrowed as he stared at the screen. He also detected Liam's eyes briefly straying to look slyly at him. A strange sensation washed over him as he stirred uncomfortably in his seat. This couldn’t be good.

Liam carefully placed the phone on the counter and folded his arms over his chest again. "So... what's wrong with Emma?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" His heart tightened into knots as his gaze drifted to Liam's phone. Little traitor. .. he thought. What the hell was he thinking when he decided it was a good idea to come to the bloody bar?

"Enlighten me, little brother."

Killian loved his brother, but he could be a real pain in the ass sometimes, pressing all his weak points until he ended up pissing him off. This time his tolerance level was so low that he only needed a little spark to light the wick of his anger.

He clenched his jaw as he felt a growing rage running through his veins, urging him to act. Out of the corner of his eye, Killian glanced at his brother's phone one last time, and in a swift, fluid movement that left no chance of a reaction from Liam, he seized the device.

Liam's eyes widened in surprise at his brother's maneuver, but then he reacted, grunting as he tried to reach for the phone. "Give me my bloody phone, Killian!"

"Ah, ah!" Killian moved away from the bar, enough so that his brother couldn’t reach him and without further delay read the contents of the last message received.

Hey, Liam! We missed you this evening. I met Emma, at last. But I think something happened between her and Killian. Ask him, it seems that our "bro" has something to tell us. See you tomorrow. - Belle

"Bloody hell." The words slipped out of Killian's mouth without him doing anything to stop it. "She's such a traitorous lass," he hissed, the urge to throw the phone against the nearest wall almost uncontrollable.

Bloody hell... he repeated, this time to himself. He began to feel like a fish out of water, desperately in need of air. Killian had for so long hidden his feelings in front of his brother that he found it extremely difficult to expose them now; especially because he was fully aware that Liam would be excited at first for him, but then he’d feel as if someone threw a jug of cold water on him when he discovered that, whatever Killian felt towards Emma Swan, nothing was going to change their relationship.

Killian returned slowly to his seat, placing Liam's phone on the counter again. He gestured to the bartender on the other side of the bar to get another drink; the idea of confessing his feelings with more alcohol running through his system seemed more appropriate under the circumstances.

"You know it's rude to read private messages from someone else," Liam said to him in that calm, characteristic tone of his, one that was hiding a condescending hue that annoyed Killian enormously.

"Not if that damn message speaks about oneself," he mumbled. Killian didn't care at that moment if he behaved like a rebel teenager in front of his father.

"Have you argued with Emma? What is it this time? Netflix, the choice of dinner?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? Stop treating us like children. I'm not your son and Emma is obviously not your daughter."

"Then act like an adult and tell me what's going on."

"It's nothing. We met Emma in a bar. I don’t know what Belle was talking about."

"Okay." Liam grabbed his phone and began to slide his fingers across the screen.

A sensation of panic settled in the pit of his stomach. "What are you doing?"

"Calling Emma, of course."

"Don't you dare, brother," he hissed, casting a murderous glare at Liam as he again regretted coming here. What on earth was I thinking?

Liam seemed to think better of it because, after staring at him for a few seconds, he sighed and put the phone back on the counter. He then changed his attitude, softening his features as he addressed Killian. "Listen, it's obvious that something is happening. You know I care a lot about Emma. I just need you to tell me if everything's okay with her, brother."

Seeing his brother's face full of sincere concern stirred something inside Killian so, without even stopping to think of what he was doing, he confessed, kind of.

"It's nothing, really. We met her unexpectedly. For some reason, she started acting in an offhand way when she saw us and after a few minutes, she just left. But I texted her a few minutes ago and everything was fine." After a pause, he continued almost without being aware of what he was about to say. "I thought at first that my presence might have bothered her, in case I might be interfering in some way, preventing some guy from approaching her, but it seems she was just tired."

Liam's features changed subtly, as if a flash of realization crossed his face. His eyes widened slightly as one eyebrow rose slightly. "And that would have been a problem for you?"

Killian closed his eyes as he sighed. After two deep breaths, he set out to confess for the first time in four years. "Aye, it would."

Liam's eyes widened even more as a smile began to appear on his face, a smile in which his brother was depositing his relief and his hopes. Something that, unfortunately, Killian would have to cut.

"Before you start to get your hopes up. Yes, I have feelings for Emma. No, I do not think she feels the same, or at least I don’t think she's ready yet to open her heart. So nothing is going to change between us. Emma is my friend and so it will remain until she decides otherwise."

"Does Emma know?"

"About my feelings? Of course not."

After the initial impact of the confession, Liam seemed to react. He shook his head and brushed his eyes with one hand. "How could I know nothing? I mean, I know you care about her, and that you two are very good friends, but how did you manage to hide your feelings from me? I spend most of the damn time with you two!"

Killian ignored him, suddenly exhausted after the events of the day. But before he went home, he had to make sure of something. "Promise me you won’t tell Emma anything."

"Killian..."

"No, just promise me. Let me do this my way."

With a sigh, Liam agreed. "Okay, but promise me something in return. Promise me you'll be careful, okay? You finally have a chance to be happy, brother. Do not miss it, please. And don't hurt her."

The corners of his lips rose slightly at Liam's words. It was no secret that his brother adored Emma in a fraternal sense and that he cared for her almost as much as himself. He couldn't be more grateful that she had such a support group around her.

"Believe me, Liam, that would be the last of my intentions."

His initial idea when he arrived at the bar was to wait for his brother until closing time came and then return home together. But after what happened, he changed his mind. His only desire was to lock himself in his bedroom, bury his head under the pillow, and try to sleep with the vain idea that Emma's image wouldn’t appear in his dreams to torment him.

After finishing his drink, he murmured "I'll see you at home" to his brother while he waved and left the premises.

His walk home meant being alone with his thoughts. Far from vanishing, Emma's vision became even more powerful, filling all his thoughts. His mind was determined to remind him of the image of Emma in that damn dress that molded to all her curves and that neckline that hinted at what was forbidden to him. His body started to react, liquid heat heading straight south. By the time he got home, his pants were tight, a series of curses escaping from his mouth. He was helpless.

Killian reached his bedroom and undressed without bothering to put on his pajamas. He collapsed in bed, the need for release was almost painful so he had no choice but to take care of himself. As the strokes increased in pressure and speed, Emma's image became more real in his mind; her pink lips silently begging to be kissed, her defiant glance, her perfect body. His release came at last as he pronounced her name between pants, imagining that Emma was the one with her hand around his length. Bloody hell...

He was so fucked up.

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Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think :)

What to expect in the next chapter? We'll have another flashback of Emma's early months at the bar and we'll also see Liam's first attempt to push them together.

