#ah I miss drawing Graham

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Bid A Strong Ghost Stand at the Head Ch. 1

An art exhibition ends with Poison Ivy attacking a research facility and Danny getting caught in the crossfire. Bruce takes this opportunity to find out more about his firstborn son, but getting answers out of Danny is like chasing ghosts. 4th installment of the Hey Brother AU

A DPxDC crossover // Read on [AO3]

MASERLIST // Next Chapter →

There was a bevy of older women surrounding Damian at the art gala. Mothers, all of them, with their bored children dragged behind and then pushed in Damian’s way. From where Bruce stood in his own circle of sycophants, he couldn’t hear what the matrons of high society were saying to his son, but he could make an educated guess that it was something along the lines of what a handsome boy you are, you take after your father so well. Why don’t you play with my son, Hunter, or my daughter, Regina? I know you’ll all get along so well!

Damian, unsurprisingly, was disinterested. Unimpressed, given by the way he looked down on all the children shoved in front of him. (An impressive feat, too, considering that Damian stood at least an inch shorter than most of them.)

Bruce inclined his head to the man towards his right, making the appropriate sounds as he half-listened to a story about the Bahamas and swimming pigs. 

A brief glance towards the buffet table revealed that Damian was not there. The gaggle of children were, of course. The buffet table was one of the few sanctuaries a child could get in these events. He scanned the gallery a few more times. Dick had caught his gaze, flashing a quick ‘ok’ sign as he headed towards Iris Graham’s collection of charcoal drawings a little farther into the venue. Presumably to where Damian was. 

A server came by with a fresh tray of champagne. Bruce took that moment as an opportunity to loudly exclaim that there is someone he absolutely must talk with on the other side of the room, and deftly extricated himself from the group. Now, off to find his son.

Bruce wasn’t worried that Damian would try something— wait, no, he took that back. Five children and even more ‘children-adjacent’ children taught him enough to know that peaceful galas with the Wayne family present were few and far between. 

But that wasn’t the point. 

Damian had been ‘off’ more times than ‘on’ these past few weeks, following the appearance and just as abrupt disappearance from his brother. 

Damian’s brother. As in Bruce’s son.

(His firstborn son. His resurrected son. His ‘ trained in the League of Shadows to become a perfect killing machine’ son. Bruce was not one to believe in coincidences, but this was just absurd.)

Stubbornly, Damian continued to keep quiet on the subject of his brother. Either ignoring the question completely at worst or giving out cryptic comments at best. The best in the League , Damian had said. Even Grandfather feared him. 

A pack of reporters hounded at his heels, all bright flashes and a hundred questions per minute. He gave them one of his signature BruceTM smiles, all gleaming white teeth, and empty-headedness. He ended up being saved by the star of tonight’s charity gala, Iris Graham, an up-and-coming artist who grew from the poverty-ridden streets of Gotham herself. She approached him, most likely, to convince him to buy one of her works. Unfortunately for her, Bruce had places to be and had no time for idle small talk. 

“Ah, Ms. Graham, you look positively dashing tonight.” He turned to the reporters, gesturing at Graham’s elegantly cut dark green pantsuit. “Doesn’t she look lovely, ladies and gents? Anyway, have I told you, Miss Graham, how much I adore your work? Truly marvelous stuff. Especially the one with the Gotham skyline at night. How ever did you come up with that?”

The reporters shifted their attention to Miss Graham, who flushed under their gaze. Shoulders rolled back, she lifted her chin high and began to enthusiastically detail the story of the painting, first addressing Bruce on pretense, and then fully embracing the press’ attention. Bruce, without missing a beat, left to pursue his children again. 

The past few days marked a noticeable shift in Damian’s behavior, however. There was a lightness in his step as if a thread of unseen tension came loose. He was less snappish, less moody.

And he spent a lot of time on his phone.

It did not take being the World’s Greatest Detective to guess that Damian’s brother came into contact with him again. Though whether this would bode them ill or not…Bruce couldn’t say for sure. 

He met up with Dick who was leaning against a large square pillar, arms crossed and phone held at an angle that seemed a touch too awkward. “I would have figured you’d be over there with him instead of spying on him through your phone.”

Dick stuck his tongue out. He tilted his phone slightly to get his shoulder out of the frame and zoomed in on Damian who stood a little farther down the hall. “I tried, earlier, but he kept trying to run away from me,” Dick said. “He’s gotten better at this gala thing, for sure, so I thought it was fine to keep my distance. I’m just glad he’s not chewing anyone’s head off.”

“Is he texting again?”

“With the way his thumbs are moving? Oh, yeah.” 

Bruce’s phone buzzed. So did Dick’s. 

“It’s O.” Dick pushed himself off the pillar. “Poison Ivy’s been sighted and she’s causing havoc at one of Synototech’s research labs.”

Bruce grunted. “Get your brother. We’ll suit up.”

◆◆◆

Red Robin was already on the scene when they arrived, dodging and weaving through the hoard of vines that sprouted in front of the entrance. 

“Poison Ivy has enough explosives inside the lab to level it to the ground!” Oracle said through their comms. “There are still people trapped inside. You guys need to get them out .”

A thick vine lunged at him. Batman barely rolled out of the way. The vine retreated, turning to curl itself around Poison Ivy, a calm and collected fury plain on her face. He barked orders at the others to disarm the explosives and get everyone inside the building out .

Farther away he spotted Robin with his katana drawn, slicing pieces of Poison Ivy’s plant army away. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” She thrust her arms outward, the vines obeying her command. Batman threw explosive batarangs at them before jumping away.

Nightwing yelled at Red Robin to jump back and slug explosive pellets at the entrance. The explosion ripped a hole into the entrance, and the two dove inside the building. 

Batman ripped a thick vine out of the ground and swung it around to take out the other plants. Another plant wrapped itself around his legs and flung him into the air. He barely stuck the landing.

The plants advanced on him again. Batman slid under them and slung a bolas at their base. The rope swung around the base and exploded.

Oracle’s voice crackled through the comms. “Nightwing got all the civilians out. Red Robin is nearly done disarming the bomb.”

He dodged a large thorned stem. At the corner of his eyes, he could see something dark red pulsing . 

Fuck. Where was Damian?  

It burst. A shrill scream. A bright blinding light.

Batman’s breath hitched. “Robin!”

He ran over to the plant bomb’s detonation sight. Pressing his comms, he shouted “Robin, what’s your situation? Where are you?”

“Help,” Robin said. Bruce’s blood ran cold. “ Father— he won’t stop screaming!”

“Poison Ivy’s fleeing the scene,” Oracle said.

Let her run, he’ll capture her later. Right now, his son needs him. 

“Gas mask, B. Don’t forget to put it on.”

The screaming had tapered off by the time he found his son. Robin knelt over something, back turned to him, the edges of his black cape singed. A few feet away from there were the remains of a giant plant that laid limp on the ground,  its red petals curled back tightly to the base of the flower. All around them there were giant holes— seeds —that dug straight through concrete.

“Robin,” He called out.

The other whipped his head back, eyes wide, gas mask already attached. “Father! Please— I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” Robin shifted his position.

There, knelt on the ground, was Damian’s brother. His head was bowed, nearly pressed against the ground, one hand grasping at debris and the other clenched against his side. He whimpered on the floor, drawing himself tighter. Red coated his hand, seeped and spread through the white of his shirt.

He knelt at the boy’s—at Danny’s? That’s what he preferred to be called if Bruce remembered correctly— side. “What happened?” 

“I was careless. I wasn’t watching my back. Poison Ivy’s new plant bomb has a quicker detonation time and I wasn’t able to get out of the blast radius quickly enough. My brother he— he saw and he shielded me. But I don’t know why he’s— He said he wasn’t hit .”

Danny convulsed. A scream ripped through his throat. 

“Bullet?”

“A— a seed bullet from one of Ivy’s new plants. It’s still inside him.”

Shit. He fished out a small bottle of saline and wads of gauze from his utility belt and gave Robin instructions to help pack the wound. They’ll have to take him back to the cave. 

Bruce spoke through the comms. “Red Robin, Nightwing, report.”

“Explosives have all been disarmed, B. I think I might know Poison Ivy’s motives, too.”

“The building’s all clear too, except for these plants. What the hell’s been happening on your end?”

“Poison Ivy’s escaped. Danyal al Ghul has been injured; I’m taking him to the cave.”

“What?” Nightwing and Red Robin exclaimed.

“RR and I can handle the clean-up here, B. You guys go on ahead.”Batman grunted. He lifted Danny up off the ground—why was he throwing himself into a fight wearing jeans and a t-shirt?— and carried him to the batmobile. Damian dogged at his heels, only pausing to swipe a sample of the plant bomb. 

“Oracle?”

“Already sent a message to Agent A to prep the infirmary, B.”

“Good.”

◆◆◆

Danny slipped between consciousness and unconsciousness during their ride back to the cave.

Alfred was already prepared, the infirmary fully stocked and the operating theater ready for use.

“Wait—” Damian. “Anesthesia doesn’t work on you.”

Danny groaned through clenched teeth as Bruce helped him onto the operating table. “It’ll work. Righ— hah— ‘m weak ‘nough right now that it’ll work.” He turned to Bruce, words slurring. “Jus’ gimme the strongest you got.” Another groan. “Please.”

Bruce slipped that piece of information into the file labeled ‘investigate later.’ “Damian, get the computer to analyze the plant sample you collected.”

Alfred helped Danny slip off his torn and bloodied shirt and tossed it into a bin. “I wasn’t aware that crime-fighting attire would be so casual these days.”

“Gettin’ shot wasn’t r’lly on m’ to-do list today. Might’ve dressed better ‘f I’d known.”

They worked quickly,  hooking Danny up to the appropriate machines and identifying the location of the seed. Damian had rushed back with an analysis report on the seed. Other than possessing a very tough shell, the seed itself was harmless. 

Alfred finished cleaning up the wound. “The seed will have to stay inside, I’m afraid.”

Danny vigorously shook his head, eyes squinted and unfocused. “Nonono, ya’ gotta take it out.”

“Taking it out will only risk more injury than leaving it in.”

“‘Nd the seed is made out ‘f the only thing in this world that can kill me.”

What?

“Rosa disanthus,” Danny wheezed. “Check. That’s the plant, yeah?”

Damian flipped through the report again. “Its— the plant shares similar DNA with it, yes. But according to the computer it's harmless.”

“Not to me.”

With the exception of a raised eyebrow, Alfred looked nonplussed. “Very well then.” He injected more anesthesia into the wound site and pulled up a rolling chair next to Danny, forceps brandished in one hand. “Do try to keep still.”

“I’ll have you know that’m a champ at playin’ dead.”

◆◆◆

Danny passed out soon after Alfred fished out the seed. Damian insisted that he help bandage his brother up, and in a rather surprising display of empathy, refused to leave Danny’s bedside.

Bruce managed to wrangle him to sleep by setting up another cot in the infirmary with plenty of promises to wake him up if anything happened. He crashed the second his head hit the pillow, showing how much this entire ordeal shook him. 

Before Alfred went about to clean the operating theater, he passed the bloodied seed off to Bruce. “While I may be old and hardly a medical expert, I’m quite sure that blood is not supposed to have bits of green in it.”

“Green?” Bruce took the forceps, holding the seed up to the light. It was unusually large, though judging from the plant it came from, he couldn’t be too surprised by it. He angled it slightly, eyes narrowed as he tried to spot a sliver of green. There. It was hardly noticeable amidst all the dark reds, but if you held it just right, you could see little flecks of green swirling about the blood. 

The seed itself looked unharmed, so it couldn’t have been from that.

Hm. More unanswered questions. 

While the blood was being analyzed, Bruce took the opportunity to breathe and—

And…

The remarkable thing about Danny was that his skin was unblemished. In their line of work—hero, vigilante, assassin — it was next to impossible to remain unscathed unless one had preternatural healing abilities or nigh-indestructible skin. Even Damian, young as he was, had a few scars to his name 

Danny—with the exception of the wound Alfred had stitched closed (a wound that will scar)— had none. Not a single mark.

That should be a good thing.

That should be a good thing. 

He is the best the League has ever produced

Bruce rubbed his face, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. He checked Danny’s vitals one more time, pulled Damian’s blanket over his shoulders, then sat himself down in front of the computer monitor. 

The first thing Bruce did was check on the summative reports that both Nightwing and Red Robin sent him. The mission was successful with minimal casualties and no deaths; all researchers within the facility were taken to the hospital for treatment. The two managed to neutralize the majority of the hostile plants Poison Ivy set both in and around the facility. Poison Ivy, however, still remained at large. 

Dick’s report also said that he and Tim were going to get something to eat at BatBurger and not to wait up.

You have some shit you need to sort out , the message seemed to say. And we’re not gonna be a part of it.

He closed off the report and opened a random assortment of case files. Despite his efforts, none of them really caught his attention, and he found his eyes glazing over. 

Bruce always had a good memory. 

It was useful more often than not. He was good at remembering faces and storing away minute details that may or may not become useful in a case, and it helped him juggle both of his personas. But there were times when having a good memory was more trouble than it’s worth.

Time heals all wounds— but a sharp memory had a penchant of reopening them.

(The heat was one of the things he remembered the most. The hot desert son relentlessly bore down on him, sweat sticking to his skin and matting his hair. The air so dry that every inhale parched his throat, and insects buzzed annoyingly around his ear. But all of that— all the discomfort, the heat, the sun, the stress—faded away when Talia—his once-love, once-passion, once the owner of his heart and soul—pulled him aside to whisper in his ears “beloved, I am with child.”

He kissed her there in that cursed desert. And even years later he still remembered the feel of her lips against his. The way that her pulse fluttered beneath his thumb. The slow curl of her smile.)(Another memory: It’s that damn desert again. The moon shone high in the sky, a pale and waning crescent. The sand that was hot to touch in the day was cold beneath his fingertips. The air was still so dry. He is angry at Ra’s, angry at this mission, angry at himself. Then came Talia, face cold and impassive but her eyes rimmed red, her spine rigid but Bruce did not miss the way she angled herself against the doorframe, almost clinging to it. “It’s gone,” she said, simple and straightforward as if she was remarking about the fucking weather. “The baby is gone.”)

(And another: They’re miles beneath the sea, just off the coast of the United Kingdom. The cave is dark and infested with mutant man-bats trying to escape to the surface and their son—their son, arrogant and unexpected but as relentlessly determined as their parents—had run off to fight the world’s most renowned hitman. Talia was not dead, was not captured. She stood waist-deep in the Lazarus pit…waiting.

Then, as if possessed, she dove in. He shouted her name and went in after her. Pulled her back to the surface. The green waters had slipped into her wounds, suturing them closed and seeping its madness into her. Her eyes flickered green. She tore herself from his grip, but then fell limp. He caught her, and as he did saw something that might have looked like tears at the corner of her eyes.)

( A final one:  Reunited and victorious, Damian ran to his mother. But as he came closer his steps slowed, then stopped. Face contorted into confusion. “Where—?”

Talia’s composure broke— but only for a moment. The cracks smoothed themselves away with an exhale. She closed the distance between her and Damian, fingers carding through his hair before coming down his neck and then cupping his face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “He’s gone.”)

He blinked.

Alfred appeared at his side with a cup of warm tea in hand. 

Bruce gave Alfred a grateful look and silently took the cup. He took a sip, long and slow, letting the scent of chamomile calm him, and appreciating the pleasant warmth on his tongue. 

“Alfred,” Bruce said as he rolled back his aching shoulders. “What do you make of him?”

“Master Danny, I presume?” Alfred placed his hands behind his back. “I would not presume to make such judgments when I’ve only met him once. However, I do see a resemblance.”

With a grunt, he sipped his tea. “There’s something strange about him, Alfred.”

“I would say that about all your children, Master Bruce.”

Bruce chuckled. “Can’t argue with you there.”

[ethanct23]

Annotated Bibliography:

Graham, M. (2008). Some thoughts about the philosophical underpinnings of Aboriginal worldviews: [Paper in: The Ecological Humanities]. Australian Humanities Review, 45(45), 181–194.

I used this source when describing my research journal direction. As such, this reference investigates the thoughts and philosophical underpinnings of Aboriginal worldviews. Throughout the journal article, Dr Mary Graham, a well renowned Indigenous figure discusses the need for realisation that our environmental health is paramount to everything that we do. I decided to use Dr Graham’s quote about land being the template for social relations as many Indigenous art pieces rally for change in environmental issues that we are currently seeing in Australia. Moreover, Dr Mary Graham also gives some insight into Indigenous methodology of preserving land in a modern environment for long-term sustainability which can give some valuable insight into the thinking’s of Indigenous artists seeking change through their art.

Richard Bell Embassy: MCA Australia. Welcome to the Museum of Contemporary Art Australia, Sydney. (2021). Retrieved March 21, 2023, from https://www.mca.com.au/artists-works/works/2017.10A-G/

This comes from the Museum of Contemporary Art and discusses Richard Bell’s project ‘Embassy’. Given I plan to delve into Richard Bell’s workings, I believed that this source supplied some valuable information into the rationale and message behind the Embassy project. As such, it gives information as to what the ‘Embassy’ project consists of. Essentially, it is a canvas tent set up which inside documents and articulates discussions that have taken place to address differences in race and politics through talks and performances. As I am investigating if Indigenous art brings us together or tears us apart, it is essential that I explore pieces like the Embassy to see how some of the artistic pieces brings us together to create change.

Brooks, A. (2020). Scratch The Surface. The Island (Part 1). photograph, Sydney; Andrew Brooks. Retrieved from https://rundog.art/the-island-vernon-ah-kee-part-one/.

For me I believed this piece displayed significantly activism seeking change to racist undertones that our country currently exhibits. As explained by Ah Kee himself, The thick plastic shields, scratched by Ah Kee and covered in layers of fine, charcoal line drawings, index the centrality of policing to the maintenance of settler order. The shield signifies a literal and symbolic barrier: the enclosure of whiteness as that which requires protecting at all costs. The title of the work, ‘scratch the surface’, asks us to consider the racist episteme that lies within the invocation of law and order. As such I believe this piece, more than most, seeks to answer my topic area perfectly. It can be seen that Vernon Ah Kee is attempting to bring people together by seeking to abolish social issues that are currently faced.

Allas, T. (2015). Richard Bell Biography. Design and Art Australia Online. Retrieved March 20, 2023, from https://www.daao.org.au/bio/richard-bell/biography/

I decided to use this biography on Richard Bell as it describes his upbringing within Australia and the injustices that he has faced himself as apart of the First Nations community. Specifically, I took away a quote from an interview that is featured in this biography where he stated, “Our work often speaks of contemporary injustices against our people.”. As such, Bell’s own reasoning behind his workings gives great insight into why he does what he does. Ultimately, it can be seen through his art that he is attempting to create betterment for his people with the injustices that they face.

Frost, A. (2017, January 9). Vernon Ah Kee Review – racism and politics dominate show that should not be dismissed. The Guardian. Retrieved March 22, 2023, from https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2017/jan/09/vernon-ah-kee-review-racism-dominates-show-that-should-not-be-missed

A news article produced by the Guardian that explores Vernon Ah Kee’s activism. As I’ll be using Vernon’s work over the course of ABTS2030, it was essential that I explored why exactly he creates what he does. Upon reading this article I found that Vernon Ah Kee’s primary messages behind his work lie in it’s political motivation. Majority if not all of Vernon’s art seeks to explore social issues such as the deaths of First Nations peoples in custody. Vernon Ah Kee is widely followed in the visual art industry with his ability to visualise key social issues that his people face. He seeks to create change through art by highlighting (sometimes) confronting issues that sometimes people are scared to face the reality of.

Thorpe, N. (2017, January 20). 'not an animal or a plant': Putting a human face to 1967 referendum. NITV. Retrieved March 22, 2023, from https://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/article/not-an-animal-or-a-plant-putting-a-human-face-to-1967-referendum/lp7my9wtg

This article explores Vernon Ah Kee’s artwork and his personal belief in the visual art that he produces. Similarly, to Richard Bell, Ah Kee makes mention that when he was born in Australia, he was considered sub-human and like his people were classified under the Fauna and flora act. Specifically, I took away his quote “Not an animal or a plant”, which ultimately, he used as a visual art piece to describe how First Nations have been oppressed in Australia. Similarly, to other Indigenous artists around the world, Vernon uses his artistic approach in an activist manner to create social change. This is one of my key pieces that I have decided to explore.

Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies. (2022, August 8). Art and authenticity. AIATSIS. Retrieved March 23, 2023, from, https://aiatsis.gov.au/explore/art-and-authenticity

This article investigates the common misconception that people have with Aboriginal artwork. It explores the idea that many people in today’s immediately think of “ochre colours and dots” without realising the different mediums used. As such, it explains how Indigenous artwork comes in many forms and portrays many different messages and meanings. Given I am exploring activism through artwork, I found this useful as many of the pieces I have referred to would go over the head of a traditional viewer without any context. As an example, the true message that Richard Bell and Vernon Ah Kee are trying to get across to the viewer through their work.

Commonwealth Parliament; Parliament House, C. (2015, April 24). Chapter 3 - the benefits of Indigenous Art. Home – Parliament of Australia. Retrieved March 23, 2023, from,https://www.aph.gov.au/Parliamentary_Business/Committees/Senate/Environment_and_Communications/Completed_inquiries/2004-07/indigenousarts/report/c03

This chapter produced by the Parliament of Australia explores the benefits of Indigenous arts from multiple perspectives. For example, the art sector, which reaps multiple social, cultural and economic benefits as a result of the artwork. It also makes mention how these benefits directly aid the Indigenous community and wider Australian community to make positive change and help those in rural area’s experiencing the very social issues that these artists are trying to combat. It mentions that Indigenous artwork promotes health and well-being.

Guardian News and Media. (2021, April 14). Big weather: Indigenous artists reflect on climate crisis – in pictures. The Guardian. Retrieved March 23, 2023, from https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/gallery/2021/apr/14/big-weather-indigenous-artists-reflect-on-climate-crisis-in-pictures

From this article I found a very significant visual art piece produced by Karla Dickens. As mentioned in my rationale for this blog, I wished to explore environmental issues that are referenced in Indigenous Art to investigate how the activism brings us together as a wider community. Given this, Dickens produced a piece ‘Not in a sexy way’, which features a vintage fire hydrant with the wording “We are on fire, not in a sexy way”. This is Karla Dickens acknowledging the climate crisis that the world is currently experiencing by highlighting the fact that there are multiple empty promises by world governments to create change with ‘empty’ written on the hose. The piece features stickers from mining companies with dollar signs representing deaths that arise from mining and other harmful industries that lead to the detriment of our environment.

Vernon Ah Kee (born 1967) Austracism. Bonhams. (n.d.). Retrieved March 23, 2023, from https://www.bonhams.com/auction/19376/lot/34/vernon-ah-kee-born-1967-austracism/

Moreover, from what I have already found from Vernon Ah Kee’s collection, I found one of his pieces ‘Austracism’ which I decided to explore further. Ah Kee’s piece in this instance compliments his further collection highlighting the racial divide that is currently prevalent in Australia. Through this he is symbolising that the word ‘Australia’ is built on a history of racism which in many cases, is still occurring today. Ultimately, Ah Kee is taking the activistic approach that outdated thinking towards Indigenous peoples needs to be changed in order to bring all walks of life together.

[pineapple-frenzy]

hello howdy do I'm droppin' in with a redcrackle art request if that's okay? could you do anything winter themed (no pressure ofc)?

anyway whether you decide to do it or not your art is awesome hell yeah

Hihi!! Thanks anon!!

I decided to draw them talking a stroll in the snow with a cup of coffee!!

[spacexcowgirl]

All About The Chase - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N will do anything for her best friend—and crush—Fred Weasley. Even if that means fake dating him so he can catch the eye of her cousin.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: Light swearing, one allusion to sex (blink and you’ll miss it), brief mention of intoxication (again, blink and you’ll miss it), super mean awful cousin, food, a little angsty with a happy ending, 

A/N: For the anon who asked for Fred fake dating his friend to make her relative jealous! I decided to make her the twins age, and I may have went a little overboard with the cousin rivalry, but oh well. Thank you for feeding into my love of cliches! Also, I played around with using third person rather than second, it just felt right for this one. Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

When Y/N was six years old, her parents—well, Santa—got her the most amazing art set. She had always liked to draw, and now she had an array of more colors than she could even really name. When her family was set to head to her Aunt’s house for Christmas dinner, she packed up all of her new markers, a stack of fresh paper, and a few of her drawings she was most proud of to show off.

The night had started wonderfully. She got a few more gifts from her grandparents, a beautiful doll from her aunt and uncle, and enough sweets and candy to last her months. When it was time to finally eat, Y/N left all of her new toys and her cherished art set in her relatives’ living room. Y/N doesn’t remember much about the dinner—why should she? It was a decade prior—but what she does remember vividly is the excitement that bubbled up in her tiny body when her mother suggested she go grab some of her artwork to show off.

Y/N slid out of her chair and raced into the living room. Only when she got there did she find all of her finished art completely destroyed, covered in scribbles from her new markers. Her brows had furrowed and her eyes welled with tears, and that’s when she heard it. The sinister little cackle of her cousin, Annalise. Y/N turned on her heels and saw the girl, uncapped marker in hand, looking at her as if she was the most pitiful thing in the world.

Y/N returned to dinner empty handed, claiming she had forgotten the drawings at home—even though her parents were certain she hadn’t. Annalise returned with an innocent smile and a portrait of their Nan in hand—one Y/N was certain she just made with her markers—and all of the adults cooed and awed at the small girl’s talent.

A few years later, Y/N was set to star in their primary school’s theater production. Looking back, she now recognized that her landing that part had little to do with any real talents she had, and more to do with how adults always seemed to fawn over her. She was always revered as ‘just the cutest little thing!’ Which evidently preceded talent at the ripe age of eight.

Right before she was set to go on stage and deliver her three lines (that’s all a star can really handle so young, right?), she found her angel wings shredded and her halo headband bent in half. The teacher didn’t have any time to fix her costume, so in a fluster she threw out her part all together, and sent Y/N to stand with the rest of the year 3 ensemble. It didn’t take long for Y/N to catch Annalise’s eye amongst the other students, only she was smirking. Y/N had to force her eyes back out onto the crowd and desperately search for her parents to keep herself from bawling on the spot.

As if things couldn’t get any worse between the pair of cousins, when Y/N was ten, her and her parents were astonished to find a letter tucked into their usual mail, accepting her into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The letter gave an answer to the many strange things Y/N had been able to make happen with her emotions alone, and her chest swelled with pride to learn just how special she truly was. Not to mention, this was finally her opportunity to escape Annalise once and for all.

Until, it wasn’t. Y/N didn’t know that Annalise was a witch as well until the two families spotted each other on the platform, preparing to send both of their daughters off. Neither parents had revealed the truths of their daughters abilities to the other prior, because they knew it must be kept with the upmost secrecy. Y/N’s parents and Annalise’s parents were overjoyed to know their little girls wouldn’t be all alone, and they had someone to share their apprehensions with. Y/N and Annalise were far less enthused by the news.

A little over five years later, Y/N sat in the Gryffindor Common room, rifling through beginning of the year work that had already been assigned. In the half-decade since she’d started at Hogwarts, she had managed to avoid Annalise as best she could. It turned out to be somewhat easy, seeing as they were sorted into different house. Still, whenever Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were forced into classes together, Y/N couldn’t help but feel dread pooling in her stomach. Annalise was always sure to make those classes a living hell for her.

Y/N’s attention was pulled from her work from the sound of a small group of people bounding into the common room. She glanced back over the couch, only to see her best friends—Fred and George—laughing and pushing each other around.

“She totally wants me!” Fred argued, a cocky grin alit on his face.

“Oh, please, she hates your guts, mate.” George teased back.

Fred looked as if he were about to respond, until his eyes met Y/N’s across the room. A more genuine smile found its way onto his face as he tugged his brother towards the couch, then plopped down next to her. George then took a seat in one of the chairs across from them. Y/N neatly gathered her work into a pile, knowing for certain there was no way she would make any progress with them around.

“Y/N, will you please tell my dear brother that your cousin is absolutely mad for me, she just has a different way of showing it?” Fred threw his arm lazily around the back of the couch, right behind her, as he looked at her expectantly.

Y/N couldn’t help the sour mood that the conversation immediately put her in. There was two reasons for this; one, the most obvious, any topic that involved Annalise always brought her down. She couldn’t help it, and she tried not to hate the girl, but everything about her was draining. The second reason was that Y/N was absolutely head over heels for Fred. She had been ever since he pranked Graham Montague for making her cry in third year. The idea of Fred and Annalise together was truly the epitome of her worst nightmare.

“I don’t know, she might really just hate you.” Y/N shrugged, doing her best to keep her voice even and her face straight. Her words caused Fred to scowl and George to erupt into fits of laughter.

“Oh come on, not you too!” Fred whined as he threw his head back. 

“What do you even see in her anyways?” Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to the question, but she couldn’t help but ask it. 

“Well, she’s quite fit.” This answer earned a swift slap to the arm from Y/N, which only made Fred snicker. “And!” He continued, persistent to point out that looks weren’t all he cared about. “She’s feisty, and smart. And, she acts completely not interested in me.”

“So that’s why you like her?” Y/N snorted.

“Ah, dearest Y/N, one day you’ll learn that it’s all about the chase.” Fred began to twiddle some of her hair between his fingers.

“There’s plenty of girls who aren’t interested in you! You could ‘chase’ any of them.” Y/N reasoned, batting his hand away.

“You’ve got that right.” George snorted, causing his brother to shoot him a glare.

“Well, even if that were true, I’ve got my sights set on her.” Fred shrugged.

“Well, if you really want Annalise to go out with you, you should just date me.” Y/N teased as she sat forward, beginning to pluck through her papers once again. When no one laughed or responded, she quickly shot her eyes up. “I’m only kidding.”

“No, no that could work.” Fred sat up abruptly and pointed a finger towards her. “Y/N, you’re a genius!”

“I’m really not.” Y/N shook her head quickly. “That might breach the list of dumbest things I’ve ever said.”

“Yeah, right, don’t forget we’ve been around you drunk, Y/L/N. That doesn’t even make the top ten.” George grinned at her, but her nerves kept her from even smiling at his little joke.

Y/N was growing desperate now, because neither of the twins were brushing off her silly joke. Fred was looking at her as if she just handed him the key to solve all of his problems, and George was doing nothing to tame his brother. Y/N glanced expectantly between the two of them as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Come on, what better way to make her jealous than to see me dating her cousin?”

Y/N had mentioned on occasion the way that Annalise always had to ruin everything for her as a child, but never in full detail. Some part of her knew if she had just been transparent about how truly awful the girl had treated her, Fred would never give Annalise a second glance. But now, he thought they were nothing more than cousins with a small childhood rivalry, and for that he could justify going after her.

“Please, Y/N,” Fred got down on his knees in front of her, dawning his best puppy dog eyes, and put his hands in a pleading gesture. “Be my fake girlfriend for a month—two, tops.”

Y/N chewed harder on her bottom lip as she gazed at him, already feeling her reluctance slipping away. She could never say no to him, especially when he looked so adorable. Y/n breathed out a sigh and dropped her head to look at her folded hands in her lap. All thoughts of self preservation and protecting her heart went out the door; she knew she would say yes to him.

“Fine.” Her voice was quiet, so much so that it took Fred a second to make sure he had heard her properly. 

“Really? Just like that? I was about to start bribing you with sugar quills and a month of Herbology homework—”

“Well, if you’re offering—”

“Nope, too late. You agreed before I had to.” Fred grinned at the girl before swooping in and placing a kiss on her cheek. “Now, let’s set up some ground rules.”

Fred began to drone on about what they would and wouldn’t do. Things like holding hands in the corridors, sitting close at meals, kisses on the cheeks and forehead. Which pet names they would and wouldn’t use. Number one, though, was no kissing on the lips. 

Y/N only listened halfheartedly as Fred rambled on, offering a slight head nod ever now and then to show she was in agreement. As Y/N thought over just what she had gotten herself into, she realized the next few weeks were going to be awful.

-

It didn’t take long for rumors of Fred and Y/N’s budding romance to swirl. She often found herself walking hand in hand with him through the corridors, light whispers trailing behind them. Often times, people she had hardly ever spoken to would come up to her and gush about how they always just knew Fred and her would be perfect together. Y/N would always politely smile, then wonder if they could hear her heartbreaking as loudly as she could.

To make matters worse, Fred was the perfect ‘boyfriend.’ Just as she always assumed he would be. He’d carry her books in one arm, swing their intertwined hands with the other, and walk her to each of her classes. At night, he’d sit with her in the library while she poured over her notes for the day—even though she knew he wanted nothing more than to be out pranking with George and Lee. She adored all of the extra time they were getting to spend together, until she’d remember that it was only temporary, and if he were lucky, he’d be doing all of these things with Annalise in a month.

It wasn’t until about three weeks into their agreement that Annalise approached her. Fred had walked her to potions that day, like he always did. He was making her laugh loudly, not caring at all about the many eyes upon them.

“It’s a wonder your mum didn’t ship you and George off when you were toddlers,” Y/n snorted. “It sounds like you two were menaces.”

“Oh, we were.” Fred nodded, a small grin on his face. “But I reckon we were the cutest babies she had so far, so she kept us around.”

Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes before nudging him lightly with her shoulder. They had finally made it to the potions classroom, so it was time for them to part. Fred handed her back her books and dropped her hand, but didn’t walk away until he had placed a soft kiss to her temple.

“Meet you outside of here after to walk to lunch?” He confirmed, but there was no need. It was the routine they had fallen into.

“Mhm.” Y/N gazed up at him, unable to contain the giddy smile on her lips. With that, he turned and began walking down the hallway, but not before shooting her a wink over his shoulder.

Y/N watched his retreating figure, a lovesick grin plastered to her face. Just when she had pulled herself from her daydreams and was about to enter the classroom, she ran hard into a firmly planted body.

“So, you and Weasley are pretty serious then, huh?” Annalise stood with her hands on her hips, a look that read as both disgust and amusement riddled on her face.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Y/N quickly recovered, hugging her books closer to her chest. This year, she had more classes with Annalise than any year prior, seeing as they both received a significant amount of O.W.L.s.

“Hm.” Annalise’s eyes trailed down the hallway where Fred had once been, before letting them snap back to Y/N. “Don’t know how you managed that.”

Y/N felt her blood run cold, but couldn’t find the energy within her to talk any further. So, she simply brushed past Annalise and into the classroom, ignoring the scoff that left Annalise’s lips when she pushed her out of the way. Y/N found her usual seat in the back and trained her eyes ahead, careful to keep her expression calm. That was, until Annalise slid into the seat next to her.

“What are you doing?” Y/N gaped at her. It wasn’t like they had assigned seats, but Y/N had always sat next to Patricia Stimpson. The girl was constantly fussing and nervous, always afraid to make a wrong move, but she certainly wasn’t the worst person Y/N could be stuck with.

“Asked Stimpson to trade seats.” Annalise shrugged nonchalantly, before a wicked grin grew on her face. “Figured we could get some good, cousin, bonding time.”

Y/N wanted to groan, but then Snape was gliding into the room and silencing everyone. She was certain this would be the longest lecture of her life.

-

When the class ended, Y/N didn’t wait for Fred outside. Instead, she had pushed up from her seat and hurried through the corridors, skipping lunch entirely to go wallow in her dorm room. Annalise had made the lecture a living hell, whether it be from snide comments she’d whisper over or by purposefully ruining their potion, then blaming it on Y/N. Internally, she cursed Fred—although it wasn’t really his fault—for putting her in the position to be in Annalise’s line of fire once again.

Y/N ended up avoiding Fred the rest of the day, scurrying between classes before he could find her. When she was finally done for the day, she wanted nothing more than to hide out in her dorm and cry. That’s exactly what she had started doing, too, before her door creeped open.

Y/N held her breath, assuming it was either Angelina or Alicia coming back before dinner. But, when her mattress dipped slightly from the weight of someone sitting down, she quickly spun around, coming face to face with Fred.

“Darling,” He cooed. It was a nickname he had taken to calling her ever since they started ‘dating,’ although no one was around now, and he was still using it. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

“How’d you get in here?” Y/N croaked, avoiding his question entirely.

“Figured out how to get past the charm ages ago.” Fred rested a gentle hand on her knee. “Then, Ang gave me her key. Said she saw you run up her. So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? And why’ve you been avoiding me all day?”

At that, Y/N lost it once again. Tears began streaming down her face freely, and she quickly sat up and accepted Fred’s opened arms. He raked his fingers through her messy hair and let her cry on his shoulder, gently soothing her to a place where she’d be able to speak.

“It’s just…” It was on the tip of her tongue. Y/N wanted desperately to tell him the truth about how awful Annalise truly was. But, just like when she was younger and never ratted Annalise out, she just couldn’t now. She didn’t know why it was, but it always felt like if she spoke the words out loud, then Annalise had won. “I’ve just had an awful day.”

“Snape will do that to you.” Fred tutted, clearly assuming her change in behavior post-potions was brought on by the professor. “I’m sorry, love.”

Y/N sniffled a few more times into his shoulder, wishing desperately that he was holding her in a way that wasn’t platonic. She craved nothing more than for him to want her like she’d always wanted him. But that seemed to be just a fantasy. The muggle fairytales she had been told growing up weren’t real, and the wicked witch was winning.

“Why don’t we go for a walk, get some fresh air?” Fred pulled back to look over her face, concern filled in his eyes. 

“But, you’re missing dinner…” 

“Eh, the house elves love me. I’ll just sneak down to the kitchens and grab something later.” Fred shrugged, a small smile now growing on his face. “You and me, we can make a whole night of it. I’ll sneak some snacks up and we can watch one of those old muggle movies you love so much.”

While Y/N was far from being completely okay, the tenderness he was exhibiting towards her made her heart swell. She knew he had plans with George and Lee that night, some big prank on a few Slytherins, but here he was, throwing it all away for her. He gently reached out and cupped her cheek, brushing a few stray tears away with his thumb. Y/N avoided his eyes, afraid that they would communicate all of the non-platonic love she felt for him, then nodded.

“Perfect.” Fred grinned before jumping up and extended his hand out to her. “Well, let’s go.”

Fred guided her the whole way out of the castle, keeping her close as they walked through the grounds. The autumn air was cool, and at the very second that Y/N shivered, Fred was wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. 

They walked around and talked for a little over an hour, giddy smiles on their faces all the while. Fred made her laugh so hard she abandoned all thoughts of Annalise, her mind completely filled with the tall red head beside her. He just had this way about him that could make anything that was possibly wrong seem miniscule. He reminded her of everything good in the world.

Once the sun was fully down and the temperature had dropped significantly, the two could no longer justify being outside in the cold. Fred made a show of wrapping her hands in his own, rubbing them together to bring her some warmth, before guiding her back to the castle.

They parted ways shortly, just so Fred could sneak into the kitchens and Y/N could get the movie set up in the common room. She laid out a few blankets and pillows then pushed the couch back a bit, thankful that it was a Wednesday night and most students seemed to have already gone to bed. When Fred returned, he handed Y/N a plate of food then sat down cross-legged beside her, balancing his own plate in his lap.

Y/N started the movie and dug into her food, giggling lightly at Fred’s ravenous way of eating. He had certainly been hungry earlier, but she needed him, so evidently he pushed his hunger aside. When their plates were finished, they stacked them neatly on the table behind them, before completely turning their attention to the movie.

“Okay, wait, who’s the green girl again?” Fred questioned as he pointed towards the screen, brows furrowed.

“If you would pay attention, you would know.” Y/N giggled. “She’s the Wicked Witch of The West.”

“She’s supposed to be a witch?” Fred crinkled up his nose, confusion clear on his face. “I don’t know any green witches.”

“It’s a muggle movie, Fred.” Y/N lightly rolled her eyes.

“And who’s she?”

“Glinda, the good witch.”

“Okay, I definitely know witches don’t dress like that.” Fred teased, eyeing the woman on the screen’s frilly pink dress

“Maybe I should start.” Y/N giggled, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Think I could pull it off?”

“Darling, you’d look beautiful in anything.” Fred winked at her, causing her face to heat up. Some part of her knew it was nothing more than harmless joking, but she couldn’t help the way he lit something alive within her. 

“Ya think?” Y/N scooted a bit closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder so he couldn’t see her giddy smile.

“I know.” His voice was soft, and the two of them remained quiet for the next few scenes of the movie.

At some point, the two of them had shifted to lay down in order to get more comfortable on the floor. Fred was laying on his back with one hand behind his head, the other resting idly in between them. Y/N was sprawled out on her stomach, her face down by his feet. Every little bit her eyes would light up and she’d glance back to tell him that her favorite part was coming up, only for him to realize that every part seemed to be her favorite part. Still, he never pointed that out, but instead just smiled fondly at her and nodded.

“Ugh.” Y/N grimaced, a slight shiver running down her spine. “Those monkeys always terrified me when I was little.”

“Oh yeah?” Fred sat up now, leaning closer to her. “You scared now?”

“Psh, no.” Y/N rolled her eyes and glanced back over at him, only to find him slowly inching towards her. She pointed a finger out warningly. “Fred, don’t.”

It was no use, Fred’s hands latched themselves to her sides and began tickling her feverishly. Y/N squealed and tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but it was no use. In the process, she had flipped over onto her back and was now kicking her legs out, trying to get him to stop, but that only egged him on further.

“You sure you’re not scared, Y/L/N?” Fred teased. “I could comfort you, if you were.”

“Freddie! Stop!” Y/N breathed out, tears beginning to pool in her eyes from her laughter.

Y/N now had the front of his jumper balled in her fists, trying desperately to get him to stop. After another minute, he did, and her wriggling ceased. Still, he loomed over top of her while she gripped onto his jumper tightly. Both of them were silent as they stared into each other’s eyes, faces only inches apart. For half a second, Y/N swore she saw Fred’s eyes flicker down to her lips, but then she convinced herself she must have dreamed it.

The sounds of the movie seemed to draw them back to the present, and Y/N let go of Fred’s jumper, causing him to sit up. She followed suit, clearing her throat in hopes of easing the tension between them. Fred was never one to let any awkwardness linger, so he nudged her with his elbow before laying back down in the spot he had been before.

“Cuddle up, Y/N. I’ll keep you safe from the big scary winged monkeys.” He winked as he opened his arms for her.

Y/N rolled her eyes lightly, trying desperately to calm the nerves in her stomach, before obliging and cuddling into his side. She let her head rest on his chest, her hand placed just over his heart, as he tightened his arm around her. Y/N found that she couldn’t pay attention to the rest of the movie, what with Fred pulling a blanket up around them and gently stroking her hair. She was lulled to sleep by the action, finding that she wished every night, she could fall asleep in his arms.

The two were startled awake the next morning by a bout of loud laughter. As Y/N quickly sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she spotted George, fully dressed in his school uniform, gazing down at them with an amused grin. Fred groaned from where he still laid on the floor, pulling a pillow over his face to block out the light.

“And what’s this?” George cocked his head to the side. “You guys are really taking this ‘fake dating’ thing pretty seriously. Honestly, you’ve got me convinced.”

Fred shot up quickly at that, nervously looking around the common room to make sure no one heard. When he realized it was only the three of them, he let out a breath of relief.

“Come off it, will you? We just fell asleep after watching a movie.” Fred shot his brother a glare.

Y/N felt sick at the reminder that everything between them was fake. Every little moment she had foolishly convinced herself could mean something more was nothing but wishful thinking. Drawing in a deep sigh, Y/N forced herself up and gestured for Fred to move with a flick of her wand. Once he obliged, she flicked her wand again and gathered all of the blankets and pillows before pushing the couch back. Without another word, she stalked back up the steps to her dorm, and prepared herself for another long day.

-

When Y/N arrived to the potions classroom, her stomach dropped at the sight of Annalise once again in the seat next to her usual one. She gazed around the room, grumbling slightly when she realized she had no other choice but to sit next to the girl. 

“Wow, you look like hell.” Annalise sneered when she trudged over.

“Probably because I was up all night with Fred.” Y/N shot back, before truly registering her words. “Not… Not like that.”