#cs ff #captain swan #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs au #cs au ff #damn you for making me love you #mayquita writes #my cs writings

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freddiesaysalright · 6 years ago

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Peace Like A River Part 1

A Gwilym Lee x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a stand up comic with a pretty dark past. She has a three new lights in her life: her daughter, Violet; her anonymous correspondent, Dear Friend; and Gwilym Lee.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural @someone-get-a-medic @bensrhapsody @deakyclicks If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I had like the snippet of an idea for this and then needed more for a plot, but I think I’ve finally got it together lol. Hope y’all like it!

Part I here we go!!!

Grinning, you read over the letter once more from backstage. His words in that graceful, loopy handwriting warmed you from your heart to your toes. You sighed contentedly, stuffed the paper into your back pocket for luck, and waited for your cue.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, Y/N Y/L/N!” the host cried.

You shook out the last of your nerves and walked out on the stage, waving and grinning at the huge crowd that stood and applauded for you. You had never done a show for an audience this large and it was both intimidating and exhilarating.

“Thank you!” you said, as you waited for them to stop cheering. “Thank you. Thank you all for coming. Really, I appreciate it because whenever I have to go out and do things, I think about killing myself.”

A nervous titter went through the crowd and you smiled again.

“Seriously, I do. I’ll think about killing myself over nothing. Like, the other day, I was in the car on my way home from the store and my sister called me and asked me to stop by her place and help her and her husband move furniture. And I actually thought ‘If I crashed my car right now and died, I wouldn’t have to go move any fucking furniture.’”

They laughed.

“It’s crazy, I know, but I casually think about it any time I’m even minorly inconvenienced. But what stops me from doing it - like, my next line of thought - is something equally meaningless. Like, in that scenario with my sister, the thing that held me back was like, I thought ‘But fuck, Bohemian Rhapsody is coming out in like two months and I really wanna see that.’”

A couple cheers came through the laughter and you smiled.

“Oh, we got some Queen fans in here tonight?” you said.

More cheers.

“Yeah, cheer, clap, fuck yeah!”

A swell of shouts and whistles went through the crowd and you joined them.

“Fuck yeah, y’all were raised right,” you said when it settled down. “Queen is a great band. Just four sexy dudes making banger after banger. They’re legitimately my favorite band. I’m not gonna lie, they really got me through some shit, but we’ll come back to my trauma later.”

You paused for a small bit of laughter.

“Now normally, I don’t like when comedians talk about Queen. And by that, I mean, I don’t like it when comedians talk about Freddie Mercury,” you said. “And it’s not for some pretentious reason like they’re not real fans or something. It’s literally just that when people joke about Freddie Mercury, they joke about the same two things - his teeth and his sexuality - two extremely fucking boring things to joke about.”

You took a sip of water.

“Not only are they boring, they’re just rude. Like, these are things this man was born with and couldn’t change about himself - he had no control over that. What he did have control over - the fucking ridiculous lyrics of Under Pressure.”

A giggle went through them. You smiled.

“I’m serious. Have any of you ever looked up the lyrics to that song? Most of it doesn’t really bother me, it’s just those weird scat-like shit Freddie does between verses. Like, they have these great, meaningful lines followed by Freddie going ‘Um, bah, bah, bay.’ What the fuck?”

They laughed.

“That shit is in the official lyrics of that legendary song and I think about that every goddamn day. That and fucking ‘dee, dah, day - ok!’ Shit like that is how you know these dudes were on drugs. One of those guys came up with that, pitched it to four other people - if not more - and they all went ‘fuckin genius’ and bam! Under Pressure is one of the greatest hits of all time.”

They laughed harder.

“I guess I’m not as disturbed by that as I am by the fact that the people ate it up like they did. It’s one thing for those guys to say it’s genius, but then for us as the public to say it as well just fucks me up. The first time I heard that song I was like ‘what the cinnamon toast fuck am I listening to?’ Shit was weird.”

You took another drink as they laughed.

“But honestly, I don’t understand why people go for Freddie’s sexuality when there are clearly much more roastable things to talk about. I don’t care how rich and famous he was, if you’re a straight white guy making fun of gay brown guy for being either or both of those things, you’re punching down, dude, and that’s not comedy, that’s just being an asshole.”

For that, they applauded. You continued on through your set, and this audience was great for you. They were responsive and you held their attention throughout. You were almost ready to close the show.

“I always like to end my shows with the most important person in my life,” you said. “I’ve talked about her already tonight, and she’s my daughter, Violet.”

The tech guys put a picture of her up on the projector behind you. You beamed at it.

“That’s her. She’s three years old and she’s my everything. She’s the reason I get on stage and in front of cameras. She’s the real reason I don’t crash my car to get out of moving furniture.”

With one final laugh, you bid them goodnight. You took a little bow at the roar of applause and smiled widely. You said a few more thank yous before the spotlight dimmed and you walked off stage to the sound of cheering and clapping. It never ceased to amaze you how far you had come.

Someone took the mic for you as your assistant approached. She was a recent hire, and something you initially resisted. But now that your name and brand had grown, you really did need the help. Her name was Stacy, and she was incredibly efficient. You liked her, as did Violet, which sold you on hiring her.

“Great show,” she said with a smile. “Vi is asleep in the green room. We’ve got a couple VIP guests for you to meet before we take you both back to the hotel.”

“Alright, lead the way,” you replied.

You followed her to another room backstage where you saw a group of men. Most of them had their back to you, but one face, you recognized. Gwilym Lee, who you considered a friend, even though you hadn’t spoken in a while.

Before you had really thrown yourself into standup, you did a bit of acting. You and Gwilym shot a pilot of a sitcom that unfortunately never aired, but while filming, you had become really close. You even felt like he was flirting with you a few times, but back then you were nowhere near ready to start a new relationship, so you’d kept things strictly platonic. Nowadays, you mostly liked each others pictures on Instagram as your main form of communication. But life was busy for both of you. You were on tour and he had gone on to films.

You started to smile but then froze when the man next to Gwilym turned his head. You grabbed Stacy’s arm harshly.

“Holy shit is that Brian May?” you wondered.

She chuckled. “Yeah! The VIP guests are Queen and the cast of Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Shut the fuck up!” you cried. “Really?!”

“Yep,” she assured you. “Go on in and say hello.”

Your stomach dropped with nerves. Again, you shook yourself free of them and donned your stage personality. Slipping into that mask was where you were most comfortable. While you talked about the things you had endured in your comedy, there it was lighthearted, and you did not have to face it head on. You could throw a joke out and dodge it.

“Well, hello!” you said brightly as you entered the room.