Annalise snorted at the insinuation and rolled her eyes. It seemed she was about to say something, no doubt some snide comment, but was cut off by Snape walking into the room. Y/N straightened up and began to listen to the professor drone on, her stomach twisting in knots when she realized what that day’s lecture would entail. A cauldron sat at the front of the classroom, an alluring steam rising off of it. Y/N knew, it was Amortentia.

After giving a brief lecture on it, Snape used his wand to lift the cauldron in the air, slowly letting it stop by each desk for the students to gaze at. He appeared completely uninterested by the kids’ excitement from what they smelled. Finally, it arrived at Y/N and Annalise’s table.

Y/N leaned forward and took a breath in, her nose being filled with the scent of fireworks, chocolate, and the shampoo Fred used. She sat back in her seat and crossed her arms, not needing the reminder that she felt so deeply for someone who didn’t return her affections.

Annalise leaned forward and breathed in a deep breath, a dreamy smile gracing her face. Her eyes flickered towards the front of the classroom, finding Snape deep in conversation with another Ravenclaw student. Quickly, she pulled an empty glass bottle from her bag and dipped it into the cauldron, filling it entirely.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N hissed, sitting up abruptly.

“I’m gonna use it as perfume. So everyone smells what they’re attracted to on me, and wants to be around me.” Annalise shrugged, placing a cork on the bottle and sliding it back into her bag. Y/N knew she could get in loads of trouble for carrying such a dangerous and potent potion, yet she didn’t speak up to turn her in. “Professor Snape, we’re all done back here!”

And with that, Snape was whisking the cauldron away and carrying on with his lecture. Y/N watched Annalise out of the corner of her eye, certain she was up to something from the glint in her eye. Still, like always, she stayed silent.

-

A week later, all thoughts of Annalise’s odd behavior had completely left Y/N’s mind. She was so caught up in falling for Fred even more each day, she could hardly focus on anything else. The fact that he hadn’t brought up Annalise once since their movie night didn’t go unnoticed to her, and she found herself chasing the familiar hope that maybe he was starting to fall for her too.

“I’ve gotta catch up with Georgie and Lee—they’re still mad I ditched them last week.” Fred informed her as he finished his dinner. “Catch you later?”

She nodded, a bright smile lighting up her face when he swooped down and kissed her cheek before hurrying off. Y/N was so in a daze that she didn’t even notice someone slide in the seat beside her, occupying the space Fred was once in.

“Ah, so you two are still together, are you?” Annalise spoke up, making her presence known. She wore a devilish grin as she feigned a casual act, picking at her nails.

“Obviously.” Y/N rolled her eyes. 

“What a shame, I just hate to be the one to tell you this.” She sighed.

“Tell me what?” Y/N’s brows furrowed as she turned to look at Annalise full on.

“Well, I’ve been wearing my perfume, you see.” She craned her neck and circled her hand, gesturing for Y/N to lean in and take a whiff. The smell was undeniable, and as much as she hated being in the presence of her cousin, it kept her reeled in. “Smell Freddie, do you?”

“Why do you care?” Y/N gritted her teeth, hating the way his nickname sounded coming from her mouth.

“Because, he doesn’t smell you.” Annalise shrugged. “In fact, what was it he told me he smelled? Right, fresh ink, my peach shampoo, and… Oh, I can’t remember. It was so hard to pay attention while he was snogging me in that broom closet.”

Y/N instantly dropped the utensils in her hand, ignoring the way they clattered to the ground. The sound drew a few eyes towards them, and Annalise simply smirked at her cousin. Y/N could feel tears welling behind her eyes, but she was also angry. At Fred, for not just telling her that he had finally gotten what he wanted. And at Annalise, for always being so dead set on ruining everything for her.

“What did I ever do to you?” Y/N heard her voice crack, and she felt just as pathetic as Annalise wanted her to feel. When she spoke again, her tone increased significantly. “Why must you always ruin everything for me?”

Some part of her knew she shouldn’t be freaking out, because this had always been the plan. She knew Annalise could never let anything be hers, so she should simply take it in stride and move on. But she couldn’t. She had been so sure that Fred and her were starting to build something real, that she’d finally be with the boy she’d crushed on for years, and now all of that hope was shattered.

“I’m just being a good cousin.” Annalise slapped a hand to her chest, feigning some sort of dignity that she certainly didn’t have. “Really, he was bound to cheat on you at some point. I just made it happen sooner rather than later. You should be thanking me.”

Y/N reached for her wand and gripped it tightly in her fist, ready to point it at her and fire off whatever hex came to mind. In an instant, fear was in Annalise’s eyes and she was cowering back. Professor McGonagall was now rushing forward, shouting her surname and ordering her to stop. In response, Y/N lowered her wand and wiped at her eyes, forcing none of her tears to fall.

“You know what, you’re not even worth it.”

And with that, she was marching out of the Great Hall, ignoring any calls of her name.

-

When Y/N made it back to the common room, she found George, Lee, and Fred gathered around a small table in the corner. A few other students were littered throughout the room, as well. Y/N almost just stormed right up to her dorm, intent on never speaking to Fred again, but she was sick of always letting people treat her like rubbish. So, right as she made it to the base of the steps, she turned on her heels and marched to their table, causing all of their eyes to fall on her.

“Hello, love—”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” She shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Fred. “Godric, I know I agreed to help the two of you get together, but cheating on me? Leaving me embarrassed in front of the whole school? What is wrong with you?”

Lee and George glanced at each other with wide eyes before signally towards their steps and quietly sneaking away. This left Fred in open-mouthed shock, gaping at Y/N in all of her fury.

“I don’t know what—”

“And don’t even tell me how it wasn’t really cheating, because we weren’t really together, I know. But the rest of the school doesn’t know that! Annalise doesn’t know that! And now you’ve fed directly into her only wish of making my life utterly horrible.” Y/N fumed, although her hands were shaking slightly. “So, congrats Fred. You finally got the girl. And Annalise got what she wanted, too. Looks like you two are perfect for each other.”

After saying her piece, she quickly turned around and began making her way back towards her steps. She ignored the many sets of bewildered eyes on her, too angry and hurt to even care. She was only stopped by the feeling of Fred gripping onto her wrist and spinning her back around to face him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Fred searched her eyes. “I didn’t cheat on you, fake or not.”

“But—” 

“Annalise yanked me into a broom closet earlier, asking me to smell her neck like a bloody lunatic. So, I did, because I’m always enticed by strange offers.” He quipped with a smile, but when Y/N shot him a pointed look, he became serious once again. “Not the time? Right, okay. So, I smelled her, and I asked if she cornered me in there just to tell me she nicked your perfume, and she got all huffy, so I left. I didn’t cheat on you. I didn’t even mention it because it was too weird to explain.”

“You…” The words got caught in Y/N’s throat, all of her anger leaving her body. “You smelled my perfume?”

“Yeah, and faintly my mum’s roast, but I didn’t question it.” Fred shrugged. “Why?”

Y/N slowly raised a hand up to her mouth, gazing between where his hand still held her wrist and his eyes. Fred had never been very good at potions, so she knew just saying Annalise was wearing ‘Amortentia’ would explain very little.

“She was wearing a love potion, Fred.” Y/N spoke up, much quieter than before. “You smell what you’re attracted to in it.”

In an instant, Fred’s face was a bright shade of red and he quickly dropped her wrist. His eyes dipped down as he avoided her gaze, and Y/N realized this was the first time she’d ever seen him nervous.

“I…” Fred struggled to find words. “I don’t—I mean, I do… But I didn’t want you to—”

“Ask me what I smell in mine.” Y/N urged, cutting off his rambling. Fred shot his head back up at that, looking at her quizzically. 

“What do you smell in yours?” There was a hopeful glint behind his eyes, though his words were soft.

“Fireworks, chocolate…” Y/N took a step closer to him. “And your shampoo.”

The second that Fred fully registered what her words meant, he was closing the distance between the two of them. Y/N let out a shocked giggle as he wrapped her up in his arms, pressing his lips fully to hers for the first time. Although she had seen fireworks before, and she had smelled them almost every time Fred and George were around, neither compared to what it was like to feel fireworks. Y/N’s arms wound around his neck as she pulled him closer to her, prepared to live in the moment forever if she could.

When they pulled apart, there was nothing left either of them had to say. Fred could apologize for putting her through hell for the past few weeks, and Y/N could apologize for being so harsh, but that didn’t matter to either of them at the moment. All that mattered, was they both finally realized what had always been right in front of them.

-

Very early on in the start of Y/N and Fred’s real relationship, she finally opened up to him about just how awful Annalise really was. His jaw clenched at everything she told him, and he quickly expressed that he never would’ve wanted to be with her had he known. Y/N assured him she didn’t care, because this time, Annalise truly lost.

Although Y/N had been quick to brush off her feud with her cousin, telling Fred it was best to just leave it alone, she couldn’t say she was surprised when she walked into the Great Hall one morning, finding Annalise cowering at her table with neon green hair. It was the exact shade she had used when they were six to ruin Y/N’s drawing. While Fred and George vehemently denied any involvement in the prank, Y/N simply placed a short kiss to Fred’s lips, and quietly thanked him.

TAGS: @theweasleysredhair @letsgotothehop​ @wand3ringr0s3 @sarcasticallywitty15​

[riversofmars]

i wonder if you might do a story on river/13 going to a gay bar in space and they meet a bunch of previous companions/friends there too? (definitely jack for sure!) thanks

Okay first off, I love this prompt!! And it’s perfect for Pride month! I may, however, have taken some liberties and gone a bit bigger than a simple gay bar.... anyway :D I set out to write the gayest thing you’ll read all month... I hope I’ve succeeded! Happy Pride!

Invitation With A Kiss

“So what is this place, Doc?“ Graham asked as they made their way to the door of the TARDIS.

“Had an invitation!“ The Doctor retorted with a grin double-checking her psychic paper to make sure she had the right place and time.

“Who from?“ Yaz asked curiously.

“Ah, well, you know…“ The Doctor tried to wave it off but Yaz was quick enough to snatch the psychic paper from her fingers before she could try to hide it.

“Signed with a kiss?“ Yaz gaped and a wide grin spread across her features. Finally something to truly wind their friend up with and Ryan smirked as well:

“You sure you want us to tag along?“

“Oh, shut up, it’s not exactly a private party.“ The Doctor huffed trying to hide the blush that crept onto her cheeks. Quickly, she opened the door before any of her friends could comment and stepped outside.

“Oh wow, I don’t think I have words for this…“ Yaz started laughing as she joined the Doctor. They found themselves at the side of a most colourful parade. There were rainbows EVERYWHERE! Balloons, confetti, flags, people were dancing, hugging, kissing, having the time of their lives. “Please tell me this is…“

“Planet Pride.“ The Doctor grinned and put her hands on her hips as she took in the atmosphere. It was elating. There was a mild breeze that carried music and exotic smells, the sun was blazing down but not unpleasantly and the joy surrounding them was almost palpable. “Think of your 21st century Pride celebrations, multiply it by, I don’t know, a whole galaxy celebrating togetherness and inclusivity, and you get the greatest queer party this side of the universe.“ The Doctor turned to her friends who were still in awe.

“Isn’t this like… the future?“ Yaz finally found her voice and looked to the Doctor who was surprised to find concern in her eyes: “Is there a need for Pride still? Like I would have thought the issue would long be resolved and…“

“Oh it is, don’t worry!“ The Doctor grinned as she understood what she was getting at. “Doesn’t erase the past though. It’s part of the history of humankind… very sad, pointless, stupid part, but history nonetheless. Can’t and shouldn’t erase history, else you can’t learn from past mistakes… But let’s face it, Pride is brilliant. By this point it’s just an excuse to have one hell of a party.“ She pushed her hands into her pockets and they started walking down the street.

“This is brilliant.“ The Fam quickly found themselves accessorised by strangers, flower garlands and all sorts of amusing party hats were being passed out.

“Who’s the invite from, then?“ Ryan asked as they quickly caught up with the Doctor who was looking around the sea of people, clearly searching for someone.

“My wife.“ The Doctor answered knowing full well that there was no way she could keep it from them. She stopped and gnawed her bottom lip as she scanned the crowd. Where was she? Like she stood a chance of finding her amongst all these people…

“Your what now?“ Graham’s face fell and he nearly ran into her.

“Wife.“ The Doctor retorted matter-of-factly looking back to her friends. “We’re here to celebrate Pride, remember?“

“Yes but… you’re married?!“ Yaz exclaimed and carried on teasingly: “Who would agree to that?!“

“Well, we have always wondered that at one point or another…“ A voice sounded behind them and they all whirled around.

“Jack!“ The Fam exclaimed in unison as Captain Jack Harkness saluted with a grin.

“Hello, Doctor.“ He scooped the Doctor up in a tight hug who squeaked as the air was pushed from her lungs. “Fancy seeing you here! Are you ready for a party?“

“Hello Jack.“ She managed as she tried to extricate herself from his arms. “Bit too much to drink already?“ Jack ignored her comment and turned to the Fam, extending his arms.

“Ryan. Yaz. … Graham.“ He winked at Graham who blushed a little. Jack’s flirting was not lost on him or anyone else for that matter. “Missed me?“ He grinned. “Did you come here to see me?“

“While I knew you’d be here, no, not exactly.“ The Doctor retorted, trying to let him down gently.

“Well, that’s just as well.“ Jack huffed, trying not to look too offended. “I’m here with a Doctor of my own anyway. Though I seem to have lost him… and Donna just keeps trying to pass me drink after drink so…“

“You’re here with me? And Donna?“ The Doctor’s eyes widened in shock.

“There’s another version of you here?“ Yaz asked, utterly confused. The Doctor had told them plenty of times about how she had been a different person before and how Time Lords could regenerate their body, but they had never actually seen proof of it.

“And I don’t remember it… timelines crossing…“ The Doctor realised running her hands through her hair nervously. There was potential for disastrous chaos here.

“Doctor?“ A voice called and they all looked around. The girl that had called out wasn’t looking at them though, she was scanning the crowd and turned to another girl whose hand she was holding. “He must be here somewhere, that’s his TARDIS over there.“ They were searching for the Doctor too.

“Well, I’ve got a Doctor here if you’re looking for one!“ Jack called out without thinking. He didn't know the girls but the look on the Doctor’s face revealed that she did. She was simply too stunned to respond just yet. The girls looked at Jack who waved with a wide grin. “I think you mean to say: Her TARDIS. Times change!“

“Bill…“ The Doctor finally found her voice again as she stared at her long lost friend. There she was. Brilliant, beautiful Bill Potts. Cyberman no longer, holding on to her girlfriend’s hand and shock painted all over her face as the realisation hit her.

“Oh my GOD!“ Bill exclaimed, frozen to the spot.

“And Heather.“ The Doctor was beginning to grin now and hurried over.

“You have to be joking!“ Bill was still in shock, she shook her head to herself as the Doctor came to a halt in front of her with the Fam and Jack following close behind.

“Hello Bill!“ The Doctor smirked, amused by how her brain was reeling. “What? Not even a hug?“ She chuckled as Bill was finally pulled from her stupor.

“I really don't think I should hug you…“ Bill found her voice at last as she looked her up and down. “Cause you’re like… dead hot right now…“ She glanced at Heather who just laughed. “But also, you’re my weird space grandpa! So come here!“ She pulled the Doctor in a tight hug laughing.

“Fam, this is my friend Bill and her girlfriend Heather.“ The Doctor introduced them all.

“Lovely to meet you.“ Heather smiled. “I have a feeling you will be seeing quite a few familiar faces.“ She told the Doctor with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, it’ll get complicated when you run into yourself…“ Bill grinned, amused at the very prospect of it.

“He’s here, too?“ The Doctor’s face fell. Things were bound to get even more complicated with two of her former regenerations around!

“Well yeah, we were looking for him, lost him somewhere along the way…“ Bill explained. “Oh God…“

“What?“ The Doctor frowned, alarmed at the dread in her friend’s voice.

“Quickly, hide!“ She pulled the Doctor and Heather behind a make-shift beach bar that served all sorts of colourful cocktails. The other’s mirrored their actions. While they didn’t know what was going on, it seemed like the right course of action.

“Bill, what…“ The Doctor started to protest but forgot where she was going with it when her eyes fell on two very familiar people, making their way towards the bar.

“I really don’t know why you insisted on coming here.“ Missy gave a huff as they came within earshot.

“Why not? It’s fun.“ Clara retorted, amused at the displeasure on the Time Lady’s face.

“I don’t see what’s so exciting about drawing rainbows on your face and parading around the street.“ Missy rather stood out in her almost completely black outfit.

“Humour me.“ Clara retorted, who - in her colourful waitress uniform - looked the complete opposite. “I’ll make it worth your while.“ She looped her arm around Missy’s.

“You better.“ Missy pursed her lips, looking to the girl at her side, then continued to scan the crowd.

“If you didn’t want to come, why did you?“ Clara asked and scoffed as Missy paid her little attention and kept looking around: “You’re hoping the Doctor will be here, aren’t you. And here I was thinking you actually wanted to spend time with me.“

“Doctor, who are they?“ Yaz whispered to the Doctor, struggling to follow what was going on. Those two women clearly knew her and the Doctor seemed to know them too as all colour had drained from her face.

“Doctor, what do you want to do?“ Bill whispered to her but she didn’t respond, she was transfixed.

“Don’t get me wrong, Clara, dear, I enjoy a booty call as much as the next Time Lady.“ Missy smirked, looking back to Clara. “Particularly one where my sweet little plaything is intoxicated on sweet drinks and self righteousness but if I just happen to run into the Doctor and get the opportunity to kill him, that would be a two birds one stone kind of scenario. Particularly if I get to mortally embarrass him by putting you in a rather compromising position first.“ Missy ran her fingertips along Clara’s jaw, pushing her head up a little.

“Right, that’s it!“ The Doctor exclaimed. “Clara!“ She called, marching out of their hiding place.

“Huh?“ Clara and Missy looked around confused, annoyed at the moment being so rudely interrupted.

“Oh God…“ Bill groaned and they all rushed after the Doctor.

“Sorry dear, this is a private conversation, pick a number and I’ll get to you in a sec.“ Missy gave a dismissive wave of her hand, refocusing her attention on Clara but the Doctor wouldn’t have it.

“Missy, get your hands off her right now!“ The Doctor threatened.

“Who’s this, Doctor?“ Yaz asked, hoping for an explanation.

“Doctor?“ Missy raised her eyebrows, her lips pulling into a smirk.

“Doctor?“ Clara echoed, surprised, excited and embarrassed in equal measures.

“What are you doing with her??“ The Doctor demanded to know off Clara as she wildly gestured at her nemesis.

“My my my, isn’t this some sight. Finally had the upgrade as well?“ Missy ignored the comment as she regarded her childhood friend’s new body. She snaked her arm around Clara and pulled her close to her side.

“Missy!“ The Doctor growled. “Get away from her!“

“Why?“ Missy feigned innocence and hurt. “She asked me here? She wants me here. You could even say she wants me .“ She gave a triumphant smirk and the Doctor flushed scarlet with embarrassment and anger.

“Clara, is that…“

“Uhhh…“ Clara blushed even more deeply than the Doctor herself.

“Does anyone else feel like they're slightly out of the loop?“ Ryan piped up, trying to make sense of the situation in front of them. For whatever reason, the Doctor was interrupting what looked like a perfectly consensual, happy date…

“This is the Master.“ The Doctor spat angrily. “Earlier version… don’t let the lipstick fool you, just as deadly.“

“Lipstick makes for a wonderful weapon, particularly in the right hands. Just ask your lovely wife.“ Missy retorted with a smile. “Where is she, by the way? You’re not here single , are you?“ She tightened the grip on Clara for emphasis.

“Missy!“ Clara slapped the Time Lady’s shoulder. “Come on, we’re all here to have some fun, can’t we just do that.“

“I can have fun with you anywhere I like.“ Missy smirked, moving her hand lower to the hem of her skirt, just enough to make the Doctor nearly lose it. “Fine. Alright.“ She let go of her. “Be a good little puppy now and fetch me a drink then.“ She smirked at the Doctor who balled her hands to tight fits, looking like she was about to burst. Missy laying her hands on one of her friends like that was just too much.

“Anyone else for a cocktail?“ Clara turned back to the group, hoping to move to conversation along to where she wouldn’t be mortally embarrassed in front of her best friend.

“I’ll help you carry.“ Heather volunteered quickly following Clara to the bar.

“So the Master used to be a woman?“ Graham exclaimed at last, when the situation seemed to have defused a little.

“Spoilers.“ Missy tutted at him.

“This is going to get very complicated with everyone here.“ The Doctor had to agree. “You can’t reveal anything about anyone’s future or we could be ripping space and time apart.“

“Yes, this is quite the explosive combination.“ Missy had to concede as she regarded the Doctor’s entourage. “Which begs the question, Doctor, what brings you here? Other than the rainbow candy floss?“

“River invited me.“ The Doctor shot back, almost too quickly, as if to make the point that Missy didn’t have one over in her.

“Well, she’s here somewhere…“ Missy smirked, delighting in the fact that she knew something the Doctor didn’t. “Busy though, really busy…“

“Busy?“ The Doctor frowned. She didn’t like the way Missy was saying that but she couldn’t help her hearts somersaulting just a little bit at the confirmation that her wife was here somewhere. She would get to see her again. It had been such a long time.

“Your bride dances at numerous weddings, as usual.“ Missy hummed just as Clara and Heather returned with colourful cocktails. “Thank you dear.“ She took a bright red drink that was unsettlingly reminiscent of blood and took the opportunity to press a firm kiss to Clara’s lips. “Oh I should start doing this to all your companions, the look on your face!“ Missy laughed at the Doctor’s expression. She looked like she was about to throw a punch. “Or, you know, your wife… now that would be fun.“

“Watch it!“ The Doctor growled threateningly.

“Wherever is Professor Song?“ Missy hummed in a sing-song voice and sip her drink in delight.  

“Clara!“ Everyone looked around as two female voices chanted in unison.

“Oh hello!“ Clara recognised Vastra and Jenny immediately as they were heading straight towards them.

“More old friends?“ Ryan asked and the Doctor’s face brightened. It was hard to worry about the timeline when it was so nice to see so many of her friends.

“Vastra! Jenny!“ She grinned at them in greeting and while Jenny frowned, confused, her wife’s superior senses helped her recognise her immediately.

“Doctor!“ The lizard woman looked at her in shock. “Now that makes a change.“ She looked her up and down, surprised, but not unpleasantly. Jenny must have noticed the look on her face as she gave Vastra’s arm a playful slap.

“Oi! Married!“ She reminded her. “Hello Doctor.“ She carried on cheerfully and gave a wave to everyone else, who, with the exception of Clara, they didn’t know yet.

“It’s getting rather crowded, isn’t it.“ Missy pursed her lips shooting Clara a glance with the intention of getting out of there soon but her companion was more concerned with meeting the Doctor’s other friends, past and present. “Oi!“ She shot Jack a glare who was just putting his arm around Clara all too familiarly.

“Sorry, dear.“ Vastra gave her wife an appeasing smile and turned back to the Doctor. “We didn’t expect to see you, Doctor. At least not like this.“

“Don’t tell me.“ The Doctor groaned, sensing where this was going.

“We didn’t mean to interrupt, we just thought, when we saw Miss Oswald, perhaps she’d know where the Doctor was, a younger one, that is. Suspenders too, but bow tie…“ Vastra explained apologetically. They had lost the Doctor they had arrived with quite a while ago.

“Is that who you’re here with?“ The Doctor asked, wincing at the prospect of yet another version of hers running around this place.

“Following an invitation from your wife, as I understand it. He didn’t want to go alone.“ Jenny added.

“Where is he now?“ The Doctor asked, sensing where all this was going.

“That is a very good question.“ Vastra agreed and they all looked around, everyone scanning the crowd for their particular Doctors.

“I already have a very bad feeling about this…“ The Doctor sighed.

“Are you sure you want to find your wife?“ Missy snickered, highly amused.

“I would if I knew how.“ The Doctor huffed, as a cheerful voice carried over from the other side of the cocktail bar:

“That River Song really is something, isn’t she.“ Everyone looked around and saw a blonde pulling herself onto a bar stool, setting down a nearly empty glass.

“Don’t say it like that.“ A second woman, brunette with shoulder length hair, huffed as she climbed onto a stool beside her. The Doctor looked around to her friends, none of whom recognised the two women, with the exception of herself and Missy who pursed her lips with intrigue. Now there were two people she hadn't seen in quite some time.

“Like what?“ Helen laughed, twirling the straw of her drink between her fingers.

“Like you admire the woman…“ Liv answered, clearly not enjoying the conversation.

“You’re just jealous.“ Helen retorted playfully.

“Jealous? Of what? Don’t be ridiculous.“ Liv shot back a little too quickly.

“Then stop sulking!“ Helen grinned. “The Doctor is having fun, leave him to it. And let’s have some fun too! These cocktails are really good…“ She waved at the bar keep for another.

“And really strong, you sure you want another one.“ Liv couldn’t help but point out.

“Most definitely.“ Helen nodded full of enthusiasm and nearly fell off her stool. Perhaps she had had a little bit too much after all. Liv was quick to hold her up. “Thank you Liv, you’re the best you know that?“ Helen smiled happily and reached out to stroke her friend’s cheek.

“I try.“ Liv replied, blushing at the gesture and her friend pulled her forward into a tight hug.

“No really, you are…“ Helen held her tightly, nuzzling into the crook of her neck and Liv didn’t know what to do with her hands. She nearly fell off her stool herself but she didn’t want to pull back either, so she wrapped her arms around Helen’s shoulders, glad she wouldn’t be able to see her blush. Helen was completely oblivious to her discomfort, she just carried on mumbling: “You’re so kind and clever and brave and… so pretty…“

“I think you’ve had enough to drink…“ Liv pulled away, momentarily worried for her friend’s state but Helen wouldn’t let her go. Instead she grabbed Liv’s head and kissed her.

“I had money on that, you know.“ Missy smirked as the Doctor just watched, delighted and confused in equal measures. How had she never picked up on this when they were travelling together?

“Oh God…“ Helen pulled away when she realised what she was doing. But only after thoroughly snogging her best friend’s face off. She blushed deeply, her intoxication seemingly gone in an instant as sobering reality hit her. Liv blinked overwhelmed still, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest. “Sorry, I was just… getting carried away and…“ Helen stammered, letting go of her but this time it was Liv that wouldn’t let go.

“You can do it again… you know in the spirit of… or just because you want to…“ Liv bit her bottom lip nervously.

“I don’t know why I did that…“ Helen carried on stuttering until Liv’s words sunk in: “What?“

“Oh Helen… my beautiful, clueless friend…“ Liv shook her head and laughed.

“Sorry, I have no idea what I’m doing.“ Helen admitted, blushing scarlet.

“I do.“ Liv assured her more confidently and leaned in to kiss her again when Helen stopped her.

“Liv…“

“What?“ Liv’s heart sank, wondering if Helen had thought better of it but she realised her friend was stopped for another reason. She was looking past her and Liv noticed they had an audience.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account.“ Missy gave a wave of her hand when she realised she had been spotted. Of course, she was the only one Helen Sinclair and Liv Chenka would recognise. “Wasn’t sure where we were, timelines and all!“

“You again!“ Helen exclaimed and Missy sighed. Why were the Doctor’s friends always so stuck up on the past? So what if she had kidnapped and nearly killed her?

“I was hoping we would bump into you again, now I can finally…“ Liv was about to go for Missy but the Doctor quickly intervened.

“No, no, no, none of that!“ She held Liv back and Missy chuckled.

“Come on, Doctor, if Miss Chenka wasn’t to play, that can be arranged.“ Her eyes flashed dangerously.

“Missy! Timelines!“ The Doctor scolded. The time lines were already all messed up, without anyone losing their life before their time. Missy gave a shrug.

“Doctor?“ Liv echoed, looking at the blonde in front of her bewildered. She took a step back, accepting that maybe violence was not the right course of action right now.

“While I’m sure the Doctor is elated to see you two finally stopped doing that silly little I don’t know how she’s feeling about me - but what if she doesn’t like me - but she’s from the past - but she’s from the future - I can’t ruin our friendship dance of yours, she’d rather like to know where her wife is and you seem to know.“ Missy sighed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“The Doctor?“ Helen repeated incredulously.

“Wow…“ Was all Liv could manage staring at the blonde and Helen, gripped by a wave of jealousy, hit her arm:

“Liv!“

“Not to interrupt the happy reunion or whatever but I think your search is over, Doctor.“ Jack announced and everyone looked around to where he was pointing.

“She didn’t just invite you, did she…“ Missy chuckled as they watched River push through the crowd accompanied by no less than thirteen Doctors, all of them competing for her attention and affection.

“She invited all of us, didn’t she…“ The Doctor sighed, realising that the same message she had received would have popped up on every other Doctor’s psychic paper as well.

“Go on then, Doctor.“ Jack put his arm around her slender shoulders and pulled her along. “Because if you don’t go over there, I might.“ He smirked. “Professor Song!“ He called before the Doctor could protest. River looked over to them, grinning, as she recognised Jack.

“Captain.“ She smirked flirtily as she sauntered over, while the other Doctors shot Jack annoyed glances.

“Think this is who you were looking for.“ Jack gave the Doctor a shove forward and decided that for once, he should be the wing man instead of going for the prize himself.

“Hello River.“ The Doctor managed a half smile and her feelings were incredibly conflicting. She was thrilled to see her wife; who looked beautiful in a flowing dress with the sun dancing in her curls. She was jealous that the other Doctor’s got there before her. And most importantly, she was annoyed: How could she have been so irresponsible?! All of space and time could rip apart if they put a foot wrong!

“My my my, now that makes a change.“ River smirked as she only took a moment to realise who she was. She stepped closer, looking her up and down far more obviously would have been necessary. The Doctor blushed and decided to go on the offensive to get herself out of the awkward situation:

“You know you will have to make them forget!“ She pointed to all her other selves. “This could end so badly!“

“Timelines will do that. Relax, Sweetie. None of you will remember a thing after crossing your own time stream. I can’t believe I’ve had to have this conversation fourteen times.“ River sighed but the expression on her face indicated that she had no problem repeating herself with her spouses. “Now, less sulking, how about a kiss for your old wife, hm?“ She smirked, grabbed the Doctor by the collar of her coat. She pulled her in for a kiss that quickly muted any sort of protest.

Just then, a confetti cannon went off, dousing the group in a rainbow of colours.

“Sorry, couldn’t help it.“ Missy grinned as the Doctor’s friends shot her accusing glances and she hid her sonic umbrella behind her back. “Anyway, I wonder if there are more versions of me about…“

The Doctor didn’t even notice. She was too occupied kissing her wife to the chorus of jealous calls from several of her past selves. She had missed her so much .

[darling-i-read-it]

Lecter

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Word Count: 900

Warnings: murder, blood, canniblism 

Author’s Note: I loved this one, I missed writing for da boys 

Summary: you come to Hannibals with a dress stained in blood

Genre: fluff?

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

(not my gif)

You stood in Hannibal’s kitchen. He was staring at you, watching your chest rise and fall in an unsteady pattern. You were clearly worried and it was clear why. There was a splash of blood over your white dress. It was a favorite of Will’s and that was clearly why you had come to Hannibals. Will stood just behind him, wordlessly. He shook his head and took a step forward but Hannibal grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Don’t touch her,” Hannibal said calmly. “We don’t want anyone elses outfit stained.” Will gestured toward you.

“Well we have to help her,” Will said.

“Clearly.”

“Who’s blood is it?” Will asked. You let out a stiff snort.

“Mason Verger.” They both let out a small sigh. Glad he was out of the picture. That being said, Hannibal had wished he would be the person to do him in. Finish him off, come full circle. 

“Did you seek him out? Who saw you?”

“You assume that I’m not good at this. Despite the fact it got over the dress, I wasn’t expecting the pigs to be so aggressive,” you promised. “No one saw me. I don’t think Margot did and Alana didn’t who was also there curiously enough.” Will raised an eyebrow.

“Do you think she and Mason-”

“Her and Margot Will.” Will’s eyes went wide and then he nodded.

“Feels about right.” 

“The blood dress boys.” They nodded and Hannibal turned around. Him and Will were in the middle of dinner, a dinner you were meant to join them on. You had been late so when you showed up they were prepared to make a big deal out of it. Then you decided to track blood into the pristine kitchen and they had other problems.

“Right. I’ll go get something for the floor, Will if you could grab a bag for the dress.” He nodded and both of them rushed to find things. Will came back to you quickly and gestured for you to take off the dress. It wasn’t anything either of them hadn’t seen before and you had no problem letting them see you so exposed. That being said, you were struggling to find the zipper.

“I know you can’t get your hands on the blood but could you unzip me?” He nodded and walked behind you, unzipping the dress to the middle of your back. You took off the sleeves carefully and slid it down your body, stepping out, careful to not get any more blood on the ground. You put it in the bag Will was holding up. Hannibal returned to the room.

“Here,” he said and handed you some clothes. You nodded and took them, slipping out of your shoes as well. You put them on quickly and they were clearly one of Will’s outfits because it was comfortable. Nothing Hannibal wore seemed comfortable. 

“Thank you both. I don’t know what I would do without you,” you said. You put the sleeves of the sweater over the palms of your hands and put your hand on Will’s shoulder.

“Is there any more blood on you?” Hannibal asked.

“Ah typical conversations,” Will muttered. You laughed lightly and shook your head, looking yourself up and down. Will and Hannibal did so as well so you did a little turn, making sure it hadn’t gotten anywhere else.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. Now, about that dinner,” you said, leading yourself into the dining room. They followed suit and you picked a bit off of one of their plates, eating bits off the edge. “What is it?”

“People,” Will said.

“Yes but this green stuff.”

“Lettuce,” Hannibal said, laughing. 

“Ah how exotic.”

You sat down at your seat and the boys sat down as well. You wondered if Hannibal had already cleaned up everything from the door.

“Is Mason still with the pigs?” Hannibal asked, getting back to eating.

“Last I checked. I thought about bringing you a bit of his chin but I didn’t want to bring up any kind of bad memories with Will,” you said, putting your hand on Will’s briefly. He shook his head.

“I think I would be alright.” 

“You never know. Hannibal ask him to draw a clock.”

“You aren’t supposed to know what we do in session,” Hannibal said. You pointed a fork at him, swallowing a bit of the food.

“I tell Will what we do in session,” you said.

“Do you really let her eat chocolate?” Will asked.

“I can’t believe we’ve gone from dead body back to dinner conversation,” Hannibal said. 

“That is only the norm in the Lecter household,” you suggested.

“Are we all Lecters then? What if we thought about taking Will’s last name,” Hannibal pointed out.

“Lecter is so pompous but I think it fits well,” Will said.

“I like it,” you said.

The phone rang and Hannibal put his fork down carefully and stood up. He picked it up behind Will.

“Lecter household.” 

You and Will shared a smile.

[justcourttee]

The Ice Queen

So, @long-lost-peace was messaging me and they came up with this brilliant idea that Marinette leaves Paris and transfers to the school that Felix attends. When the class visits one day, they’re shocked to see the Marinette they once knew is gone, and in her place is an Ice Queen. 

This is Felinette and my best attempt at doing their amazing idea justice.

Marinette had no idea how she had gotten there.

Well, that was a lie. In all honesty, it had happened so fast. The minute she told her parents that she was applying for the design program in a London school, they were more than happy to help her pack weeks before she even received her acceptance letter. They knew she needed a break from the school and what better way than throwing herself into something she loved?

The train ride was only two hours and sixteen minutes.

Her parents helped her set up her new room in the campus suites and exchanged tearful goodbyes before she found herself alone soon enough. She took it upon herself to explore the new city, snapping pictures and jotting down all of her quick bursts of inspiration that came from the beauty of the sights. When she had returned, she found a small brunette rummaging through her closet as if it were her own.

“Uhm, I’m sorry, but can I help you with something?”

The girl didn’t even bother responding as she pulled out a top, holding it against herself for a moment before shaking her head, placing it back in the closet. Marinette looked down at her purse where Tikki’s head was peeking out in curiosity, their head cocked to side much like how Marinette looked.

“Well, uhm, I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I am assuming you’re my roommate?”

The girl finally looked up from her rummaging, offering Marinette a half cocked smile.

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived. You’re the new fashion major right? Do you think you could help me pick out an outfit that would impress even the most stone hearted person?”

Marinette opened her mouth but shut it just as quickly as the girl pulled out yet another one of her tops.

“Is that a no fashion major?”

Marinette shook her head, trying to regain her voice.

“I’m sorry but could you stop going through my clothes?”

The girl shrugged before stepping backwards, taking a seat on the edge of Marinette’s bed. “My name’s Kayla, guess I kind of forgot that. Anyways, I need your help, new girl. Felix is coming to the party tonight and he’ll never notice me if I keep dressing in the same drab. I need something new and exciting, can you manage that?”

“Kayla! I thought we were going to greet her together!”

Marinette spun around to face the girl that stood in her doorway pouting. Her head was swimming as two girl’s bickered about her arrival, completely oblivious to the shade of pale she had turned.

“-you are just so rude! I mean going through her clothes without her permission? A woman’s closest is an extension of their soul and, hey, Marinette, are you alright?”

Marinette’s eyes came back into focus as she loosened the tight grip she had on her purse. She managed a small nod, before lowering herself into the chair by her desk.

“Okay good, omg, where are my manners? I’m Delilah! And I’m sure you’ve already met Kayla, I’m so sorry in advance, my friend has no personal boundaries and refuses to learn them.”

Kayla simply shrugged from her spot on Marinette’s bed, her eyes still scanning her closet as if willing the perfect piece to fall into her lap.

“It’s nice to meet you both, I’m sorry it’s just, it’s my first day here and-”

“And that’s perfectly okay! You take all the time you need to get ready for the party tonight and if you need any help at all, Kayla and I are right down the hall! Let’s meet in the living room at 7 so that we can all go together kk? Great!”

Without another word, Delilah gathered Kayla’s arm pulling the girl out the door before she could protest, slamming it shut behind them. Marinette waited a moment to be sure no one was going to pop back in before she opened her purse, allowing Tikki to fly out.

“Oh my, they were very lively huh?”

Marinette simply shook her head, a tired smile gracing her face.

“Tikki, I think I need a sympathy nap for Delilah. I mean, she talks so fast and in such an upbeat manner, I don’t know how she can keep that up for hours on end.”

The kwami chuckled, their eyes scanning over Marinette’s room.

“Wow Mari, this room is huge! You can totally keep up like three projects just in that corner alone!”

“I know Tikki! This school takes their majors very seriously. If I remember right, Delilah is a gymnastics major and Kayla is a business one. I wonder how their rooms look.”

“Well, why don’t you go find out?”

Marinette shook her head as she stood, taking the few steps before collapsing face first on her bed.

“Nap first. If I’m going to some party tonight, I need this time to recharge.”

Tikki rolled their eyes at Marinette, opening their mouth to sass the young girl, but closing it instead upon seeing their chosen one already knocked out.

“Sweet dreams Marinette.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Delilah wasn’t joking.

She was already standing in the living room at 6:50, her foot tapping away as she waited for her roommates to join her. She practically had a heart attack when Kayla was one minute late, dragging both girls by their hands down the stairs in full lecture mode.

“-and we’re gonna miss him arriving! You know he always is so over the top!”

Marinette had no idea who this ‘him’ was, but it was beyond obvious that both girls were crushing hard. She tried to remember the name Kayla slipped earlier, but her brain refused to provide it to her. She simply listened intently to their many stories, biding her time until she could meet the mysterious him.

“Ah, we’re here. Quick, ladies, how does my hair look? You know Felix is a perfectionist, he can’t have his future wife with one strand of hair out of place.”

Kayla muffled her laughter with her hand as she helped Delilah brush a few strands behind her ear.

“You know Delilah, he can only be your future husband if he chooses you over me right?”

The girl’s face morphed into one of mock hurt as she placed her hand dramatically over her chest. Marinette couldn’t focus on their interaction though. Instead her head was somewhere else.

They couldn’t mean Felix Graham de Vanily right? She wasn’t that unlucky to transfer out of one school that housed Lila into another that housed Felix right?

“Omg, there he is!” Delilah’s squeal broke her thoughts as Marinette turned slowly to where both girl’s gazes sat. Instantly, she felt her heart stop.

“Hi Felix! Have you met Marinette yet? She’s my new roommate!”

Marinette’s face reddened as she tried to back step and hid behind Kayla, but both girl’s were insistent on showing her off. She saw Felix’s eyes narrow in on her, only confirming what she already knew.

“Marinette right? Would you care for a dance?”

It was her turn to narrow her eyes. What did he have planned? Felix was no gentleman offering the new girl a good time, no, he was a lying and deceitful scoundrel who couldn’t be trusted and-

“She would love to!” She felt Delilah’s hands on her back, pushing her into him. Her panicked eyes shot back to where the two girls stood giving her thumbs up. If only they knew.

Felix led her to the middle of the floor, his hand resting at the base of her back as they gently swayed to the music.

“Dupain-Cheng, tell me, do you desire my cousin so much that you had to move to London in hopes of the distance making him long for you? It’s quite the elaborate plan.”

“Excuse me? Exactly how pathetic do you think I am?”

“Do you want me to honestly answer that question?”

Marinette cut her eyes to the boy’s smug face, every fiber in her begging her to smack that look off.

“Besides, I don’t even like Adrien any more. He chose what was more important to him and in the end, that wasn’t me.”

Felix cocked his head to the side as if seeing the girl in a new light.

“So you’re done with your sorry crush on my cousin?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

Felix’s smirk grew with every passing moment and honestly? It was starting to freak her out.

“Can you please wipe that stupid look off of your face?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he spun her out, drawing her in so that her back was pressed against his chest. His ear dropped down to her ear as her breath hitched in her throat.

“Let me tell you a little secret Marinette. You care too much. Try caring less, it would be a much more fitting look.”

As the song came to an end, Felix released her hand, offering her a mock bow before slipping into the crowd, leaving a flustered Marinette replaying his words on repeat in her head.

It would be a much more fitting look.

She wanted to pull her hair out in frustration. This was only her first night and he was already under her skin. In that moment, Marinette made up her mind. She would avoid speaking to Felix Graham de Vanily for the rest of her time here in London, even if it was the last thing she did. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Unfortunately, her vow didn’t even last one day.

Her roommates swooned over that first night, insisting that she was coming to every hangout as the newest contender for Felix’s affection. She tried to brush it off, tell them she wasn’t interested, but it was useless.

“You two had so much passion when you were dancing, the looks on both your faces, ah, beautiful. Even you can’t deny that he’s pretty!”

Delilah’s words set her fate in stone as she began seeing Felix regularly from lunch dates to movie nights to days out on the town. Their friend group welcomed Marinette with open arms, ready to drag her off at every chance.

When it came to their outings, she almost could attempt to ignore Felix’s smirks and sly comments all thrown in her direction. Her new friends helped her outgrow her fears and insecurities, Felix helped her become better at ignoring and dishing out insults. By the end of her first year in London, Marinette felt better about herself then she had in years.

At least until her teacher pulled her aside delivering the worst news she could’ve possibly imagined.

“Marinette! Your old class from Paris is coming to visit next week and we were wondering if you could translate for them. They’ll be touring our institute before continuing on with the tour of the city and to my knowledge, you are our only student who speaks fluently in both French and English.”

Marinette’s head was shaking before the teacher could even finish her sentence.

She didn’t want to see them again, she had finally gotten to the point in her life where all the damage they had done was gone. It was like a terrible dream, a relapse into her old self. She couldn’t do it, she-

A gentle hand settled on her shoulder bringing her back down from her near panic attack. Sheepishly, she peeked up to where Felix stood, his face unreadable.

“Mrs. James, I would like to translate as well. My cousin is in that class and taught me French quite some time ago. Between the two of us, Marinette and I can take on this assignment.”

Marinette felt her heart skip a beat as she focused in on where his hand still sat perched on her shoulder. What was that feeling of warmth slowly coursing it’s way through her body? No, absolutely not, it couldn’t be.