They all turned eyes on you and smiled as you were introduced. Brian May and Roger Taylor were without a doubt the most thrilling to shake hands with, but Rami Malek, Joe Mazzello, and Ben Hardy were also exciting. When it came time to shake hands with Gwilym, you offered a warm, friendly smile.

“It’s great to see you again,” you said. “It’s been two years or so now?”

“Just about,” he replied. “You were wonderful.”

“Thank you!”

“Gwil was the one who convinced us to come tonight,” Joe explained. “He said you were hilarious on set when you filmed before.”

“That’s sweet,” you replied. “It is a shame that show never took off, it was a good one.”

“I certainly loved it,” Gwilym said.

You chatted with them for a bit. They all were calming to be around. Brian and Roger were complimentary of your bit about Under Pressure, which eased some of your nerves about the set. Even though you were, you didn’t feel like you were putting on a show for them. In minutes, it felt like they were your friends.

The door opened shortly after and in walked Stacy, hand in hand with your very sleepy daughter. She clutched her stuffed dog close to her chest as she ran right to you and crawled into you lap. You wrapped your arms around her and held her close, kissing the top of her head. She eyed the guests warily.

“What are you doing awake, sweetie?” you asked gently, stroking her hair.

“She woke up for a little while,” Stacy explained. “I tried to get her back down but all she wanted was Mommy.”

You smiled. “That’s okay. You can have Mommy whenever you want her.”

She snuggled into your chest, turning her face away from the strangers.

“You don’t want to say hello?” you wondered, and she shook her head. You looked at the guys. “Sorry. She’s kinda shy.”

“That’s alright,” said Brian.

“She’s grown up,” Gwilym said. “Last time I saw her, she was just learning to walk.”

“Oh, yeah,” you remembered. “She actually walked right into you during a scene.”

You both chuckled at the memory.

“The director was almost mad, but she was so cute,” he continued.

He knelt down in front of you and gently touched her arm. She turned her face to just barely peek at him.

“Hi, Violet,” he said sweetly, smiling at her. “It’s been a while.”

Her brow furrowed.

“You were still a little baby,” you explained to her. “But you’ve met Gwilym before.”

She relaxed and looked between you and him.

“Daddy?” she questioned.

You stiffened and cleared your throat uncomfortably. Then shook your head.

“No, baby,” you told her. “No Daddy.”

She pouted at you and then hid her face again. You looked apologetically at Gwilym, who shrugged it off. He started to get up, but hesitated to pick something up off the ground. It was your letter that had been in your pocket. He held it out to you.

“Is this yours?” he asked.

You quickly took it, your face flushing with embarrassment. Even though there was no way he knew what it was, you still felt really shy about the whole situation.

“Yeah, thanks,” you said, not meeting his eyes as you stuffed it back into your pocket.

“A letter?” he questioned.

“Just some particularly touching fanmail,” you lied.

“Not enough people write letters anymore in my opinion,” said Roger.

“Why sit and write a letter when you can send a text?” Ben replied. “It’s much faster.”

“Yeah, but I sort of miss the anticipation involved in letter writing,” Brian said in agreement with his bandmate.

You continued to visit with them as Violet slowly fell asleep again against you. For a while, you felt Gwilym’s eyes on you intensely. His expression was odd. It appeared he thought he knew something more about you. It made you shift in your seat a few times before at last, he seemed to let go of whatever question was burning in his mind.

They visited for about another half hour before you really did need to get back to your hotel, and so did they. You said fond farewells to all of them, reassured them that you would see the movie, and then it came to Gwilym.

“We’re in New York for a few days,” he said. “Let me know if you’d like to get coffee or something and catch up.”

“That would be great,” you replied with a smile.

You gave him a side hug since you had Violet on your hip, sleeping soundly. Her stuffed dog slipped from her hand but Gwil caught it before it hit the ground and handed it to you.

“Can’t have that,” he said lightly.

“Thank you,” you returned, taking it. You looked at all of them. “Have a wonderful night, guys. It was so great chatting with you.”

They all bid you one final farewell. Gwilym was the last to leave and you shared a lingering look with him before he closed the door. You continued to stare at the spot where he disappeared, realizing now how much you had missed him these last couple years.

“Ready to go to bed?” Stacy asked.

With a yawn, you nodded, and she ordered an Uber to take all three of you back to the hotel you were staying in. It wasn’t far from the venue, since you would be doing three shows there this week before moving on Boston. Stacy eyed you with an odd smirk as you stared out the car window. Finally, you looked at her.

“What is it?” you asked, a bit snappier than you intended.

“You and Gwilym Lee seemed to have a little something going on,” she said with a sly smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “We just knew each other a couple years ago. Besides, you know I’m...involved with someone.”

“Ah, right,” she said, rolling her eyes now. “The ever elusive Dear Friend.”

“Hey, if anyone’s elusive, it’s me,” you said. “I was the one who made the arrangement what it is.”

“Y/N, you write letters to some mystery man,” she replied. “He could be anyone. Gwilym Lee is a real person and right in front of you.”

“Dear Friend is a real person,” you argued. “I’ve just never met him.”

“And yet you’re convinced he’s your soulmate,” she returned. “I just don’t get it. How can you fall in love with someone through paper?”

“You don’t understand,” you said. “You’ve never read his letters. He’s so...eloquent and smart. And I can be myself with him. I can share my deepest thoughts and desires without any fear of judgement. He does so with me as well. It’s a real connection. The strongest I’ve ever felt with anyone.”

“You don’t know anything real about each other,” she insisted. “Not your names, not your jobs, where you live-”

“Those things don’t matter,” you cut across her. “The real stuff is deeper than that. And that’s where Dear Friend and I meet.”

“Whatever,” she said dismissively, weary of having this discussion yet again. “You’ve got your family reunion on your last day in town. I suggest you find a man in person to go with you. If you show up without someone again, I think your mother will actually lose her mind.”

You considered this. She was right, your mother absolutely hounded you about your romantic life since Violet was born. You told her you weren’t ready since your marriage had left you so scarred. You didn’t tell her about Dear Friend, though, since you knew she could never understand something like that. Plus, you had only been corresponding for a year.

“I think Gwilym would go with you,” Stacy said, nudging you with her elbow.

“I was thinking more along the lines of hiring some actor to be my boyfriend,” you replied. “I don’t want to expose Gwilym to my family. He’s been nothing but nice to me.”

She chuckled. “At least take him up on the coffee. I really think you should explore your options in case this Dear Friend isn’t who he says he is.”

“I will take him up on the coffee,” you assured her. “But it’s not a date. In the meantime, find some poor struggling actor to go with me and get my mother off my back.”

“I’m on it,” she assured you, already looking through her phone to get started.