She watched as the teacher walked away leaving the two of them in an abandoned hallway, a silence filling the space. Slowly, Felix withdrew his hand before shoving it into his pocket, taking off in his usual brisk pace.

Marinette stood dumb founded in her spot, unsure whether to follow when his voice snapped her to attention.

“Come on Dupain-Cheng, we haven’t got all day.”

She shook off her nerves before practically jogging to catch up to the blonde. Falling in line with his pace, she kept her eyes straight forward, even when she felt his fingers interlock with hers. She swallowed hard, willing her heart to stop somersaulting through her body.

“We’re going to face them together okay? We’re going to show them the ice queen that you have grown to be.”

Marinette couldn’t trust herself to speak, instead choosing to nod in agreement.

“Good, after all, this new you is a much more fitting look.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A week came and went and Marinette found herself in front of the school building swallowing her nerves and steadying her face.

Taking Felix’s advice, she ditched her usual pigtails and outfit for a much edgier look complete with a high ponytail and more make up than she cared for. At first, she wanted to argue saying a new look could do nothing for her, but as Kayla finished placing the scarlet red on her lips, Marinette couldn’t stop staring at herself in the mirror.

The girl looking back was beautiful, confident, and most importantly cold. A befitting look for her new title as Ice Queen.

When the double decker pulled to a stop in front of the school, Marinette’s nerves began to swallow her. She wanted to ditch her position, trust that Felix could handle them and hide in her suite until she was sure they were gone. But a certain hand on her shoulder calmed her every frayed nerve as she straightened her posture, willing her face to remain as unexpressive as possible.

As the first of them began to unload, Felix leaned in, his breath tickling her ear.

“After this, they won’t forget you Marinette.”

He straightened back up, his small smile fading back into his own expressionless gaze.

Alya was the first to recognize her, her face contorting into a look of horror as she shook Nino’s shoulder, pointing him in Marinette’s direction. Slowly but surely, the word spread through the class the Marinette was here, waves of emotion crashing down.

Her old friend began to make her way toward where Marinette stood, but Madame Bustier reigned her back in, allowing the guide to welcome the class through Felix’s translation. Marinette scanned the crowd looking for one face in particular but alas she was nowhere to be found.

Adrien was though. Front and center, his mouth agape as he stared at Marinette’s new look. Through the day, Marinette could’ve sworn she counted over a dozen flies that he caught, but that didn’t stop from his hanging jaw.

It was easy work, translating. She would speak as nonchalantly as she could, never making eye contact and always looking as bored as she could. The waves of agitation spilling from Alya almost made her break character several times, but she kept reminding herself that her and Felix could laugh later, now was for taking a stand.

“Alright everyone, take an hour of free time but please, meet back in front of the school at 3:00 on the dot.”

This was the time Marinette had dreaded. It was easy to fake her new persona when there was nobody to face directly, but this was a different story.

As she thought, Alya, Nino, and Adrien made a beeline for her the minute Madame Bustier had dismissed them. Marinette turned around as if she couldn’t see them, hoping she could outwalk them, but instead she came face to face with a familiar chest.

“A queen doesn’t run Dupain-Cheng. They take a stand and fight. Now turn around, chin up, and let them have it.”

Marinette let out a slow breath before she turned back, straightening her posture and narrowing her eyes. Alya collided with her first, crushing her in a hug that Marinette didn’t bother to return.

“Girl we are so sorry, Adrien finally fessed up to us that Lila was lying a month ago and we all tried to reach out to apologize but it said your phone was disconnected-”

“That’s because it was. What makes you think I would want to hear from you now?”

Alya’s mouth blubbered like a fish out of water as she tried to gather her words together.

“Because dudette! We’re friends! And we needed you to know that we’re sorry and that you can come back to school!”

Marinette examined her nails lazily, slightly shaking her head.

“Oh Nino, we haven’t been friends for a while. In fact, I’m only here today because I was asked to translate.”

It was Nino’s turn to gape as he and Alya shared confused looks.

“Marinette, have you spending time with Felix? You know he’s not the best influence, look at how cold he’s made you.”

Adrien attempted to grab her hand, but Marinette pulled it just out of his distance. She felt the fury building up inside of her wanting to explode. She felt an arm fall over her shoulders, lightly pulling her into their side. She risked a small look up at Felix’s face that remained expressionless as he casually pushed Adrien back.

“Marinette! Don’t tell me you’re dating my cousin! I mean, he’s not even your type! I-”

He paused at the sight of Marinette’s playful smile. His eyes widened as she reached up, her hand gently grasping Felix’s jaw, pulling his lips down into hers. The kiss was short, but she swore she felt her head spinning. She was almost positive she would have fainted if he wasn’t already supporting her with his arm.

“But, Marinette, you’re my- we’re uhm-, you and me are friends! You can date your friends’ cousin!”

Marinette felt a smirk pull at her lips at the sight of her former friend’s distress.

“Watch me.”

She turned, ready to walk away, Felix’s arm still round her shoulder, but something stopped her in her tracks. Turning her head back slightly, she managed to make eye contact with the trio, their faces the perfect mixture of regret and confusion.

“Just to clarify. Felix didn’t make me cold, you all did when you turned your backs on me when I needed you the most. A frozen heart doesn’t happen overnight” she paused, her eyes meeting Felix’s, a warmth spreading through her at the sight of pride shining, all for her. “But it can be thawed in one.”

And without another look, Marinette took off, relishing in the feeling of being at her boyfriend’s side.

“Well done Dupain-Cheng, I would be kidding myself if I didn’t admit that I prefer this version of you than the stumbling girl I met years ago.”

Marinette let out a small laugh as she stood on her tiptoes, placing a quick peck to Felix’s now red face.

“I prefer this me too, and lucky for the both of us, the Ice Queen is here to stay.”

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy

[kursed-curtain]

1. Everything you made for fight club and war prize makes my heart soar. You breathed so much life into my silly OCs and turned flat cardboard cutouts into well-rounded three dimensional characters. How do you do it. Witchcraft I say.

3. I love the way you write the guards, they’re adorable. The interaction and the fambly feels. Also, your dialogue for odds is stellar and the inspiration behind my clumsy tackling of his character. Hes such a brat. I want to punt him

6. That dance scene between no1 and graham in war prize - i keep going back to it. Theyre both so happy to be together despite the circumstances. They missed each other so much. Let them smile for once! Ah! Lads!

7. That one picture of odds looming over graham and holding his mouth closed still makes my stomach clench. Odds you brat. 

8. Your design is fantastic, your interpretation of characters is lovely, i adore your skills with OCs, with developing and writing and building on them. So very jealous am i. Please let me have your skills, i need them /j

9. Amulent fic - no pressure, i know you’re figuring it out. But! The day you return to it is the day i will be a very happy bean. 

overall, just, ahh,, it's been wonderful workin with ya! Technically. Shady business deals in the desert.

All the stuff I do is mostly gifts in a technical sense. Built cuz I wanna help motivate all y'all to do what you love by showing that ^^ there's people out there who also love your works! :D and ofc it's more than just me who love y'all's stuff, I just like to show that in a physical way whenever I have the motivation to!

(plus it keeps me drawing on the daily cuz mmm brainrot)

I'm glad my guard stuff is gud! ^^ it's the kinda stuff that's easier to write because I'm,, not so secretly projecting onto them lmao. Also!! I love writing odds teehee but I could neverr write evens the way you do :0 I listen to more smug villains than quiet blunt villains. "It's easier than you would think, dear."

Also -gives you one (1) more braincell and a hug- thats all I can contribute in terms of skillz lol (that and... YouTube videos? I'm self-taught lol so I can -grabby- give stuff over if wanted) (cough cough Brooke Eggleston Character Design Forge and BaM Animation cough cough I watch too much of both constantly)

[miracul0us-multishipper]

“You”

A grin spread over Felix' face as he let the charade drop.

“Me.”

The black haired girl he now knew was Marinette rolled her eyes and turned back to her sketch book, a clear dismissal.

“You’re blocking the light. Go bother someone else.”

He sighed and brushed his hair back, decreasing the similarities to his cousin to the necessary minimum.

“Why would I? Everybody else is so boring.”

No one in this entire city had even realized he was back; not their classmates, not the teachers, not even the brunette fashion disaster that obviously had some experience with deception. Of course his little charade would have to end once Adrien had recovered from the cold that kept him at home, but until then Felix would have his fun. Yesterday he'd spend the entire day in the Bourgeois Spa, fooling the entire staff, the Mayor and his clingy brat. Despite the latter being Adriens “best friend”, not even she had realized who she was really inviting. Getting rid of her had been a little harder, but in the end he'd spent a wonderfully relaxing day in a steam bath and his skin was softer than ever. Courtesy of the ridiculously expensive mud bath he hadn’t had to pay a single penny for.

“Looks like you'd fit right in then.”, Marinette commented and drew an especially vigorous line in her book.

“Ouch. You wound me, darling!”

She shrugged and ignored him. Ignored him! That wouldn’t do.

With a last tug at his no longer messy strands he sat down next to her, leaning into her space as far as he could risk without getting slapped. His last few attempts had thought him that lesson.

“Oh, come on, Marinette, you must to tell me!”, he nagged her, happy when her face turned from concentration to annoyance. “What gave me away? Was it the wink? Or no, it was the greeting, wasn't it? Too much enthusiasm.”

“Why do you even care? You got all the others, didn’t you?”

He clicked his tongue.

“I have standards. If there's one person who can tell the difference, my performance is obviously lacking.”

She huffed and added a little bow to the skirt she was working on. Knee-length and plain colored, decorated with small ribbons. Classic and elegant, yet a touch of playfulness. He would have complimented it if he'd thought she might value his opinion.

“If it wasn’t my words or gestures, what was it?”, he asked on, not willing to give up and admit defeat. It was their little routine by now. He'd come up and try to pass as Adrien, she'd see through him and he would try to annoy her until she either gave him her full attention, or snarked him off. Marinette Dupain-Cheng – despite her cute appearance – could be mean, he'd learned.

“I don’t think I want to tell you.”, she shrugged, but he could see the beginning of a smile tugging at her lips. She'd deny it, but secretly she enjoyed their little battles of wits.

“What?”, he gasped and slumped against her in played shock, conveniently knocking the book out of her hands and onto the steps of the Trocadero. “But why?”

Now unable to draw on, she finally gave him her undivided focus.

“Because you, Monsieur Graham de Vanilly, are a major pain in my butt.”

“Oh? I would have thought you above such pettiness.”, he lamented. “To deny a fellow fashion enthusiast your criticism! To dishonor the sacred solidarity between artists! Truly a shame.”

“You? An artist?” She snickered. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Hey! Deception is as much of an art as these tiny scribbles of yours. And I am a master of my craft, thank you very much.”

She waved her hand and shooed him back a little.

“The questionable status of your craft aside, I'd hardly call you an expert. You were here for a day and already had the entire class plus three akumas after you. Your play didn’t even last an hour before it blew up in your face. Maybe you should ask Lila for a bit of advice! She's been here for months and is still on her unquestioned bullshit.”

He growled at that, drawing out another of these smug little smirks Marinette so rarely wore. After all his visits she knew how to rile him up.

“Do not compare me to that- that klutz! Anybody could spew some fancy tales and name drop, but that doesn’t mean she has skill. There's no finesse, no authenticity beneath that badly styled hair of her.”

“And there is beneath yours?”, Marinette said sweetly. He huffed and raised his chin.

“Of course there is. I don’t run around as Adrien for the fame, but for the fun of it. And I actually put in some effort. I was only found out because my goal required breaking character, and I still had a score to settle with my dear cousin. You think I only depend on my pretty face, because it looks conveniently close to Adrien? Wrong!”

His chest swoll a little as he spoke. With his accomplishments, he'd earned a little pride in himself.

“True, artful deception requires three things Lila Rossi couldn’t fake if her life depended on it: Discretion, Distraction and the right timing. She only ever barges in headfirst, unable to survive even a second outside of the spotlight.”

She hummed.

“My mistake. How could I ever assume you to be alike, since you obviously care so little about getting attention?”

Snarky little minx. Well, she wasn’t wrong, to be fair.

“Enough of that!”, he decided and eagerly turned back to her. “Now tell me what gave me away.”

“Let me see...”, she mused and pursed her lips. “I guess I could tell you that...”

“Yes?”

“...under certain circumstances...”

“Go on!”

“...it might be...”

“Might be?”

“The scent.”

He blinked. This had been his mistake? What kind of cologne did his cousin even wear?

“The... the scent.”

“Uh-huh.”

She moved to get back to her sketching, but he snatched the book before she could even touch it.

“Nah-ah! First you've got to expand on that. What perfume is he wearing?”

She shrugged and leaned back.

“Oh, isn’t it obvious? Adrien always wears “Manners and Class” N° 5. You on the other hand reek of “Wouldn’t know politeness if it hit me in the face”. A poor choice, really.”

She leaned in.

“You stink.”

It took a moment for her words to register, and he couldn't suppress a gasp when they did. With a satisfied smile she tugged her sketchbook out of his hands and crossed her legs, ready to put the finishing touch on her latest design. Felix fell back on the step next to her.

“That's it.”

“Yup.”

“You've won.”

“Fair and square.”

“I am defeated.”

“Annihilated. But to be fair, that opening was too easy.”

“Perfect set-up. Clean execution. Merciless punchline. You have earned your victory, so claim it properly.”

“I will.”

He fell silent after that, acknowledging his defeat. He lasted all but two minutes before his need for attention beat his shame.

“So? What do you want as your prize?”

“Peace and quiet?”, she proposed, gnawing at the end of her pencil.

He shook his head in disbelief.

“You're more ambitious than that, Dupain-Cheng. Here I am, Felix Graham du Vanilly, offering you everything I can give, and you settle for peace and quiet? Tsk, you can do better than that.”

“Maybe I could ask you to clear the area, while I’m already at it. For the entire week.”

He should leave. He wouldn’t get any real feedback out of her today, and now that he had offered her a prize she might develop some common sense and ask him for his connections, or some favors that could get her publicity. He was stretching his luck every time he decided to pester her again.

But he stayed. Whether it was his wounded pride, or his curiosity ever since she'd sent that little love declaration to his cousin... he couldn’t allow the only borderline interesting person in this city to dismiss him like that. Especially not when he hadn’t been able to get a rise out of her yet.

An idea popped into his mind and he spoke before he could think.

“You could ask me for a date.”

Now Marinette did put her book away.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

She blinked.

“Did you miss the part where I asked you to leave me to my scribbles, as you put it? Because I am sure I mentioned it a few times, now.”

“No, doesn’t ring a bell.”

She groaned and closed her book. He counted that as a victory.

“Well, then maybe you remember the fact that I’m in love with Adrien. Which you already know, since you watched the video clearly addressed to him. And deleted said video. And replied very rudely.”

He hummed and stood up to circle her. An actor had to have a sense of drama, after all.

“The past is the past. And in the present, I look just like Adrien.”

Now he finally seemed to have broken through her cool facade.

“So what?”, she snapped at him, crossing her arms. “Do you think I like him for his looks? Am I that shallow, in your opinion?”

Of course she wasn’t. But he'd finally struck a nerve.

“You're not?”, he provoked slyly.

“No!”

She stomped her pink flats on the ground with more force than should be physically possible.

“I love him because he is kind. And thoughtful. And funny and confident and fair and so classy, and because he loves to make friends, and because he's loyal and caring and-“

“Okay, okay, I get it. He's your little fairy tale prince.”, he interrupted a little harsher than intended. Clearing his throat he continued. “And you'll be relieved to know that I don’t want to date you either. No offense to you, but I am above such mundane things as crushes.”

She rolled her eyes and sat back down.

“Of course you are.”

“Fact is, my dear Marinette,” he lectured smugly, “that you can’t even say two words to your loverboy without seemingly suffering a particularly unflattering stroke.”

“What a flowery statement, Sherlock.”

“Another fact is that you can talk very fluently to me. Far too fluently, in my opinion.”

Marinette's eyes narrowed with suspicion and he smiled.

“What's your point?”

“My point is,” he finished his circling and came to a stand right in front of her. “that you can use me to practice. Here, I'll even mess up my hair again!”

“Wait, I didn’t even agree to-“

“You're welcome. Aren’t I a dashing little dream prince?”

He posed in true Adrien fashion and Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Please, just don’t.”

“Pah! Ungrateful as always. Anyway, back to business!”

He spun into a dramatic pirouette and kneeled down before her, taking her hand between his.

“Marinette, my fairest!”, he proclaimed with vigor. “Is there something on that bright mind of yours you want to share with me, Adrien Agreste?”

She groaned again, but didn’t pull away.

“If you'll leave me alone after that...”

“I'll do anything my good friend asks of me! I am sunshine personified!”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Close enough.”

He almost regretted looking for Marinette this late. The sun was about to set and most tourists had already left for locations with a better view. If there had been more, one might have captured a snap shot of Adrien Agreste kneeling in front of a random girl about to confess. His cousin would be delighted when he found out about his scandal in the news.

Alas, it was only the two of them who paid attention to each other. But Marinette was about to begin, so he didn’t ponder on the viewers anymore.

“I... I wanted to tell you that...”

He almost winced at that poor display of rhetorical talent, but she wasn’t done yet. Taking a deep breath, Marinette lifted her eyes off of her shoes and looked directly at him. And for a moment it felt as if she were looking into him. He'd seen these bluebell eyes roll in annoyance, glare in anger and sparkle with mirth, but never had he seen them this piercing, this all-consuming.

“Adrien, there's something I haven’t told you yet.”, she said, and it was as if he'd never heard her speak before. This wasn’t the voice that had teased and bantered with him, or the disinterested lull she mumbled in when she tried to ignore him. This was soft, yet firm and confident. Like tugging the strings of a violin: a clear, pleasant sound that offered a first hint of the potential in this slender instrument.

“I didn’t keep this from you because I don’t value our friendship.”, she said and her fingers tightened around his. Felix was suddenly sure that no expensive mudbath could ever make his skin as soft as hers. “It's the furthest thing from it. I didn’t tell you because I value our friendship so much. And I was scared to risk it.”

She took a step closer and he had to swallow.

“Adrien, you are the first person I think of when I wake up, and the only person I see in my dreams. Every morning, when I walk into class and see you, I feel like there's pure sunshine in my chest and springs under my feet. Like gravity is just a loose suggestion and I could float if I jumped. Like... like I could do anything I ever dreamed of.”

She looked down upon their hands. Disentangling their fingers surprised him, but even more surprising was that this time, she took his hands between hers.

“I know you feel trapped sometimes.”, she whispered and he found himself suddenly very insecure. Was she still acting? Was she this deep in their little charade? Or... or was she truly talking to him?

“I know you put up a smile and try to give everybody what they expect. And that you don’t have a lot of chances to just be you, not the heir of a great legacy. But I... I want to be your escape. Your safe haven. What I am trying to say is...”

She looked back up to him, and her smile was radiant.

“I love you.”

...

There was a tightness in his chest.

Because he wasn’t breathing, he realized.

Odd.

He didn’t have time to overthink this little detail, though. For as soon as he opened his mouth to say something – what, he didn’t know – she blinked and took a step back. The spell faded and his mouth fell shut again.

“So,” Marinette cleared her throat and looked away. “How... How was it?”

“Uh...”, he made, which was admittedly not the smartest reply he’d ever given her. The fact that he still hadn’t remembered to breathe in didn’t make things easier.

Marinette shifted her weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable.

“That bad?”

Ha.

Ha ha.

He shook his head and finally sucked in some much needed air.

“Good”, he croaked out, which was still not much of an improvement from his earlier statement of ‘uh’.

“It was... really good.”

Ah. The simple beauty of a full sentence.

“You think so?”, she asked, voice high with surprise. “It wasn’t... I don’t know, a little too much?”

“No!”, he answered a little too fast. “Uh, no. No, it was really... really good.”

Marinette's eyes went narrow.

“Are you making fun of me? Because I may be small, but if you did this to humiliate me then I swear to god, I will take this pencil and-“

“I was serious. What you said was beautiful.”

They both blinked at his words. He hadn’t meant to say that. This wasn’t how their interactions went. They were snarky. Mean. Teasing from time to time. But not... this. Never this open. Never vulnerable.

“Thank you.”, Marinette gave back, seemingly unsure herself. “I should... you know, it’s late and my parents are waiting.”

He nodded far too eagerly for his earlier efforts to make her stay.

“Yes, of course. I'll... No, you know the way better than me, probably.”

She laughed at that. It wasn’t a snicker, or one of her smug little huffs. It sounded... sweet.

“Yeah, no need to walk me home.”

She eyed him for a a moment, then the emptying place.

“I could walk you home, though. If you want to.”

Yes.

“No.”, he said and something in his chest roared in disappointment. “Thank you, but it would be quite the detour for you.”

She shrugged.

“Alright. Don’t get lost.”

Shouldering her bag she took her sketch book and moved to leave, but stopped mid movement to turn back around.

“Oh, and if you tell anybody – especially Adrien! – about any of this, you'll find out what I was going to do with that pencil! Got it?”

He rolled his eyes, finally in control of himself.

“Yes, oh great master of pencilmanship. Your weapon is as feared as its wielder.”

Satisfied she nodded and turned around, but stopped yet again. With a groan she dropped the bag, stepped in front of him and grabbed his collar. He'd never admit to anybody that the surprised squeal that followed had come from him. Utterly frozen in shock he could only watch as Marinette came closer and...

“There!”, she hummed and combed back his hair with her fingers. “I like you hair better this way.”

A small nod was all he could muster up, but it was enough for her. Waving him goodbye she turned around for good.

“Well then. See you around, Felix!”

He watched her leave, desperately trying to regain his voice.

“Y-Yeah. See you around, Marinette.”

Only when she had completely disappeared in the nearby metro station he allowed himself to sit down, wobbly knees no longer able to support him.

“What...”, he mumbled to himself, “...the entire fuck...”

What did just happen? Nothing made sense, not this stupid idea and certainly not his reaction to it. Sighing he leaned back against the steps and touched his hair. It was still a little messy, but laid back against his head in its usual fashion. If he concentrated he could almost feel the warmth of her fingers trapped between his strands.

He sighed deeply.

...damnit.

- - -

A little one shot because I hadn't written about canon!felix yet.

[desk-of-the-magicat]

✨✨✨

Draim, Jak, Mini!!!

Send ✨ to see one of my muse's memories.

Be sure to specify the muse for multimuse blogs

(Oh boy this ended up being rather long aaaaaaaaa Thank you for sending! @dragonwithgoggles )

Draim

Pen scratched lightly over paper, leaving a trail of ink behind it’s path. Draim watched only for a moment before making the next mark, he didn’t need to check back over this part. He had finished the work he was here to do some time ago, and was now catching up on some of his own. The final corrected ledger sat under a plate of half eaten freshly made cookies and Draim sat up straight in his chair at the kitchen table to stretch out his back. He didn’t mind this sort of work.

A sound pulled his attention away from the papers. Thunder rolling through the passing storm around them had caused one of the little ones to stir, and Draim looked over at the pile on the chair.

Cozy against the cold temperatures brought with the storm, was the Seacat family. Well, the corner of the Seacat family that Draim knew anyways. They were all piled together even though they had other places they could have laid around the living room. The kiddos, Celeste and Tello, were wrapped safely in their parents arms. Kel, their mother, gently squeezed Tello’s hand in her sleep to calm him from the rumble of the storms. It seemed he was sound asleep again. Meanwhile, Jak, their father, bore the weight of all the others piled on top of him while holding Celeste over his heart. How comfortable this arrangement truly was, was beyond the magicat’s knowledge, but they did look happy.

Draim carefully picked up another cookie from the plate, and held it by the edge with his teeth while he pulled the ledger back over to double check his work. Kel had suspected Jak was getting charged too much for the enchantments on his fleet, and during this rare time while a passing storm prevented them from leaving port as scheduled, Draim had visited to check for them. Her suspicions were correct, and Draim provided the correct estimates as well as contacts for each to resolve the discrepancies.

His corrections dotted the logs here and there, and once satisfied again after the quick look over, he placed the book back in it’s spot and finally enjoyed his cookie.

No, Draim didn’t mind this sort of work at all… and some day, he would miss it more than he ever thought possible.

Jak

The fading light and the increasing pressure on his lungs made Jak’s search more difficult as he descended down into the depths with the still sinking ship. He had gone diving with his mother since a young age, as was a Seacat tradition to do to adjust to their blessing of the sea, but this was much different. Ships born of the Seacat shipyards were gifted with a soul mark of their very own. They were alive in their own ways and this ship knew her fate. Her captain had abandoned her to conditions that could have been salvaged. This was only her third trip across the waves. Jak could feel this sorrow pressing on his chest, heavier than the water now around him. She was to be lost to the dark depths below, in exchange for the coin of twisted men on shore. It was unbearable.

It was with this feeling that Jak had leapt from the fleeing lifeboat with the heaviest of supply packs he could hold before the ship’s crew could grab him. Jak knew it was tradition to strike or salvage the mark, and this had not been done. It must be done!!

From the darkness below and with the fleeting light of the world above, Jak spotted a loose line from the top mast in the growing darkness. From the moment his hand caught the line, Jak could feel the cries from the heart of the ship. Catching a piece of her hull floating past and tucking it under his arm, Jak continued to search in the darkness. He passed below the deck, and further still until he saw it. Glowing as if a burning ember, the delicate lines of the ship’s soul mark. It almost looked like a flower.

With the piece of hull still under his arm, Jak reached down with both hands to reclaim the mark in hopes of transferring it. Somewhere in his mind he knew the level of skills needed for such a task were far beyond his own, but he knew in his heart he had to try. The soul mark flashed in response to his efforts, and the whole sea became as if made of fire.

The broiling water sent a torrent of bubbles rushing out around Jak’s hands and up past his face. A yell escaped him, along with the precious air he had been holding onto during his dive. The burning spread up his hands, to his arms, and a fear not wholly his own started to overtake him. Just as he was about to black out, a sudden wave of cold passed through both the body of the ship and his own frame.

Everything froze and became still. Peaceful in its state. A pair of hands gently pulled Jak away from the ship. The soul mark, which shone as a calm sun set in his fading vision, rested upon the board still tucked under his arm. Eventually, the darkness took him...

Jak woke up at his desk with a bit of a jolt. The pen leapt from his hand, skipped across the ledger and came to a rest beside the stack of logbooks in front of him. As if still stuck in the memory of his childhood, he looked down at his hands. Fingerless gloves still covered most of the markings left behind by the healers, and he opened and closed his hands to reassure himself once more that no lasting damage was done. It was just a distant memory. The Lily’s hull made a quiet murmur as the schooner gently glided over the waves, rolling the pen back across the desk towards him as she went. Jak let out a small chuckle to himself, what an odd time for such a memory, and caught the pen before it rolled away once more.

Behind his chair, above the windows looking out to the sea, sat a familiar ink drawing of the Lily's soul mark. In the lantern light the ink shimmered like that of a flower made of embers, burning bright once again.

Mini

An endless flight while being lost over the perpetual twilight of the wild mists was suddenly cut away by a sudden brightness and the sounds of rustling papers. Mini woke to the dawn’s light that managed to pierce the mists, the freshly made gaps in the trees, and the hole in the roof above her.

Mini blinked, and sort of remembered that she had plummeted from the sky. Something crunchy had broken her fall… so it was a roof? Way out here? Looking to the side, it became apparent she was resting on a faded red couch in some sort of a living space. If one could call this a living space by the amount of books, bottles and papers strewn across the place. Mini sat up, and noticed her arms were covered in bandages stained blue and sparkling in the light. The fall had reopened her wounds from the last job she was returning from… Who would bandage such a being as herself?

“Ah hah, finally you awake!” Said an overly chipper voice, as if an answer to her internal question. “Admiring your work, eh?”

Looking over to the source of the geeting, Mini focused on the figure that had seemingly emerged from a door hidden behind one of the piles of books. Had her trip exhausted her so much that she didn’t even notice this person approaching?

“Hello there~” Waved the tall Muln of grey fur with black stripes. They grinned with a child like glee, which seemed mismatched to their matured fashion of a vest and lab coat. In their hands was a tray of food. “Welcome to my labs! I am Graham Roo. You fell through my roof!”

“Oh.” Mini’s face flushed slightly, as she moved to get up. “My apologies, I-”

Graham stopped Mini’s movements by placing the tray of food on her lap as soon as she was sitting up. “No worries, no worries! My apologies for the bandages, I wasn’t sure what would stop your wounds.”

“Ah…” Mini looked from the hearty meal to her bandaged arms. She hadn’t seen such gestures in such a long time, yet she knew she would recover without both in time. It was slightly overwhelming to suddenly have both again. “Thank you, but these aren’t really necessary for me to-”

“Do they ever heal? Your wounds?” Graham asked, cutting Mini off again. Their voice remained calm, curious, and delighted to have a guest to be curious about. “I am guessing from surviving that fall, you're some sort of immortal, yeh? But you're covered in such marks! Does your family know how hurt you are?”

Mini was silent, did her fall undo some of her form? Was her true self showing through somehow? How the salt were they learning such things about her! Graham seemed amused by the face Mini made in reply, one that she could only guess was of alarmed confusion when looking back.

“Well, never mind! I won’t tell them. Do eat up, little immortal!” Graham smiled warmly and patted Mini on the head. “Even if you do not need food to live, it is great for the soul! We’ll figure out your wounds when you are done.”

With that, Graham Roo spun on their heel and vanished back through the book hidden door they had came in from. Mini sat there in mild shock for a moment. D-Did they just pat her head?! Mini shook herself to dismiss the mixed feelings of all of this. She would most likely be leaving as soon as she was able, back to answering those who called for help. But for right now… Mini picked up the soup from the tray.

What an odd individual to encounter, so deep within the wild mists.

[edelwoodsouls]

i still pick up at the sound of your call [fic]

"Is that a dalek on tv?" [or: Martha has some choice questions for the Doctor regarding the new Prime Minister's addess]

Inspired by this post

Word Count: 1,799 | Also on Ao3

"Oi, what the fuck is going on?"

The Doctor blinks. Pulls the phone away from her ear, to check the number again, check she isn't hallucinating. She'd hardly believed it when she saw it, hasn't seen those numbers strung together in years, though they're still burned into her mind.

Another life, another time.

Another friend burned to ashes.

She hesitates, for just a moment. Takes a deep breath. "Hey, Martha," she cringes instantly at the hollow lightness of her tone, only drawing attention to the lifetimes between their last words. "What's up?"

A heavy pause on the other end. The Doctor tries to imagine her old companion, for just a moment. She'd promised herself she would check up on her friends from time to time, make sure they were okay, if she could help them from the shadows in any way - but that promise has fallen between the cracks, lost along the way with everything she ever thought was true.

The last time she saw Martha, she saved her life. Moments before her own - his own, back then - had slipped between her fingers.

She'd looked happy. The Doctor could never have predicted Martha and Mickey of all people, but she was glad for them. She had ruined their lives in so many ways by crashing through them, by falling in love with Rose - this was the least they deserved.

So she imagines Martha like that. Curled up on the sofa, cornrowed hair and sparkling eyes. Legs tangled up with Mickey as they watch tv in the burnt orange glow of a dying London afternoon.

Oh, fuck. The tv.

"Uh, hi," Martha answers finally, wrong-footed and uncertain. "I wanted to speak to the Doctor, could you put him on, please? Sorry, I- uh, I'm Martha. Jones. I used to travel with him. I'm guessing you're the new companion? What happened to Donna?"

An unexpected lump rises in the Doctor's throat. Thousands of years - thousands - have passed since she last bothered to check in on Martha Jones. How many companions have been and gone in that time? How many have crumbled to ash beneath her fingers?

She swallows it down, files it under Compartmentalise, and Never Think of Again.

Sunshine. Enthusiasm. Energy. The tenets she's founded herself on this go around. She plasters a bright smile on her face, as if contorting her muscles will trick her tone into believing she means it.

"Just me, I'm afraid," she grins, skipping around the TARDIS to fiddle with the controls to keep her hands busy. "Had a bit of a change of face since you last saw me."

Furious whispers on the other side of the phone, far enough away from the receiver that even she can't hear them. She imagines Martha and Mickey, confusion and surprise warring with each other.

This reveal never gets old.

"Sooo, how've you been? How's Mickey? It's been, what, nearly ten years since you last saw me?"

"Uh, yeah," Martha returns to the phone, hesitant. She's never had to deal with regeneration, really. "I didn't know you could- I mean, when you said you change, I didn't realise that-"

"I can be anything I like! It's great, innit? I could have two heads or green skin if I felt like it. First time I've been a woman, though. Well, first time I remember, I guess. Still haven't been ginger, though. Maybe one day."

"Different face, same amount of energy," Martha laughs, and the sound lifts a weight from the Doctor's chest she didn't even know was there. "Mickey says hi."

"Yeah- hi!" A more distant voice echoes through the phone, startled at being addressed.

"Hi! It's great to hear from you!" She twirls the phone cord around a finger. If there's one thing she always regrets in her lives, it's the way her previous selves treated their companions. Each one with a different idea of relationships, of how things should be done.

This version of her thinks Mickey would be a great companion, if not for her Rose-tinted blinders.

"So, to what do I owe this call? Hope you kids have been keeping out of trouble, though somehow, I doubt it."

"Right!" Martha yelps. The whole regeneration thing definitely threw her for a loop. "Yeah, Doctor, what the fuck is going on? Is that a dalek we just saw on tv?"

"Ah, yeah... it is, yeah."

"And?"

"And I'm sorting it out?" The Doctor glances over her shoulder, towards the corridor the fam disappeared down a few minutes ago to get ready. They'll be back any second.

It's not that the Doctor doesn't want the fam to know about her old companions. They've met Jack, know she hasn't been on her own all this time, but- still.

Her companions don't have the best survival rate. It's selfish, probably, to keep having them, and yet she somehow never goes without them for long.

(She's lonely, she knows it. She's not a good person on her own. She clings to these fragments of knowledge and calls it reason.)

"But why is there a dalek on tv, Doctor? New security drones, that's what they're saying. Do they not remember the whole Earth-moving, twenty-seven planets, dalek invasion thing?"

"Or the Battle of Canary Wharf?" Mickey adds, words heavy with an underlying anger. Rose was lost to save the world from daleks, after all.

The least she deserves is to have her sacrifice remembered.

"I'm not sure, to be honest," the Doctor admits, flinging herself onto one of the crystalline seats near the console. "It's incredibly weird, actually. As far as I can tell, the entire human race has forgotten that aliens exist at all. No stolen Earth, no Titanic flying over London or Racnoss star at Christmas. No Battle of Canary Wharf."

"That's- I mean, how does that even happen?"

"I have no idea. Something to do with collective consciousness, I'd guess. Some manipulation from another race wanting to remove Earth's knowledge and wariness of aliens. The Arkangel network is still flying strong in your orbit, after all. It wouldn't be so hard to harness the technology. Maybe even your own governments, or some rogue branch of Torchwood. I never did find Torchwood 2 or 4."

"Then how the hell do we still remember?"

"Probably my fault. You're still keyed into the TARDIS's neural network, so she's protecting you from the effects. Sorry about that."

"No, it's- it's good," Martha splutters. "Are you going to try and fix it?"

"Maybe," the Doctor leans back in her chair, pulling the phone cord as far as it will go. "Once all of this is over, I might look into it. Just to check if it's malevolent or not. It's not a bad thing, necessarily. To forget. Some of things they must have seen..."

She shakes her head to clear it. Can't let herself stop and think for too long, or she might never escape the whirlpool's tide.

"Anyway," Martha says - she always was good at noticing her spirals, circumventing them. "How's Donna?"

Nevermind. She speaks the words lightly, but in a tone that says she noticed the Doctor's avoidance earlier and is bracing for bad news.

"She's great!" the Doctor manages a smile, glad to have something, anything to latch onto that isn't her own thoughts. "Happily married, actually. Won the lottery a few years ago, doing very well for herself."

"That's- that's really good to hear."

"She doesn't remember me." She lets the words fall, as much as she wishes she could hold them close and buried and gone. But Donna needs to be kept safe, and Martha reaching out to her would be- not good. "She doesn't remember anything that happened. I- I had to wipe her memory, after the daleks. It was killing her."

The silence stretches longer this time, and for a moment the Doctor is sure she's broken everything.

"Well, I'm glad she's happy," Martha says eventually. "There are worse fates, right?"

So many of your companions have had worse fates, she doesn't say, but the Doctor reads between the lines anyway.

"Yeah," she breathes.

"And how are you doing, Doctor? You're not alone, are you?"

"No! I'm great, actually. Got my fam. Yaz is really cool, you'd love her. Ryan and Graham are great. Jack's back in town right now, helped me out of prison-"

"Helped you out of where?"

"-and we're just sorting out this whole dalek thing! Should be all over pretty soon. Just, stay where you are."

"You know we can't do that, Doctor." If anything, Martha sounds amused. Determined. Ready to pick up her sword once again, defend the Earth from whatever might be coming.

In this second, everything is right with the world, and she misses Martha Jones in a way that hurts both her hearts at once.

"Well, stay safe at least. I'll call you back when this is done, to let you know."

"Thank you, Doctor. Maybe we could, I don't know- grab a drink, or something. Catch up."

"I'd like that," she replies, and they both know she has very little intent on following through.

Yaz appears at the end of the corridor, eyes bright, smile warm. She's chattering to someone, probably Ryan, completely oblivious, no weight on her shoulders.

The Doctor wishes she could keep Yaz like that, happy, delighted, laughing. Wishes that smile was just for her.

But she might have ruined it forever.

She's learnt to trust the TARDIS over the years, learnt that the TARDIS arrives when she thinks the Doctor should be rather than where the Doctor wants to be. She wants to trust that this, too, was for a good reason. The TARDIS has never led her wrong, in the end.

She has to believe.

"Well, I'll let you crazy kids go be heroes. Beat up some daleks for me, will you?"

"Of course, Doctor," Martha says. The Doctor imagines her smiling, linking fingers with Mickey. "Stay safe out there."

"Always," the Doctor grins. As Yaz and Ryan approach, she jumps up, throws the phone back on its hook and grabs hold of the TARDIS's controls.

"Who was that?" Yaz asks, wary, unsure of how to act around her. They need to sit down and talk, hash out the last ten months - and nineteen years - but now isn't the time.

Unfortunately, the time rarely seems to appear.

"Just an old friend checking in," the Doctor shrugs, avoiding her new companions' eyes. "There's daleks on the tv, haven't you heard? Let's fix that."

She throws the TARDIS into flight with a delighted whoop - after all these years, the thrill of flight never quite fades.

She's lost companions before, but as Martha’s call has reminded her, not all of them have met bad ends.

She refuses to let the fam down on that one, too.

[capybaraonabicycle]

A Family Wedding - Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Rating: Teen

Summary: Jenny meets her mums’ friends and the wedding is drawing to an end

Warnings: Some innuendo and the dagger makes another appearance, also consummation of alcohol

Words: ~3000

AO3

Eventually, they made their way back to the party. The Doctor wanted to introduce her daughter to some of her friends and the Ponds had agreed that her and River couldn’t completely ignore their duty as hosts. Thus, Jenny spent the rest of the very long night talking to an endless number of people who were important to her mum in one way or another.

__

Bill and Heather immediately decided they were basically cousins and had to get together for space trips some time. Bill wrote her number onto a napkin and made Jenny promise she would get a phone so they could stay in contact. She also talked a lot about the eyebrows-version of her mum, saying it was a shame Jenny missed him. But at least now she got two badass mums and according to Bill, that was pretty perfect when it came to parents.

__

Missy, her mum’s best woman, casually mentioned she should abduct Jenny, as it would be the perfect leverage over her mum. This remark made Amy threaten her with the cake knife while Rory protectively put his arms around Jenny. Missy made a point of ignoring Jenny’s grandparents, promising Jenny would meet one of her regenerations again soon.

“Your mum is obsessed with me, Honeybunch” she said, trailing her nails over the blade of Amy’s knife thoughtfully, “I’m sure she will come running again with you in tow to foil my next brilliant plan. She can’t let me be on my own for a second. It’s quite embarrassing, really.”

She gave a little dramatic sigh at this, pushing the knife away to move past Jenny. “She just loves me so much.”

__

Kate Lethbridge-Stewart and Petronella Osgood were luckily part of an earlier version of UNIT than the one, Jenny had enraged. They were fascinated by her and she had to describe in great detail how the machine worked that had birthed her.

“Now, Kate” the Doctor warned her when she walked by and overheard, “Don’t you dare try building that device. I will come and destroy it, I promise you.”

Prompted by Jenny’s heartbroken gaze she explained why she was against the machine, recounting how it had been used to produce soldiers, dispensable to die in a day.

“Maybe I should build one then, the next time you are not traceable, Doctor” Kate joked to the Doctor’s affront, “Just so you’ll come running.”

__

Clara tried teaching Jenny the names of her Gallifreyan relatives. Apparently, she had met some of the Doctor’s family when she had been something she called an ‘echo’. It was quite confusing, really, because the Doctor kept contradicting her and neither of them were really sure how many siblings, nieces and nephews Jenny had in total. It was still great fun to see them argue whether the people they remembered actually existed and how they were related to her.

__

Captain Jack Harkness got as far as introducing himself to Jenny, when the Doctor already shot in between them.

“Back off my daughter, Jack” she growled, pressing both her palms into his chest to physically keep him from touching Jenny.

“Your daughter?” Jack asked, his eyebrows wandering up to his hairline.

“My daughter, Jenny” her mum presented proudly, just to return to her strict voice the next second, “And you are not to flirt with her.”

“I was just saying ‘hello’!” Jack complained which made her almost strangle him.

“Ianto Jones” the man next to Jack presented himself to Jenny very softly, considering the wrestling couple with quiet confusion and some distress, “His boyfriend.”

“Ah” Jenny said, grimacing, “So sorry for this.”

That made Ianto smile.

“Right back at you” he murmured.

__

Martha and Mickey found Jenny, when she was sharing a piece of wedding cake with River, expressing their relief that Jenny seemed welcome in the family. They talked about Donna for a while and Jenny learned that their friend had lost her memories after saving the Earth from Daleks.

Her mum recounted how when the Doctor first met her, Donna had been there, too. They exchanged a few stories about her, unanimously deciding they would have loved to know her better. Martha and Mickey said they sometimes checked up on her.

"Only from afar, though" Martha sighed. "She can't see us or else her memories might get triggered."

She and Mickey then told Jenny about their job, how they were freelancers now, hunting hostile aliens.

"Sounds fun" River commented and Jenny had to agree.

"You could join us some time" Martha offered, "Both of you."

"Really?" Jenny asked delightedly, grabbing River's arm in excitement.

"Of course" Mickey grinned, "It always pays to have some backup."

They added their phone number to Bill’s on the napkin and promised to let Jenny know the next time they had an interesting assignment.

__

“How is everyone immediately adopting me?” Jenny asked Yaz, Ryan and Graham, when they had proclaimed her part of the ‘fam’ as soon as they heard she was the Doctor’s daughter.

She had already gotten the invite to travel with Bill and Heather, Clara and Me and to live with her grandparents, Martha and Mickey, Jack and Ianto, Sarah Jane Smith and even the Paternoster Gang, although she had tried to avoid them after the pudding incident.

"The Doctor is family" Ryan shrugged. "Which means you're family, too."

The other two nodded in agreement.

“And we all know you can use the support with her being your mother” Ryan continued with a low chuckle, and Jenny stared at him with wide eyes.

“It’s nothing bad” he hurried to appease, “The Doctor’s great, she’s just…”

“The Doctor” Graham finished, and Ryan nodded as if all was said now.

“She’s a little chaotic” Yaz tried to explain.

Graham snorted, “Yeah, right, a little.”

“And irresponsible” Yaz added, “And most of the time you can’t understand a thing of what she’s doing or saying. And the things she does…they tend to go wrong.”

“But she’s wonderful” Ryan said and the other two nodded again.

“‘Brilliant’” Graham said with a low chuckle.

“She’s the best person I know” Yaz ended with a smile and Jenny found herself returning it.