You reached the hotel at last. You took Violet to your room, bidding Stacy goodnight as she went to her room next door. You tucked your daughter into bed and kissed her on the forehead before heading over the desk. You pulled out the letter from Dear Friend that was still in your pocket and read it once more. Then you pulled out your stationery and pen to begin your reply. You were halfway through your letter when you remembered Gwilym.

You opened your phone and pulled up his number, which you had from your days of being coworkers. You opened up a text to send to him and found yourself blanking on what to say. You had written paragraphs to Dear Friend, but when it came to asking someone to get a simple cup of coffee, you had no idea how to phrase it. It made you all the more certain Dear Friend was your person. Words came easily when talking to him.

You went with your stage personality. You sent a casual, “Is tomorrow too soon for that coffee?” with a silly emoji. Then you returned to your letter. Gwilym texted back almost right away and suggested meeting around nine in the morning, which you agreed to. Then you finished writing your letter and sealed it in an envelope for Stacy to send off in the morning.

The letters always took some time. One thing you knew about Dear Friend was that he was from the UK. The PO box you sent the letters to was in London, but you could also tell from the way he spelled things. You often teased each other about these differences. So of course, they took longer to send and receive. But, you agreed with Brian May that the anticipation of getting one was one of the most exciting parts of the experience.

Another benefit of him being across the pond meant that your opportunities to meet were few. In fact, you hadn’t had one since you started writing. It was a bit of a relief. You knew you loved Dear Friend, but keeping him at arm’s (well, ocean’s) length felt safest. And after your brutal marriage to Violet’s father, Henry, being safe was of top priority for you. And yet, the desire to be with Dear Friend grew daily. It just terrified you to face the reality of it.

The next morning, you dropped the letter and Violet off with Stacy while you went to meet up with Gwilym. You went to a local coffee shop and ordered. You paid, and he protested, but you insisted, and assured him that he could get it next time. You grabbed a table and started talking. You told him you were still living in Los Angeles and that you were mostly doing shows out in California. You tended to avoid New York, since Henry and his friends and family were still there and he was still an NYPD officer. You couldn’t avoid it on tour, though, nor your family reunion. You told Gwilym about the reunion, but not the part about you ex-husband.

“You’re hiring someone?” he asked, baffled. “A stranger?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Some guy that was rejected from Broadway or something. I’ll pay him, and we’ll come up with a story for my mother, and then the next time I see her I’ll tell her how we tragically broke up.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll do it for you.”

You blinked. “You really don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “We’re friends. I know meeting strange men is difficult for you.”

Gwilym knew that Henry had abused you because you talked about it in your sets. You never got into gruesome detail, although you had confessed a few things to Dear Friend. You talked on stage about not dating because of what you had been through. It was extremely kind of Gwilym to offer this, and you weren’t sure how you could thank him. Your comedian mask slipped on again.

“I’m not sure I can afford your rates, Mr. Lee,” you teased.

“How much was my coffee?” he returned.

“Five dollars,” you told him.

“Well, it turns out, for friends, I offer a discounted price of five dollars,” he joked. “So, consider it payment for the coffee.”

Your brow furrowed. “Are you sure about this?”

“Really, it’s fine,” he reassured you. “It’s just one day.”

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” you said, seriously.

He raised a curious eyebrow at your tone.

“I mean, it’s just one of the nicest things,” you continued, blushing once again under his gaze. “You’re a very generous person, Gwilym.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “Or you’re just still getting used to kindness.”

You smiled, unwilling to go any deeper.

“Let’s chalk it up to a combination of both,” you said lightly.

You finished your coffees and headed to the door. He had to go to an interview and you were going to take Violet around the city since the weather was nice. As you hugged goodbye, you smiled up at him.

“See you Saturday?” you asked.

“Saturday,” he affirmed.

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gusenitsaa · 6 years ago

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Whumpetition / @badthingshappenbingo prompt #5: outnumbered.

(the latest in my growing collection of whumplets in the universe of ‘the darling affair’ verse by @icecubelotr44)

1. I know you’re in there 2. Buried Alive 3. Ambulance Ride 4. Sadistic Choice (All these whumplets are also in a collection on FF )

Liam Jones never drank more than two drinks while he was out, and only bottles he could open himself. Killian called him paranoid with a teasing look. The taunt rang even more hollow than usual when his little brother pulled the two glasses from his bag. Open drinks, prepared food, even glassware was suspect. In their line of work, a little paranoia went a long way towards staying alive. Fortunately, the bartender indulged their eccentricities and always gave them their bottles sealed.

It hadn’t been much of night out at all really, but Killian had insisted on a drink after work before he went home to Emma. He had news, as it turned out. News that drove him to pack tumblers in his bag and half drag his older brother from his desk five minutes earlier than their agreed upon time. News that made his eyes light up in that peculiar way that had, eventually, made Liam adore Emma Swan nearly as much as his brother did.

A child.

To be named for their mother, a secret he was to guard with his life until Emma worked up the nerve to tell the Nolans, and he’d rarely guarded so precious a secret.

Hadn’t it only been yesterday Killian had been hardly more than a child himself? And now… Perhaps it was the news. Or the drink. Or the light in Killian’s eyes but he shook his head, feeling a little giddy himself as they left the establishment. He was going to be an Uncle.

The giddiness amplified though and his step faltered. He hadn't eaten today, hadn't had time, but really... it was only one drink. It only took one glance over at Killian for him to realize it wasn't his poor diet that had caused his world to spin. Killian too looked glassy eyed and... damn... he texted a 911 to Scarlet and took Killian's arm, helping him to lean against the wall. It seemed to have hit Killian faster, perhaps due to his smaller size, already Killian was half-conscious leaning against the wall. Liam’s vision was blurry but he placed himself between his brother and the street, straining to see the threat that must be coming.

The road remained empty for a moment and Liam risked a glance at Killian. His eyes were glazed and distant and after only a moment or two longer he slumped against the wall, the drug too much for his smaller frame. Killian sank, lifeless to the ground and Liam knelt next to him, trying to call out to him but the words came out garbled and unrecognizable, even to him.

A sudden light hit them and Liam spun, two lights. Spotlights. His slow mind didn’t figure out the word headlights until several moments later. Could Scarlet have gotten someone here so fast? His vision was swimming and it was not until the men were within a few feet that he was confident these men were not his.

His words of "get the hell away from my brother" sounded more menacing in his head than they did when they came out and one of the men laughed. Then, suddenly there was blood on his hand and the laughing stopped. Without warning, the man was gone and there was a hard blow to his back that sent him careening to the floor.

Stupid, Liam, stupid. Count your adversaries first, always.