“And you’ll have River and me travelling with you” Yaz concluded, gently nudging her with her elbow, “We’ll take care of you and among the three of us, we’ll also manage to take care of her.”

__

Jenny was just talking to a head in a box and a nice couple owning an antiquarian bookstore, when her mums approached her. They were exchanging conspirative glances and the Doctor was hiding her hands behind her back, so Jenny immediately decided whatever they were up to was more interesting than the blonde guy’s obsession with easter eggs. She excused herself and made her way over to her mums.

“River said you might still feel insecure about whether the TARDIS is your home” the Doctor said without greeting, “So, I got you a gift.”

She revealed a tiny package from behind her back with great flourish. It wasn’t much bigger than her thumb, obviously wrapped in leftovers from her own wedding gifts. Without knowing what was inside, Jenny decided it couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Thank you” she beamed and hurried to open her present.

Unfortunately, that was almost impossible for the amount of tape her mum had used. Now that she paid attention to it, it became apparent the Doctor had fought quite the fight against the tape - strips of it were also sticking to her suit jacket and her forearms. One even made its way into River’s hair and Jenny dreaded the moment she would find out about it. Luckily, she missed it when she wordlessly reached into her hairdo upon seeing Jenny struggling. She pulled out the mini dagger again, handing it over to her. With its help, the tape and wrapping paper soon were torn, and a silver key fell into Jenny’s hand.

“It’s for the TARDIS” the Doctor explained. “Now you can come and go whenever you like and stay as long as you like.”

“And once I’ve shown you how to fly her you can also use it to take the TARDIS out on your own whenever you like” River supplemented, and the Doctor glared at her.

“Don’t you dare encourage Jenny to steal my TARDIS!” she grumbled, “It’s bad enough when you do it.”

Then she turned and beamed at Jenny again. “But yeah, pretty much: Welcome to the TARDIS!”

Jenny felt herself tear up a little, clutching the key tightly. It was real! She had a family and a home and she was welcome.

She pulled both her mums into a hug, smiling when they embraced her tightly.

“Thank you so much” she murmured.

Suddenly, an aggressive flash blinded her.

“Oops, sorry” Bill said, lowering a vintage looking camera from her face. “It wasn’t supposed to do that.”

She fumbled with the flash a little bit until Heather took over and switched it off. When Bill raised her gaze again and noticed the whole family was still staring at her, she blushed.

“Don’t mind me”, she said. “I’m just repaying a favour. Have been taking pictures all night. You will want something to remember this day by, Doctor. And yeah, I recalled what you did for me with my mum and thought…I should do that for you, too.”

She smiled sheepishly and the Doctor looked like she was about to melt.

“That is a lovely idea, Bill” River found, pulling Jenny and the Doctor close again to pose for another shot, “You know what? We should get my parents and do a proper family photo!”

“Did I hear family photo?” Jack said, miraculously turning up behind Bill with Ianto in tow. “Can’t do that without uncle Jack!”

“Oh, they most definitely can” Missy chuckled, appearing next to him. “This is not about you, puppy. It’s just for real family members. Like me.”

She pushed past him, positioning herself next to the Doctor and facing the camera with a thin but content smile. “I’m ready when you are, Loves.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s not happening” Jack decided, joining River’s side and slinging his arm around her waist, pulling Ianto with him into the frame.

While Bill shot the photo, Jenny could see more guests taking notice, some approaching them fairly quickly.

“Seems like everybody wants to have their picture taken with you” River whispered to her and Jenny chuckled.

“I am 100% certain it’s about you and mum” she answered although she couldn’t deny she felt important in the middle of the frame that more and more people crowded into.

“You should be in the picture, Bill” the Doctor called out when Sarah Jane was ushering a couple of teenagers and a metal dog to sit down in front of them. “If anyone’s family, it’s you! Just give the camera to Nardole.”

“Yeah, thank you, Ma’am” Nardole frowned. “Always a pleasure to know how much you appreciate me.”

He still took the camera from Bill and she and Heather hurried to the space the Doctor and Jenny cleared between them. It was a little tight now as Missy refused to budge but Jenny just threw one arm around River and the other around Bill and smiled for the photo Nardole shot of them.

It took a while until everybody who wanted to be in the photo had found their place and someone had tracked down a waitress to take the picture. In the meantime, a lot of quirky photos were shot by and of various combinations of the Doctor’s friends. Later they would be glued to the walls of the TARDIS hallways and Jenny would come back to them often to trail the faces of her mums’ loved ones and remember the night.

There would be a picture of Mickey and Martha kissing with Amy photobombing behind them, a picture of Wilf and Rory having exchanged their suit jackets and beaming like idiots and a picture of Jenny, Bill, Heather, Nardole, Yaz and Ryan in a group hug that Graham took as a very blurry selfie. There would be a picture of when Jack had decided to hoist Jenny onto his shoulders and another one of when Clara, Ryan and Yaz had followed suit, respectively carrying the Doctor, Graham and Bill on their backs with varying degrees of success.

Then there would be a picture of Jenny with her namesake which had made them giggle way too much, and another picture that the other Jenny had taken of her with Vastra and Strax, because ‘no-one would see the difference’. Which was an even sillier joke but made Jenny understand how much she liked the Paternoster gang after all. Especially because Vastra and Jenny had promised her fencing lessons between the shots.

There would be a picture of her mums kissing both of Missy’s cheeks simultaneously while Missy wore a decidedly unimpressed expression, a picture of Kate, Osgood, Martha and the Doctor trying to evoke an air of semi-professionalism as ‘UNIT-representatives’ that was completely ruined by the mess of people goofing around behind them and finally the Pond family picture River had asked for. They had to take three versions: one featuring Missy, one Jack and one on which both had begrudgingly left them alone.

But Jenny’s favourite photo would always be the one they took in the end, before everybody dispersed and went on to enjoy the party. The big group photo, with her mums in the focus and everyone surrounding them. The photo they took while she was standing right beside them, between her grandparents, Rory’s arm around her shoulder and Amy’s hand in hers and the happiest smiles possible on all their faces.

__

Then it was finally time to leave. Almost all the guests had gone and Clara and Ashildr were collecting the last of them in their diner-shaped TARDIS. All that was left now were Jenny, her parents and her grandparents.

“We’re taking…the kid…with us” Amy said. She was slurring and Jenny presumed she had found another bottle of vodka.

“No, why?” the Doctor complained, clutching at Jenny’s arm. She seemed a little drunk as well, although Jenny couldn’t fathom how. There had been next to no alcohol in the pink drinks. “I’ve let you have her the whole evening already.”

“Jenny will come visit us soon” Rory tried to reassure Amy. His ductus was considerably clearer than hers, but he was swaying a little as well. “She has promised, remember?”

Jenny’s hearts swell a little when she understood Amy must have recounted their discussion on the balcony to him. They’d been talking about her!

“We’re still -taking her” Amy decided, “Or do I needo…- do I need to remind you …what happened in our wedding night?”

“I did” River supplemented smirking. Rory went very pale while Jenny shrieked, hiding her face in River’s shoulder.

Her mum chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Go with your grandparents, Love” she advised, pulling her into a hug and kissing her cheek, when Jenny looked up at her, “Have a splendid night at their place and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, mum” she grinned, returning the kiss to the cheek. Then she turned around to the Doctor.

“We’ll come pick you up first thing in the morning” her mum said, holding her tightly, “I promise.”

“I know” Jenny murmured, amazed by how sure she was of that now, “Have a good night, mum.”

“Oh, she will” River said. The Doctror spluttered and Jenny tensed.

“Mu-um!” she complained, giving her a stern glance. Still, she couldn’t help smiling, when she added: “I hate you!”

River threw her head back laughing.

“No, you don’t” she said.

“We’ll be there tomorrow” the Doctor repeated when she let Jenny go.

“For once…-I am hoping, sh-she will be a month late” Amy murmured, pressing Jenny to her side and thus swaying her lightly.

“How about breakfast at the Ponds together? As a compromise?” the Doctor offered, and Jenny nodded quickly.

“That sounds perfect” she said, and her mum beamed at her.

“Breakfast it is, then” she decided, “Don’t you lot worry, I can bring the custard creams.”

“Yeah, give us till noon, though, Doctor” Rory mumbled, “I’ll need a lot of sleep now.”

“We’re not goingdo - going to sleep” Amy complained, “We’ll have an afda-afterparty. Movies,… facemasks, goss-gosspip.”

She pulled a face at her own slurring which made Jenny chuckle.

“Yeah, you don’t really b-believe that either” Rory commented, gently taking her arm and steering her towards Clara’s TARDIS. He stopped himself to yawn loudly and reach for Jenny’s hand. “Let’s get all of us to bed.”

They waved goodbye and then Jenny took Rory’s hand and followed her grandparents to the diner. Before they passed the TARDIS, she turned around one last time, seeing her mums standing in the ever-setting sun on Darillium. They were facing each other, River’s hand cupping the Doctor’s cheek, the Doctor’s hands on her shoulders and talking in quiet voices. They seemed perfectly comfortable with each other, exhausted, but happy, like they had finally arrived home after a very long journey.

‘We all have’ Jenny thought, when they started slowly kissing and she turned around to her grandparents again, ‘We’ve all come home now.’

Hey :) Thank you so much for reading this series! This is the end, at least of the wedding and of the story, but I’m sure Jenny is about to have many adventures with her mums. Thank you so much to everyone who has left comments, you are all incredibly kind! <3

And thank you so much @elsaistherelifeonmars​ for letting me play with your story! <3

This fic is inspired by ‘The Wedding of River Song’. Go, check it out, if you haven’t already :)

[thiswasinevitableid]

14(+44?), 16, or 71 for indruck! (71 could also be cute for dani/aubrey)

I went with 14, SFW! I’ll also do 16 at some point.

14: The power goes out in our apartment building, but i’m not prepared for this, and you come to check on me

Duck’s playing his old Tony Hawk game just for the hell of it when the power goes. Judging by the suddenly dark building out his window, it’s not just his building, but the whole block. 

He’s gonna go out on a limb and assume the huge-ass snowstorm has something to do with it. It’s only six p.m, but it’s so fucking dark his brain thinks it’s midnight, so maybe he can just go to sleep. Thank fuck the heat in this place is gas and not electric. 

Duck putters around, refills Taco’s water dish, and changes into his sweatpants and t-shirt, figuring he’ll read on his phone until bed.

There’s a clatter-crash above him, followed by a thud and the kind of curses someone makes when they’re alone. 

He takes advantage of living in an old building with thin walls and floors. 

“‘Drid? Everythin okay up there, man?”

All the scuffling ceases, then, “As much as it can be.”

Duck grabs the nearest sweatshirt and his keys, tossing another blanket over Taco before heading out the door and up the stairs. See, Duck is a guy with lots of soft spots. And one of those soft spots has “Indrid Cold” stamped into it. 

He barely saw the man the first year he lived here, though he heard him plenty. Footsteps at all hours of the night, music that either ping-ponged wildly between genres or stayed on the same song for the whole day, and only ever one voice to go along with it all. 

The first time they met, Duck nearly fell off his balcony. 

“Those look lovely.”

He drops the watering can, whirling to look up. An angular face with red glasses and a mess of silver hair peers over the edge of the railing above him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. I, ah, I just meant the plants are very nice. The rosemary in particular seems to be thriving.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks. Uh, how long have you been watchin me?” He’s in a tank-top due to the heat, but was shirtless until a few minutes ago.

“A number of weeks. Oh dear, ah, that sounds creepy. I just mean that I can see your deck from mine, and sometimes I end up watching it instead of focusing on my work. I’ve never seen so many pollinators come to such a small space; it’s amazing.”

“Huh.” Duck tongues his cheek, not sure whether to be flattered or alarmed. 

“Do you want a Capri Sun? They're cold.”

He chuckles, “Sure, why the hell not? Send one down.” 

There’s a plastic thunk and then a beach pail comes down on a rope to deliver his drink.

In spite of that odd start, he and Indrid started talking more, to the point the other man would come down and sit on the balcony while Duck gardened or Duck would sit in Indrids chaotic apartment and read while Indrid did tarot card predictions over the phone. During those five months, he discovered Indrid is a disaster magnet; broken glasses, a broken-into car, an almost broken ankle due to slipping in the first frost of the season. Hence his trip upstairs, just to be sure nothing is wrong. 

He knocks, gets a “come in,” and cannot see the other man anywhere. And the apartment is freezing.

“Bedroom!” Indrid calls from down the short hallway. Duck shuts and locks the door, picks his way over crumpled drawings to find his friend no more than a pile of fabric on a mattress on the floor with an unplugged trio of space heaters pointing at him. 

“You want me to turn the heater up?”

“You can’t. It’s broken. The repair man was supposed to come this morning but had to cancel because of the roads.” Indrid’s face appears from a black blanket. 

“Shit, you got no way to heat the place? My little hand-power radio says this might last until tomorrow mornin.”

“I was afraid of that.” Indrid sighs, “I’ll just hope that the blankets are enough. The bang you heard was me tripping over the one I was wearing as a shawl.”

Duck holds out his hand, “Or you could come a floor down where there’s  a workin heater, goofus.”

“I, ah, suppose I could. I won’t be in your way?”

“Just don’t take Taco’s blankets and we’ll all survive the night. Grab whatever you need for the night and I’ll meet you down there.”

As he tromps down the stairs, he reassures himself that he’s just being neighborly; he’d check on anyone in the same circumstances. But his heart still bubbles with excitement when he thinks of Indrid in his house in the snow-covered darkness. 

He’s pulling all the blankets from the closet when the door opens and shuts. Even with his heater working, they’ll need to bundle up. 

“I’ll just put my things by the couch.”

“Works for meAH, what the fuck?” He pulls his foot back from where a box narrowly missed landing on it. Minor scare aside, he can’t think of anything better to fall from the sky. 

“Hey, you like s’mores?”

“...Yes? Though I feel like a campfire, while tempting, is ill-advised.” The other man is perched on the couch, fidgeting with his sweater sleeves. 

Duck shows him the box, “Got this at a white elephant swap at work last year and never used it. Supposed to make it so you can make s’mores inside. Wanna try?”

“Absolutely” Indrid tears into the box and begins setting up what looks like a fondue pot’s long-lost cousin, retrieving the matches from their usual spot on the counter while Duck finds the marshmallows, a half box of graham crackers, and left over hershey minis from Halloween. 

“Is having s’more supplies on hand a requirement of being a ranger?”

“Trade secret” Duck plops down across from him, the flames adding an eeriness to Indrid’s features that does nothing to Duck’s desire to take his hand and hold him until he’s warmed through. 

Indrid makes it through four s’mores in the time it takes Duck to eat one and a half, and is licking his fingers in a painfully appealing way when he muses, “Should we tell scary stories? I understand that goes hand in hand with roasting marshmallows.”

“Havin some summer camp flashbacks?”

“No. I never went, which was probably for the best. I’m not sure accident-prone children with glasses do so well in such places. Though I was always curious about kayaking.”

“Can take you in the spring if you want. There are lakes in the park where it’s allowed. Could even paddle out to Floating Island if you wanted to draw.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Indrid smiles, “I almost finished the drawing for Jane, it will be ready in time for Christmas.”

“Thanks, ‘Drid.”

Indrid licks molten sugar off his fork and Duck searches for a distraction from the way his tongue moves.

“You ever hear the story of the hook-handed man?”

“What?”

“It’s an old camp story. You seriously never heard it?”

“I’ve heard references to it. Now I want the full experience.” Indrid leans in attentively. Duck does his best, but it’s not quite s scary when you’re in an apartment  with three locking doors between you and the outside world and the only place a murder could hide is in the closet Duck was just in. Indrid doesn’t jump at the ending, but he applauds, 

“My turn?”

“Go for it.”

“Hmm. Ah, okay, once upon a time, there was a lonely artist who lived in a barren land. Every day he would sit and stare at an oasis of green, but he could not get too near. Until, one day, the caretaker of the oasis invited him in. The artist felt so happy when he was there, the caretaker was one of the nicest men he’d ever known. And the, ah, the artist wanted to know if, if he would, ah, like to go out with him. Maybe tomorrow?”

It takes Duck’s mind two seconds to catch up with what just happened and in those seconds Indrid looks increasingly like he’s going to bolt out the door.

“Not much of a scary story.” Duck teases gently. 

“I’ll have you know I am terrified right now.”

Duck links their fingers, “No need for that, darlin. I’d love to go out with you.”

They could re-light the whole block with the power of Indrid’s smile. 

“In the meantime” Duck snuffs the flame on the table, “let me keep you warm?”

Indrid tugs him into an embrace, kissing his cheek with an excited hum and laughing when Duck chases his lips for a proper, tender kiss,  “Of course.”

[darling-i-read-it]

Dolce

3x06

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.9k 

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, blood, drugs  

Author’s Note: I don’t want to leave Florence :( but i do be missing the dogs 

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar 

Official Episode Summary: Jack seriously doubts Will's loyalties as the two renew their alliance. Mason Verger plots Hannibal Lecter's capture, while Lecter plans for his final stand.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll​ @ericacactus​ @vlightning95​ @sweetgoodangel​

(not my gif) 

all gifs @/rocktheholygrail

Hannibal sat in the bathtub. His head leaned against the side of it. Bedelia sat beside him. She wrung a sponge over his broken, beaten and cut body. Hannibal's eyes landed on hers and his pain saw you, wishing that you were there. He had been waiting for you and Will to arrive, wishing that it was going to happen. He wanted it to be you cleaning his wounds. 

He needed it to be you cleaning his wounds.

His wish to have you come with him in the first place that was so strained he didn’t even realize the severity of it until just that moment. In pain, bleeding, sensing the end of something.

-

Jack Crawford looked at the dead body of Pazzi. It was being carted off by the police, the duck tape still pressed onto his face. Jack was tired. He had gotten a few scratches from his fight with Hannibal but none as severe as Hannibal’s. 

Will walked up to Jack. Jack saw him out of the corner of his eye and situated himself toward his former colleague. 

“He’s wounded and worried.” You emerged from the crowd behind Will and gave Jack a simple look. Both of you were scratched up. Dried blood covered Will’s forehead and there was a scratch on your cheek. You both clearly had been through something but Jack had not time to ask. 

“Hannibal doesn’t worry. Knowing he’s in danger won’t rattle him any more than killing does,” Will said. The three of you looked into the Atrocious Torture Exhbiit, the place where Hannnibal and Jack had fought it out. 

“If Rinaldo Pazzi decided to do his duty as an officer of the law, he could have detained Dr. Fell and determined very quickly that he was Hannibal Lecter. Would have taken thirty minutes to get a warrant,” Jack said solemnly. 

“All those resources were denied to Pazzi. Once he decided to sell Hannibal, he became a bounty hunter,” Will stated. You scoffed.

“Serves him right. Mason Verger is trying to capture Hannibal himself for purposes of personal revenge. I've often wanted to use my own resources to drop him in his pig's den,” you muttered. 

“Have you told la polizia they’re looking for Hannibal Lecter?” Will asked Jack.

“They’re motivated to find Dr. Fell inside the law. Knowing who he is..and what he’s worth, will just coax them out of bounds.” 

“It would be a free-for-all,” Will pointed out. 

“And Hannibal would slip away.” Jack paused. Both you and Will were facing opposite directions, looking at different artifacts. “Would you slip away with him?” 

You and Will shared a look. 

“Part of me will always want to,” Wil said. 

“You have to cut that part out,” Jack argued. 

“You aren’t FBI anymore Jack. You can’t tell either of us what to do,” you sneered. You believed that. Jack had no bearings over your feelings for Hannibal. You were annoyed he thought he had any. 

“So you’ll go with him to jail?” Jack asked. You faced him completely. 

“If I had come with him to Florence he wouldn’t be going to jail.”

“And that’s what you want?” Jack challenged. You stepped forward to him.

“I hate to see you win Jack.”

“You had him. He was beaten. Why didn’t you kill him?” Will asked, stepping in. Jack, eyes still on you, considered it.

“Maybe I need you to.” 

-

Hannibal looked out the window. He was wearing a cozy sweater, cuddling into it for the last glimpse of hope he may get before a cage. He sketched into his book. Memories of Florence. 

“I want to be able to draw these streets from memory. I want to be able to draw the Palazzo Vecchio and the Duomo,” Hannibal said whimsically. Bedelia approached him and took the book from his hand.

“You won’t be coming back here for a very long time,” she whispered.

“Memories of Florence will be all I have. Florence is where I became a man. I see my end in my beginning.” 

“All of our endings can be found in our beginnings. History repeats itself and we can’t escape it,” Bedelia stated, turning into the home. Hannibal glanced at the small suitcase. Hsi coat was draped over it. 

“You packed lightly,” he stated. 

“I packed for you.” She paused a moment and off his questioning look, moved forward. “This is where I leave you. Or more accurately, where you leave me.”

Hannibal nodded slowly. His eyes scanned from the suitcase to her eyes. In essence he was aware he was giving up his Florence hope of you and him. He was aware that he was saying goodbye to Bedelia and also your alternate self. 

In hopes to see you again, perhaps for real this time.

-

Bedelia put a needle carefully on her table. She saw the face of Chiyoh in the back of her mirror and turned around simply, confused at her presence. 

“You must be looking for Hannibal Lecter. One of his patients?” she questioned. 

“No, not a patient. Where is he?” Chiyoh asked. Her gun was in her hand delicately. It looked like it weighed a feather. 

“Gone. Seeing how you let yourself in, I hope it’s not too forward to ask, who the hell are you?”

“Family,” Chiyoh landed on. 

“Ah. You’ve come a long way from home,” Bedelia pointed out. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m his psychiatrist.” Chiyoh glanced at the ampoule and needle. Bedelia shrugged.

“Medicinal purposes.” Chiyoh studied her further, her eyes narrowed. 

“You’re like his bird. I’m his bird, too. I met another one, on the train ride here. He puts us in cages to see what we’ll do.”

“Fly away or dash ourselves dead against the bars,” Bedelia suggested. 

“You haven’t flown away.” 

-

Hannibal Lecter looked between the Primavera and his sketchbook. He was drawing it for the thousandth time but this time, in place of the garlanded nymph was your face. In place of pale zephyrus was Will.