He struggled to his feet, shaking his head and regretting it when the world only spun faster. It was like trying to move in water... in molasses while intoxicated and by the time Liam got off the ground one of the forms was leaning over Killian’s body. The sound he let was fairly indecipherable, but it made the man leaning over Killian pause and look back at him. Not fast enough. Liam charged, slamming the man into the wall before someone was throwing him to the ground again. He stilled when he heard the cock of a gun and looked up into the barrel of a... his mind was distracted for a moment, frustrated by not being able to remember the chamber capacity of a glock 17 before his mind finally comes around to it doesn't matter because now it's pointed at his little brother.

“Pick him up” the voice behind the gun demanded. “Or leave him behind as a smear on the wall.” It must have taken Liam a moment to process the order because the man made a frustrated noise. Liam moved to Killian’s side as quickly as he could, squatting to drape Killian over his shoulders. He lost his balance though, and fell. He heard laughter again and the man nodded at one of the black clad forms who knelt and took something from Liam’s hip. It wasn’t until much later that he'd realize he’d had his service weapon all this time and didn’t even remember it.

When Killian woke he was looking down at the floor of a… he stared for a moment at the pattern, trying to determine what he was looking at. Then the memories began to flicker back in and he bolted upright, his head pounding. He didn’t make it far though, his shoulders pulled back, shackled to something behind him and when he looked up to see what it was, he saw Liam.

Liam was on a bench on the other side of the… van? truck… some kind of vehicle based on the vibration of movement. His hands were behind him as well and he was slumped over, a steady trickle of blood from his temple pooling on the ground at his feet.

“Liam!” Killian called, tugging against the cuffs behind him futilely. “LIAM!”

A tight panic curled in Killian’s chest when Liam didn’t answer. He’s bleeding, Killian told himself, trying to abate the panic. If he’s bleeding his heart is still beating. He took inventory. His service weapon was gone, so was his backup. His legs were immobile too but when he looked down he saw a simple rope knot holding his boots to the bench.

“Idiots” he mumbled under his breath. It was not exactly easy to slip his boot off of one foot but once he did the ropes around his ankles slip loose.

Folding his still booted foot up next to him on the bench he twisted until he could reach the sole of his boot and the lock picks hidden inside with his cuffed hands. That done he was out of the cuffs in moments and moving instantly to his brother, reaching first to check for a pulse at his throat. Steady if a bit slow. He took Liam’s face in both hands; still warm, still breathing.

“Come on Liam- Time to wake up, we have work to do-“ Liam's eyes flickered behind his eyelids and Killian noded, still holding his head up as Liam fought to rouse himself. “That’s it, comeon-“ He let Liam’s head fall to his shoulder as he did inventory for his brother as well. No weapon. No backup. He reached behind Liam to work on his cuffs when suddenly the vehicle braked hard. Killian’s body, missing the memo to stop, hit the side of the wall with a crack that made him see stars. then the back door was thrown open and men came pouring into the back of the vehicle. Killian was overwhelmed before the spots in his vision cleared and before he could fight back his cuffs were back in place and his precious lock picks confiscated along with his boots. “Just in case”, he heard one of the men grumble. (They were right.)

The truck began to move again and he cursed. “How the devil did they know-“ Killian spat, tugging against the new restraints in frustration.

“Killian-“ Liam’s voice was still bleary but he caught Killian’s eye. “At your 9.”

Killian glanced in the indicated direction and almost missed it at first. Then he saw it, a tiny pinpoint camera on the wall. He cursed again. “Sorry, Liam, I didn’t see it.”

“You alright?” Liam murmured.

“Fine, you?”

“Groggy,” Liam said, shaking his head and rubbing the blood from his face with his shoulder. “Dizzy. Otherwise fine.”

“Concussion?” Killian asked.

Liam considered for a moment. Under normal circumstances he might say no to avoid worrying Killian, but like it or not they were now both in the field and Killian needed to know the state of his partner.

“Possibly,” Liam admitted, “How long?”

“I don’t know. I just woke up myself. Who the hell are these guys?”

Liam shook his head, still looking at the floor. His head ached and he was having trouble thinking clearly as he tried to remember the most recent intelligence reports-

“Liam?”

If anything had indicated a higher than usual threat assessment- surely not. He would have noticed any threat to Killian or his family.

“Liam!?”

Movement of Killian’s enemies was strictly monitored and those reports came straight to him before the analysts even had a crack at th-

“LIAM!?”

Liam winced and started. Killian was looking at him intently and he realized he’d gotten lost in his head for a moment. It had been too long since he’d done field work.

“I don’t know” Liam said worriedly after a moment.

“What?”

“I don’t know who they are.”

Killian’s eyebrows lifted and he gave a small shrug “Well whoever they are they sure as hell don’t like us. And whatever they put in those drinks was damn fast. I don’t even remember leaving the bar.”

He eyed Liam carefully, hoping he was cognizant enough to recognize the question under the statement. Had Liam sent a 911, because he hadn't

Liam’s head was spinning and leaned his head back against the wall of the truck hoping it would ease the wave of nausea. “I do- I think…I think I tex-“ he stopped abruptly remembering the camera right before he informed their kidnappers who he’d texted by name. “I think I texted home before I passed out.”

It was a poor recovery as things went but it conveyed what he needed Killian to hear. JR Solutions knew already.

The truck turned and Killian could hear gravel under the tires, Non paved streets probably meant their destination was nearby… Liam recognized the change as well and glanced up at Killian.

“Welcome to the other side” Killian whispered, a tentative smile on his lips.

“The other side?”

“My side. And on my side there’s only two rules. Don’t tell them anything and stay alive until backup arrives.”

Liam thinks there should be three rules. “Don't needlessly antagonize your captors.” But he knows Killian has never learned that rule and he doesn’t mention it. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps if he’d mentioned it Killian would not have deemed it necessary to knee the man who unshackled him from the bench in the gut so hard the man lost his lunch. And when he was replaced by three others he found it entirely necessary to break a nose with his forehead.

It doesn't help him escape. But it sure as hell kept Liam from being the center of attention which was, more or less, the point. It worked. For all of 15 seconds. After which Liam was charging the man that hit him like a damn bull. They were outnumbered and Liam was already concussed, his head swimming, but the brothers Jones were still excellent at fighting back to back. It was more effort, and more bruises and pain than their captors expected to receive.

Liam's lack of recent field experience worked against him and he went down first, under a rain of blows from the captors he has now successfully angered. A man with blood dripping from a freshly broken nose hit Liam hard in the knee and he stumbled, pain flaring and throwing him off balance long enough for someone else to manage a brutal blow to his side that knocked the wind from him and made him see stars. It didn't slow him long, but it was enough for one of the quicker thinkers to drag him forward, away from Killian. Neither of them were truly down yet, but, no longer able to guard each other's back, it was only a very short matter of time.

Killian was better able to roll will the blows, long and recent practice in taking beatings had taught him how to come out of it with some unpleasant bruises, but it wasn't really so bad, by comparison. Liam, he wasn’t as familiar at rolling with it. It had been a while since circumstances called for him to take a punch, and a lot longer since he had taken a real beating.

Liam was on his side, the weight of several men pinning him uselessly to the dirt as he watched Killian fall too, curling up and taking the blows with no more than a grunt now and then. When Killian was still they dragged him to his feet again. His head lolled forward and Liam struggled harder when he didn't get his feet under him on his own. They dragged Killian’s limp body into a building and Liam stopped fighting, praying that they take him where they took Killian.

There was not much in the building in terms of decor. There was a desk in the room and a laptop. Killian was already half-standing half-hanging from his wrists in the middle of the room. His own hands are wrenched above his head like his brother’s but Liam hardly noticed. his attention fixed on Killian as he shook his head and struggled to get his feet back under him.

Liam’s throat went dry at the familiarity. He’d been here. He’d seen this. In the horrifyingly brilliant resolution of a live stream in Ops. Every time he watched that video he just wanted to reach through the screen. He told himself If he were there he’d have been able to stop it.

But now he’s here. And he can’t stop it.

He’s going to watch them kill his brother.

Again.

But this time there will be no mistake. No camera dying at just the wrong moment. No chance of Killian fighting his way home long after Liam had given up. Just the cold body of his brother 10 feet away where he can’t even reach him...

“Liam...” Killian’s voice broke into Liam’s thoughts and Liam looked up to see Killian’s bright eyes boring into his. “Stay here with me. Don’t make it worse in your head.”

Liam expected them to ask questions next, but they don’t. Most of the men vanished after the Jones brothers were chained up, clearly they’d known transport was going to be the hard part. Only a few remain, inside. one sits at the computer, Liam can see several more shadows passing by the door and he watches them move outside, memorizing the pattern until his focus is broken by a thud and a gasp.

“What no foreplay?” Killian asked when he could breathe again. “I thought we could play a name game or two, maybe do some trust falls.”

“Or I could cut your Achilles’ tendon and make you scream until your throat bleeds,” The man replied flatly. Not familiar, no distinguishable accent.

“Leave him alone,” Liam said quietly, “and tell us what the hell you want from us.” He didn’t hear anyone come up behind him, only felt the air rush from his lungs as someone hit him hard from behind. Blows rained down quickly after that, though he couldn’t see his attacker after a blow to the back of his head made his world flip upside down and sideways.

He knew what they were doing. Softening up. That’s what they called it. The questions would come later...

_____

Tagging the ‘competitors’ and the peanut gallery! @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable @pirate-owl@icecubelotr44@hollyethecurious @killian-whump @cocohook38

If you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list aka the peanut gallery! let me know

#bad things happen bingo #whumpetition #the brothers jones #the brothers jones ff #cs ff #(as per usual for me lately #CS verse but not the focus of the fic)#the darling affair adjacent #outnumbered

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youknowmymethods · 6 years ago

Text

Content Creator Interview #7

Welcome to interview number 7! Guys, this is a two-parter with fandom friends @ellis-hendricks and @geekmama posing a similar set of questions to each other. Ellis won the coin toss, so she’s up first -- discussing why her husband is to blame for her Sherlock obsession, fluffy realism, and why John reminds her of a sad walrus -- with geekmama’s turn coming next week.

Ellis_Hendricks (interviewed by geekmama)

We are, respectively, a Californian and a Geordie, and we got to know each other through reading and reviewing each other’s fics (geekmama’s ‘Time of the Season’ series was one of the first fics I read and loved). Geekmama has been writing in the fandom for around 3 years, and I’ve been doing the same for around 2 years, spurred on by the end of series 4 (and the ILY scene in particular). We started beta-reading each other’s work around a year ago, and are always discovering new and unexpected words and phrases that don’t translate across the pond! Although we’ve used the same set of questions for these interviews, we haven’t seen each other’s answers – so it does mean that if nobody else is interested, at least we will be!

Questions about the series

geekmama: Was there a particular moment in the series that set the ship sailing for you?

Ellis_Hendricks: It happened as soon as I started paying attention properly! I missed series 1 when the BBC first showed it, and when it was repeated, it was my husband who wanted to watch, and I was just casually joining in. But I think it was probably ASiB that did it for me - the contrast between Irene and Molly, and the manner in which Molly stood up for herself.

geekmama: What's your favourite episode and why?

Ellis_Hendricks: I know it’s considered by some to be the least ‘Sherlock’ of Sherlock episodes, but it’s got to be The Sign of Three. The Best Man speech alone is an amazing piece of writing and performance, but then you’ve got the Worst Stag Night in History (™), Sherlock’s Mind Palace interactions with the women caught up with the Mayfly Man, and of course, Molly stabbing her fiancé with a fork! But it also reveals some of Sherlock’s secrets (his love of dancing) and vulnerabilities (his loneliness), and they’re so deftly woven into the action and the comedy. From a Sherlolly point of view, the ‘planning the stag do’ scene is always going to be a classic (I particularly love how Molly has the upper hand here), and then there’s the look on Molly’s face during Sherlock’s speech that so clearly shows that she only has eyes for the Best Man.

geekmama: If you could ask/tell the series writers one thing, what would it be?

Ellis_Hendricks: Very hard to pick one thing, as there are so many moments when you really want to interrogate the writers’ intentions, particularly when they (deliberately, infuriatingly) leave things vague! I have always wanted to know, though, how Janine came to be Mary’s chief bridesmaid - was Janine a pawn used by Magnussen to befriend Mary and gain her trust, was she in on it in some way (seems unlikely), or were she and Mary genuinely just friends and the connection was just a massive coincidence?!

Oh, and at what point did Sherlock realise that Molly was engaged? The way the camera zooms into her engagement ring implies that this was the moment he noticed (and his previous behaviour would largely support that) - but it’s hard to believe that Sherlock would miss a detail like that.

geekmama: Do you have a controversial opinion about the series? E.g. a character who everyone else hates, but who you love?

Ellis_Hendricks: I’m not keen on Irene, although that’s probably not a controversial opinion. But it’s not particularly for shipper reasons - I just don’t like what the writers did with the character, which, to me, was quite tired and hackneyed. I do have a soft spot for poor Tom, though - and actually, I don’t think his ‘meat dagger’ idea was that idiotic! In other circumstances, if Sherlock had come up with that, it would have been hailed as genius!

geekmama: Have you ever, when watching an episode, cracked a case before Sherlock?

Ellis_Hendricks: Ha! No. Although I did notice right away that the same actress (Sian Brooke) was playing multiple roles in TLD - not that I worked out why, though!

geekmama: With whom would you rather be stuck at a wedding table - Janine or Irene? Donovan or Anderson?

Ellis_Hendricks: I would be massively intimidated by all three women, for different reasons, and Anderson would obviously be intolerable. It’s probably got to be Donovan - she’d have some good police stories, at least, and she probably wouldn’t try to make me dance.

geekmama: Who would you rather bring back in series 5 - Mary or Moriarty?

Ellis_Hendricks: I really like Mary, but I would throw something at the TV if it turned out she’d faked her own death somehow. I was sad she was killed off, but once it’s done, I think it has to be final. Moriarty has probably had his day now, too, especially in the light of the revelations about Eurus - although his suicide was a brilliant shock, I do wonder whether Moftiss killed him off too soon.

geekmama: Whose house would you prefer to live in - Sherlock's, John & Mary's, Molly's or Mrs Hudson's?

Ellis_Hendricks: If the rest of Molly’s flat/house is as nice as her kitchen, then Molly’s (although the kitchen wasn’t at all what I would have imagined for her). Although it has some nice quirks, I would generally see 221B as a horrible regression to student filth.

geekmama: In your opinion, who has been the best series villain - Jim Moriarty, Charles Magnussen, Culverton Smith, or Eurus Holmes?

Ellis_Hendricks: I think it has to be Jim, if only because he was the most fun. Magnussen and Smith were clearly despicable human beings in their own way, and they were both incredibly chilling. Although Eurus is a fascinating prospect, as a character in this particular show (and with the history she was given), I found her harder to buy into - it was all a bit too Silence of the Lambs.

Questions about your writing

geekmama: What was your first fic? What prompted it, and how do you feel about it now?

Ellis_Hendricks: It was ‘Completely Backwards’ - aka, Sherlock hatches a plot to get Molly pregnant, because he somehow thinks it will make her happy. It ended up being part of a much longer series, although I didn’t plan it that way. In fact, I wrote it more or less freeform, and it wasn’t beta-read, so I guess it’s a bit rough around the edges - looking back, there are a few small plot points I would change (mostly due to my relative lack of grounding in the series at the time), but it more or less stands up. Two years later, people are still reading and liking it, so it must work okay!

geekmama: Which fic are you most proud of/most attached to, and why?

Ellis_Hendricks: I’m genuinely quite proud of all of them, but I’m really pleased with the way both ‘In Loco Parentis’ (which follows Sherlock and Molly through 18 years of godparenting) and ‘A Knockout Christmas’ (Sherlock does A Christmas Carol) turned out. Both were quite big challenges. ‘In Loco Parentis’ involved thinking about how Sherlock and Molly would develop as a long-term married couple, how everyone’s lives might change and move on, and also both creating and sustaining original characters (in the form of their kids - and to an extent Rosie, who is not mine, but who we only know as a baby, and therefore have to take a guess at!). ‘A Knockout Christmas’ was an idea that came to me in a moment of insanity, and which I wrote fairly quickly - but I felt as though it had to strike a balance of being true to the series, and close enough to A Christmas Carol so that it followed similar beats and themes. Oh, and getting the choice of Sherlock’s ‘ghosts’ right was vital as well!

geekmama: In what ways does that old rule, “Write what you know” affect your writing?

Ellis_Hendricks: Quite a bit, I think. Or if I want to write about something that I don’t know, I do sufficient research so I can at least bluff that I know about it! My background is totally arts-based, so I feel very out of my depth when writing about anything sciencey (Chemistry was my worst subject in high school - I felt like doing a victory parade when I passed that exam!). I’m also not well-versed in fantasy or sci-fi literature, so I would also feel a bit of a fraud attempting something in an AU along those lines. Most of my fics are straightforward family/relationship pieces, and I suppose that’s my comfort zone. Generally speaking, my life is far too uneventful to actually inform plotlines - although Molly’s medical emergency in ‘Under One Roof’ was based on the birth of my younger child (and writing it served as cheap therapy!)

geekmama: What are your worst writing habits? What are your most overused phrases, plotlines, etc.?

Ellis_Hendricks: I’m not so hot on writing beautiful, detailed description, so I feel it’s something that’s lacking a bit in some of my fics - and it’s kind of out of laziness, and an impatience to get to the bits I do like! I think that I’m a bit repetitive when it comes to describing people’s gestures/facial expressions/reactions, and I’m also guilty of burdening characters with the same old verbal tics and quirks. In terms of plotlines, you could probably argue that all of my fics are basically the same story written from a slightly different angle!

geekmama: Do you have a writing routine? Where and when? And is everything digital, or are things ever handwritten first?

Ellis_Hendricks: Oh, for a writing routine! When I come up with an idea, it’s a case of frantically jotting down notes (usually on my PC or phone, but occasionally on paper if that’s more convenient at the time) - I then try to work those notes into a story plan in bullet points, usually including bits of dialogue if it occurs while I’m thinking. I generally have to write in short bursts, as and when I have time - at my desk during my lunch hour, on my phone while commuting (by train, I hasten to add - not while driving), at home once the small people have gone to bed. But if I had more time, I know I’d only procrastinate!

geekmama: Who do you enjoy writing the most?

Ellis_Hendricks: I’d love to give a more interesting answer, but it’s probably Sherlock - although writing his parents is also a lot of fun.

geekmama: Who do you find easiest/hardest doing first person POV?

Ellis_Hendricks: I think I’ve written from Sherlock’s, Molly’s, John’s, Mary’s and Mycroft’s POV, and to be honest, I’ve loved doing all of them, because each presents a different writing challenge. Mary was possibly the hardest, because she’s such a closed book in a way, and so much is unknown - and because I want to be sympathetic to her, at the same time as finding some of her choices questionable! Writing ‘A Dead Man in the Family’ really got me into writing Mycroft - to the point that I actually started to feel an affinity with him, which was a bit disconcerting!

geekmama: Which fic would you recommend to someone who has never read your stuff before?

Ellis_Hendricks: Hmm, if someone wanted a quick taster, maybe ‘The Wedding Planner’ or a recent one, ‘A Piece of That’. Most of my fics are multi-chapter, so if you’re willing to get your teeth into something longer (so to speak - that sounds wrong!), you could try ‘Not What it Looks Like’ (only 3 chapters), or start with ‘Completely Backwards’ and then see whether you want to keep reading that series for the next five months!

geekmama: What do you value most when it comes to feedback?

Ellis_Hendricks: All feedback is wonderful (except for the time a 12-year-old tried to start an ALL CAPS fight with me about Eurus!). For me, the greatest compliment is when people say that the characters feel authentic, and/or a story feels like a missing scene from the series. Anytime that someone says a story made them laugh, cry, or otherwise have a spontaneous outburst of emotion, that’s amazing, too. But having that dialogue with readers is what is important - the feeling that you’re not just throwing out stories into the void, and the encouragement that keeps you writing.

geekmama: Would you ever go back and revise old fics - or do you consign them to history once they're published?

Ellis_Hendricks: No, I’m pretty much of the feeling that what’s done is done. The only changes I’ve made are spelling/grammatical ones that I’ve spotted later on - or when I’ve spotted a glaring error that might throw people out of a story. I don’t think I’d ever do a wholesale rewrite.

geekmama: Do you - or would you - write other pairings?

Ellis_Hendricks: I write other established pairings, e.g. John and Mary, and have written post-TFP fics where Mycroft and Lady Smallwood are a couple in some way, but I haven’t written other fan pairings. Everyone is totally free to ship who they like, but I guess I just write the ones that appeal to me.

geekmama: How would you define your style?

Ellis_Hendricks: One reviewer described it as ‘fluffy realism’, so I think I might pinch that! Generally, my fics are fairly close to canon, and use events in the series as a hook or jumping-off point.

geekmama: What's your method in approaching a story? Do you plan methodically, or wing it?

Ellis_Hendricks: I used to wing it, but I’m better at planning these days - it at least means that if I lose momentum or have a gap between chapters, I’ve got something to fall back on. When writing a multi-chapter fic, I used to publish a chapter and then write the next, but now I tend to try to write the whole thing first (or at least get a few chapters ahead) - much less stressful that way!

geekmama: Who do you write for? Is it you, or are you thinking about trying to please your audience?

Ellis_Hendricks: Certainly in the early days, I was just writing things that I would like to read, as there was no guarantee that anyone else would be interested! That’s probably changed a bit now, but I go by the rule that if I don’t find something engaging and entertaining, then I’ve got no right to expect that other people will!

geekmama: Do you have any WIPs, and do you think new chapters will ever see the light of day?

Ellis_Hendricks: No, I don’t have any WIPs - I’m not good at juggling more than one idea at a time, and I’m a bit of a compulsive completer, too. If I get a new idea while writing a fic, I make a few frenzied notes and then bury it until I’m ready.

geekmama: Are you working on anything at the moment?

Ellis_Hendricks: All I have is an outline for a one-shot, which I’m hoping will see the light of day before too long. These days, it’s really hard to come up with something that hasn’t already been done (and done well) by someone else!

geekmama: What’s harder for you - writing the start of a fic, or coming up with a decent title?

Ellis_Hendricks: The start of a story, because of that need to grab people (hopefully a reader might forgive a crap title?!). I had a teacher who said that once you’ve written something, you should always go back and jettison the first paragraph, because it’s usually a pointless preamble - not sure whether I agree with that entirely, but I do always check to see whether there’s a better way of just jumping into a story.

Reading other people's fics

geekmama: What are your favourite tropes in the fandom?

Ellis_Hendricks: Lots of the old favourites. Off the top of my head...bed-sharing, Molly as ‘the missus’, secret dating/marriage, being lab partners, accidental pregnancy.

geekmama: What things are likely to turn you off a fic?

Ellis_Hendricks: I try to be pretty open-minded, but I’m not keen on fics where Sherlock is portrayed as insanely jealous or aggressively dominant, or when Molly is a bit of a teenage fangirl, usually with little or no backbone. Another is where Tom turns out to be a total bastard, either before or after Molly breaks up with him - I know we don’t see a lot of him, but I don’t read him that way at all, and I like to think that (even after Jim from IT!) Molly has better judgement.

geekmama: Can you recommend 3 fics that are not your own?

Ellis_Hendricks: No, because I’ve read too many good ones. But I’m always excited when I see something new from geekmama, MizJoely, Writingwife83, waitingtobedistributed, OhAine, Quarto, sunken_standard, miabicicletta, forthegenuine or hobbitsdoitbetter.

geekmama: What compels you to leave comments on top of kudos?

Ellis_Hendricks: I don’t know exactly - but it does feel like a compulsion. If something has really impressed me, moved me, made me laugh, or has prompted me to go and read the whole thing again, then it definitely warrants a comment.

Quick-fire questions!

John's TEH moustache or his TAB moustache?

Ellis_Hendricks: TAB moustache, because it’s acceptable for the period setting. TEH moustache makes him look like a sad walrus.

Sherlock's purple shirt or white shirt?

Ellis_Hendricks: Can’t say I’m fussy in this regard, but...purple. Or the all-black get-up from ASiB.

Molly's stripy jumper or cherry cardigan?

Ellis_Hendricks: Stripy jumper - it looks cosy (although I would snag it on everything).

Mary's christening outfit or black-ops gear?

Ellis_Hendricks: Black-ops. I’d wear it when I’m surreptitiously moving my neighbours’ bins.

Submitted by @thisisartbylexie: Your way of presenting Mary and Molly's friendship is so realistic and rich. What made you want to write about it?

Ellis_Hendricks: Thank you - and that’s such a great question! (I also had no idea that artbylexie had read my fics, so that made my day.) Well, I’m a feminist, and I think that female friendships are worth celebrating whenever you can. Also, Molly and Mary are both such brilliant characters in their own rights, and I was keen to think about their lives outside of their relationships to the men in the series. It always fascinated me that Molly wasn’t a bridesmaid at the Watsons’ wedding, but she was made a godmother less than nine months later - so a strong friendship must have developed in that time. I tend to think that, because of her past, Mary wouldn’t have fostered many genuine friendships, but that she can’t help but make an exception for Molly. Makes me want to write something else for them now!

Submitted by @ohaine: this is a joint question for Ellis and geekmama: Do you feel that working together as betas has changed the way you both write?

Ellis_Hendricks: Yes, I’m certain it has made me up my game! The quality of geekmama’s own work (both creatively, in terms of plot, and technically, in terms of grammar and structure) is very high, so I suppose I have that to aspire to when I write, too. She’s great at spotting my errors or opportunities for improvement - I guess that could make me lazy (knowing she’ll pick them up), but I think it makes me more determined to do a good job first time around, so she doesn’t have too much to do!

Next week, April 5th 2019, the shoe is on the other foot and @ellis-hendricks puts her questions to @geekmama

#content creator interviews #sherlolly #sherlock #ellishendricks #geekmama

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