Over Hannibal’s shoulder, Will walked into the room. Slowly, the suit that he was wearing suddenly seeming so stuffy. Will’s eyes landed on Hannibal for the first time since Hannibal gutted him. Both men battered and bruised. 

He moved forward and gently laid a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal looked up at Will and smiled, pleased to see him. Will sat down beside Hannibal and for a moment they both absorbed the moment.

“Good to see you,” Will said.

“If I saw you everyday forever, Will, I would remember this time,” Hannibal said as he stared at the man that he loved. They stared at each other for a moment and Will’s smile seemed the brightest thing Hannibal had seen in so long.

“Strange to see you in front of me. Been staring at afterimages of you in places you haven’t been in years,” Will stated.

“To market, to market, to buy a fat pig. Home again, home again, jiggity-jig,” Hannibal said lightly.

“I looked up at the night sky there. Orion above the horizon and, near it, Jupiter. I wondered if you could see it, too. She wondered if our stars were the same.”

She. 

You. “I believe some of our stars will always be the same. You entered the foyer of my mind and stumbled down the hall of my beginnings.” 

“I wanted to understand you before I laid eyes on you again. I needed it to be clear what I was seeing,” Will explained. 

“Where does difference between the past and the future come from?” Hannibal questioned. 

“Mine? Before you and after you.” He paused. “Yours? It’s all starting to blur. Mischa. Abigail. Chiyoh.” 

“How is Chiyoh?” 

Between both boys shoulders, you emerged. You were wearing a gorgeous dress that you usually wouldn’t have pulled out. You bought it here in Florence. It reminded you of Hannibal. Plus your other clothes were bloodied. You looked just as battered and bruised as they did. 

You all pulled it off with a regal amount of elegance. 

“She pushed us off a train,” you said. Hannibal turned around to see you. The first time you had laid eyes on each other since you had kissed. It was interesting for Hannibal now. He had to double check that Will had heard you too. 

“Atta girl.”

“Ah, it hurt,” you said. You walked around the bench and sat between them. They allowed you enough room. You looked at Hannibal and smiled. He smiled back at you. 

“We have begun to blur,” Will said after a moment more of absorbing.

“Isn’t that how you found me?” Hannibal questioned.

“Even as the possibility of free will dissipates, my experience of it remains the same. I continue to feel and act as though I have it.”

You looked over at Will and then back at Hannibal. You placed your hands on your lap.

“Why did you let Bedelia live?” you asked. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I figured she had been long dead, gone through and out of your digestive system at this point. There should not have been an ounce of her left so imagine my surprise when I see her completely alive. Confused and lying, but alive.” Hannibal looked into your eyes and you understood.

“I think you know why.”

You held your gaze and then had to leave it in fear of getting emotional.

“Every crime of yours feels like one I am guilty of. Not just Abigail’s murder, but every murder streching backward and forward in time,” Will said after a moment. 

“Then what’s left to do? Freeing yourself from me and me freeing myself from you, they’re the same. No longer seeing you in people who aren’t you Y/N. You are part of his equation just as much as Will and I.” 

You smiled solemnly.

“We’re conjoined. Curious if any of us can survive separation,” you mused. 

“Now’s the hardest test: not letting rage and frustration, nor forgiveness, keep you from thinking.” Hannibal stood up and gestured for you to take his hand. “Shall we?” You took it and stood. Will’s hand was already interlaced between yours, something you did subconsciously when you sat down. 

You all stood.

“After you,” Will muttered. 

Together the three of you left the gallery. Worse for wear but something blossomed in your hearts, something that only the other two could bring out. You had walked only a few steps before Will was shot to the ground.

-

Hannibal held Will close to him, trying to get him into the chair. You stood beside him, helping him take his jacket off. Will winced and fell forward, his chin on your shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” you whispered. Will’s shirt was soaked with blood. It was dripping down his arm from where the bullet wound entered. 

“The bullet is still inside you. This will hurt.” Hannibal took the jacket all the way off and Will watched as Hannibal cut off his shirt. The three of you hadn’t been this close since you were last covered in Will’s blood.

“Chiyoh’s always been very protective of me,” Hannibal said as he looked into the wound.

“Tell her to back the hell off,” you sneered.

“Did she kill her tenant or did you?”

“She did,” Will choked out.

“Excellent.” Hannibal took Will’s knife you didn’t know he had with him, back into his limp hand. “You dropped your forgiveness, Will.” You stared at the blade, bloodied. You caught Will’s eyes. He hadn’t told you he had brought a weapon. “You forgive how God forgives. Would you have done it quickly, or would you have stopped to gloat?” 

“Will?” you whispered.

“Does God gloat?” Will asked.

“Often,” Hannibal answered.

Hannibal moved a sharp needle into Will before you even noticed he had it. Will dropped the blade into Hannibal’s waiting hand. Will passed out. 

Your mouth hung open as your gaze held the knife. You still had your hand putting pressure into Will’s wound but it loosened. 

“I didn’t know,” you whispered, looking up at Hannibal.

“I know,” Hannibal responded. “You wouldn’t have done it anyway. I’m going to dress his wound and get the bullet out. Would you mind waiting in the kitchen? Dinner is almost ready.” 

You were so stunned that you stood up. You felt the pull of needing to be by Will but wondered what he would have done to Hannibal. Would you have gone with it? 

Chiyoh was right.

You were not the kind of girl who followed a man's lead.

You grabbed Hannibal’s shoulder and pulled him up.

“Why are you staying?” 

“Why didn’t you come with me?” 

You stared at each other. 

“I love Will.” 

“The Bloody Valentines.” You scoffed and took the knife from Hannibal’s hands. You threw it off to the side. 

“Will is drugged.” 

“Are you going to drug me Hannibal?” You stared at each other and he kissed you feverishly, the way he had wanted to since you kissed him last. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him for dear life. You hadn’t touched him in so long. 

You pulled away after a moment. 

“I wanted to go,” you whispered. “I regretted now going.” You pulled away and stepped back. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Please fix Will.” 

-

Will’s eyes fluttered open. Hannibal walked into the dining room with a large bowl in his hands. Will had a dish set out in front of him.

“I do not indulge much in regret, but I am sorry to be leaving Italy. There were things in the Palazzo Capponi I would have liked to read,” Hannibal admitted. In from the kitchen came you, holding a different dish. You placed it on the table.

A last dodge attempt at normalcy. 

“I would have liked to play the clavier and perhaps compose. I might have cooked for the Widow Pazzi, when she overcame her grief. I would have liked to show you both Florence.” 

You sat down beside Will and spoon fed him some soup. He looked over at you, confused, doped up.

“The soup isn’t very good,” he slurred.

“It’s a parsley-and-thyme infusion, and more for my sake than yours. Have another sip, let it circulate,” Hannibal explained. Will took another spoon from you. Will and you finally noticed the final place setting at the end of the table. 

“Are we expecting company?” 

-

Hannibal grabbed your arm tightly and stood you up. 

“It will be Jack,” he told you.

You glanced at Will, out of his mind and slowly losing sight. Hannibal was giving you the invitation you had wanted since Jack stepped into Will’s classroom to talk about Garret Jacob Hobbs. 

-

Jack opened the door to Pazzi’s home. He had his gun held up high as he looked around every corner before he stepped forward. Eventually, Will at the end of the table came into view.

He walked forward and up to Will who blinked, focused on Jack and took a deep breath.

“Hannibal’s under the table, Jack,” Will muttered. Before Jack could react you had grabbed him from behind and a blade slashed Jack’s achilles heel. 

Jack dropped hard.

Hannibal turned to you and his gaze softened. 

“You will not join me in prison,” he whispered. Your eyebrows furrowed. He grabbed your arm and shoved a needle into your side. You let out a small, betrayed sigh and passed out.

-

Jack came to and found himself seated opposite Will. 

“I’ve taken the liberty of giving you something to help you relax. Won’t be able to do much more than chew, but that’s all you’ll need to do. I didn’t have an opportunity to ask you during our last encounter, but did you enjoy the exhibition? A different kind of evil minds museum,” Hannibal said to Jack.

“Not so different,” Jack retored. He noticed you were gone from the room. 

“The promoters are failed taxidermists who formerly got along by eating offal from the trophies they mounted things that bring people together.”

“We were supposed to sit down together back in Baltimore...the three of us. And Y/N.” 

“You were to be the guest of honor,” Hannibal said, ignoring the mention of your name. Hannibal poured himself a glass of wine and took a leisurely sip.

“Where…” Will started but he didn’t finish. 

“Jack was the first to suggest getting inside your head,” Hannibal said. “Now be both have the opportunity to chew quite literally what we’ve only chewed figuratively.” 

Hannibal held a bone saw in his hands. Jack suddenly realized what was going on. For a moment, all Jack could think about was what you would say if you were in the room. 

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” 

Blood trickled down Will’s head despite his protests.

3x07

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Wonderland by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Tagging: @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

Chapter 2: Emma Swan

Emma sat on the plane with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. She had never felt so trapped in her entire life. She bit the inside of her cheek and her knee began to bounce nervously.

“Emma, everything is going to be alright.”

Emma glared at her mother. “Easy for you to say, you aren’t about to be a prisoner in the middle of the fucking ocean.”

“Don’t you dare talk to your mother with that language.”

Emma narrowed her eyes in her father’s direction. “Apologizes Mother.” The woman smiled sadly. “Happy now, Dave?” She added icily.

“Emma Grace Nolan!” She smirked; her father hated that she had begun calling him by his first name. A fact she took great pleasure in.

The pilot announced that they would be landing, and she turned toward the window, avoiding further conversation with her parents.

Growing up the heiress to the Nolan empire would have been a gift to anyone else, but Emma had always considered it a curse. Her entire life she had been expected to dress to perfection, act like royalty, and most importantly, never soil the family name.

“What’s your name?” “Wouldn’t you like to know!” “Girl, you are in a lot of trouble right now. You can tell me your name or not, either way I’m going to find out.” “Go to hell, officer.” “Have it your way.”

The jolt of the wheels touching down tore her from her thoughts. She closed her eyes, wishing she were anywhere but here.

“I can do this on my own.” She said defiantly as her parents followed her to the waiting limo.

“Not happening.” Her father nodded at the driver and opened the door, waiting for Emma to enter the car before sitting down beside her.

“This is ridiculous, I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

“David.” Her mother scolded.

They rode the rest of the way in awkward silence. When Emma stepped out of the limo, she grabbed her mother by the arm. “If I have to do this the least you can do is let me go in alone.”

Her mother stared at her, and her face softened.

“Emma we just want you to get better. You’re sick.”

“Yeah, well I’m here right? I’m on an island I can’t escape from. What is the harm in letting me walk in there on my own?”

Her father grabbed her bags and started walking up the path to the center. “David.” He turned around, making his annoyance clear. “I think Emma can do the rest on her own.” He paused, looking between them both and then setting her bag down.

“Fine.”

She bent down and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Well, I’m off to prison.”

“Don’t think of it that way, Emma.” Her mother pleaded.

“Whatever.” She turned and walked away, not bothering to look back, choosing to ignore the pain on her mother’s face or the anger on her father’s that she knew was the mask he used to hide his concern.

She swung open the door to the center and walked up to the front desk. The man dressed in a security uniform looked up at her. He was gorgeous, but not the type of gorgeous she was used to seeing. Men in her circle knew they were good looking and with that brought the attitude and money to get any woman they wanted. He had a more down to earth sexy look that she didn’t see in the men she knew.

“Name, please.” He didn’t even bother to hold her gaze, he looked away and frowned.

“Emma Swan.”

“Say’s Nolan in my logbook.” He glanced at her and shrugged.

Emma groaned, ok gorgeous but annoying.

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

She looked around anxiously as the man typed into his computer. Across the hall her gaze landed on the bluest eyes she had ever seen, staring holes into her. The corner of his lip turned upward into a cocky smirk. “Take a picture, it will last longer.” She cursed under her breath.

He strolled across the room toward her, her breath catching in her throat at the intensity of his stare. “Haven’t met Regina yet, have you lass? No phones allowed; thus, I am forced to burn every naughty detail of you into my brain so that I may use it later...” He leaned closer to her ear; his breath hot against her skin. “for personal reasons.”

The guard at the desk cleared his throat. “Jones, I know it’s your first day, but rule #3 makes this entire exchange completely pointless.”

“Aye, but I still have one hand left to take care of matters myself.” He held up his hand, gesturing with his middle finger toward the guard. Only then did Emma notice the missing appendage on his left side, forcing her eyes to return to man who was drawing her ire.

“What’s rule #3?”

The man smirked and walked away from her. “Good luck, Miss Swan.”

The guard stood, “Ignore him, he’s still adjusting to his first day.” He walked out from behind the desk, Emma was quick to notice that this man obviously worked out. Wonderland certainly didn’t seem to be short on attractive men, no matter how aggravating they were, at least it had great scenery. “Let me take you to Regina, this way.”

“Regina?”

“She’s the manager of WRC. She’ll go over the rules with you.”

“Like rule #3?”

“Ah yes, the no sex rule.”

Emma’s eyes widened, before she was ushered into the large office.

“Regina, I have a new patient. Emma Nolan.”

“Swan. Emma Swan.” She corrected. At least the annoying jerk with the amazing blue eyes and sexy swagger got her name right, even if he was mocking her while using it correctly.

“Please sit.” The woman spoke, gesturing her to the seat across from her. “Thank you, Graham.” The guard left the room and closed the door behind him.

“Miss Nolan, welcome to Wonderland.”

“Look, I prefer Swan, but just call me Emma, since no one seems to listen to my requests around here.”

“I don’t care what you want to be called. Honestly, my job is to ensure your recovery, Emma. That’s all.” She opened her file and began reading. “Born Emma Nolan.” She looked up at her and smiled. “Daughter of David and Mary Margaret Nolan of the Nolan Empire.” She sat down the binder. “Your father owns all those hotels across the world, is that correct?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yeah, boring.”

“Ah, not impressed with daddy’s money but more than happy to spend it, I’m sure.”

“Don’t pretend you know me.”

“Oh Emma, I don’t have to know you, I know your type. Born with more luxury than most people could ever dream to afford yet so deeply afflicted that you are afraid you’ll never get the one thing you desire the most.”

“And what would that be?”

“Being worthy of the family name.”

“I already told you, I don’t even want that name. I don’t give a fuck about being a Nolan.” The woman smiled and Emma looked away angrily. “Aren’t you supposed to give me the rules or some bullshit, or are we done now?”

“Of course, lets talk rules. You will have individual sessions with Dr. Hopper three times a week as well as group therapy once a week.”

“Can’t wait.” She mumbled and the woman grunted angrily before continuing.

“You’re to be in you room with lights out at 10pm each night.”

“I’m 20, not 12”

“You’re also not in a hotel and you will obey my rules or there will be consequences. There will also be no sex on these grounds.”

“So, I’ve heard. This place is a real downer.”

“Dr. Whale will provide you all of your mediation.” She picked up her file again and glanced through it until she found the information she needed. “Anxiety medication, as needed, as well as Birth Control medication, it appears.”

“Not sure why I need that here.” She scoffed.

“We allow our female patients to continue with their usual regimen since most have plans to leave and return to their lives. If you have plans to stay longer, I can let your Dr. know you won’t be needing it.”

“I never said that.”

“In that case, let me continue, there is a gym on site, as well as a registered dietician to use as needed. So now that we got that out of the way, we just need to sign the paperwork and I’ll need your cell phone.”

Emma yanked her phone out of her pocket and tossed it on the table. “Just give me the papers.”

She passed them toward her, “Please sign, Emma Nolan, that is your legal name.”

Emma grumbled as she took pen to paper, signing her name.

“You can make a phone call to mom and dad after you complete the first 14 days of your treatment.”

“Yeah right.”

“In any case, it will be available if you have changed your mind by then. Now let’s go meet your roommate before your first session with Dr. Hopper.”

“So much excitement, I can hardly contain myself.”

The woman did not hide her contempt toward her as they walked out of the office. Emma knew Regina’s type. She had seen it plenty of times before from the women who looked down their noses at Emma even as they attended her parent’s fancy parties. Those were the women who thought Emma was undeserving of her life. She hated women like Regina Mills. Eventually she would have to find a way to convince this lady to let her go home. She studied her cautiously as they walked. She would do what she always did, find a crack, and expose it.

“Ruby, I have your new roommate, Emma.”

Emma eyed the girl lying on her bed, engrossed in a magazine. “Bed’s over there.” The girl pointed to the other side of the room and the empty bed.

“Dr. Hopper should be ready to see you as soon as you unpack.” Regina nodded to the women and exited quickly.

“She’s a real piece of work.” Emma whispered under her breath.

“The word you’re looking for is bitch.” The tall dark-haired girl added.

“Glad it wasn’t just me thinking that.”

“You won’t have to deal with her much unless you break the rules, so obviously I see her at least once or twice a week.” She grinned.

Maybe she might actually like her roommate.

“I don’t know how you could even walk around here without breaking rule #3 at least once or twice a day.”

“You mean the eye candy?” Ruby mused. “It’s like they’re asking us to break that rule.”

Emma laughed heartily. “That security guard sure is nice to look at.”

“Graham, yeah he’s a bit of a straight arrow. He’ll flirt but I’ve never so much as even been able to convince him of a blow job. And he reports everything back to Regina, so I would tread lightly there.”

“Shame, he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Trust me, wait til you meet the men in our group session. They’ll have you wet and ready before you even leave your seat, I spend most of the session squirming in my chair, but then I’m also a sex addict so maybe it’s just me.”

“You can actually be addicted to sex?”

Ruby shrugged, “Yeah it’s a thing. Hop says I spend too much time worrying about my other vices and not enough looking at the reasons behind why I feel like I need sex all the time.”

Emma had never really enjoyed sex. But then she’d only ever been with Neal, so she didn’t have a lot of experience to compare it to. “So, what’s this Dr. Hopper like? Anything I should know?”

“He’s a nice guy, but not much gets by him. He asks more questions than you’ll be ready for. Best just to answer and move on.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Twenty minutes later, seated across from the curly haired doc and Emma understood what Ruby meant about his number of intrusive questions.

“So why do you think you are here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? My dad is pissed at me and sent me here for punishment.”

“Why do you think your dad is mad at you?”

“Embarrassment, not obeying him, and three thousand other stupid reasons he gets mad at me every day.”

“Why do you think he would be embarrassed?

“Why would you do this Emma?” “Why do you care?” “Emma, I’m your father, I just want to understand why you would get involved in any of this? You knew how bad this would look if you got caught.” “Ah yes, what you actually mean is how bad it would look for you.” “Drugs, breaking and entering, stealing…Emma? Why? Why didn’t you talk to us?” “Don’t start acting like you give a damn now. This is the first time I’ve seen you in three months.”

“He’s David fucking Nolan. Do you know how much money he paid just to keep my arrest out of the news?”

“Do you think he might have been protecting you?”

She laughed loudly, thinking about how absurd it sounded to her. “His business is his number one priority. Trust me, he doesn’t want anyone to find out about my…” She stiffened. “My uh, arrest.”

“You were arrested for breaking and entering, as well as possession of a schedule 2 substance, is that correct?”

She laughed. “It was a joke. We broke into a hotel of one of my dad’s competitors. Stole some cash.”

“We?”

“Um, a friend.”

“Were you also doing drugs with this friend?”

“Well, he wouldn’t be a friend if he didn’t share his drugs.” The joke fell flat as the man stared at her, making a note in his book. “Look it wasn’t a big deal.”

He flipped through the pages of her file. “You were high on cocaine the night you were arrested, is that correct?”

“I know, what a cliché, rich kid arrested doing coke.”

“It says in the report that you were the only one arrested. Where was your friend?”

“Took off. Gotta look out for yourself, right?” Emma chewed on her nails uncomfortably.

He paused and she braced for more questions about her friend but was surprised when he moved on. “How long had you been doing cocaine?”

“I dunno, a few years. Everyone was doing it at parties, its not a big deal.”

“You spent 11 months in jail, isn’t that correct?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Did something bad happen in jail?”

Emma flinched.

“Emma you can do it. One more push.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” She yelled, crossing her arms, and staring out the window. “Actually, I’m done talking at all today.”

When he became resigned to the fact that she had no intention of answering any more of his questions, he released her from the session. She stormed back to her room, unsure how she was going to survive this place. She hated being drilled and questioned by someone she didn’t even know.

God, she needed a drink.

She threw herself on her bed and groaned loudly.

“Told you the questions were brutal.”

Emma looked over at her new roommate. “What do you do around here for fun?”

The girl grinned. “Wanna get your heart rate up?”

She leaned onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, her head cradling into her hand. “Somehow I don’t think you mean that in a way that is actually interesting or fun.”

“Come on. Trust me.”

She begrudgingly followed the girl through the hallways until she yanked open the double doors and paraded into the large gym.

“Ok you definitely lost me at physical exertion.”

“I said to trust me.”

She grumbled as they both walked over to the treadmills. “I don’t understand how exercise equates to…”

She gestured toward the opposite corner of the gym. “Nothing beats a good work out when you have something like that to look at.”

Emma watched the man remove his shirt and she grinned in the direction of her roommate. “Ok I’ve learned to trust you. You do know where all the fun is around here.”

“That’s Jefferson. Hot as hell, great in bed.” Emma stared at her, mouth standing open.

“You’ve had sex with him? Here?”

“Oh yeah, got a week of solitary for it but it was worth it.”

Emma increased the speed on her treadmill when two other men entered the room. The one Graham had called Jones with the blue eyes and smug attitude and a shorter man striding beside him.

“Oh, he’s new.” The girl sang beside her.

“Apparently it’s his first day. Graham called him Jones. Real asshole though.”

“Oh, even better, those are the best ones in bed.” She pointed to the guy next to him. “That’s Will. He’s hilarious, only got him to kiss me once, he has a fiancé waiting for him at home. Boring. Just don’t listen to a thing he says.” She laughs. “Compulsive liar.”

Emma watched as Jefferson greeted the two men. He lifted his shirt above his head and Emma felt her mouth go dry staring at his chest, a patch of dark hair trailing down into the waistband of his sweats.

“One hand, never done anyone in that situation before.” Ruby whispered.

The man stood in the corner, lifting one of the weights with his right arm, glancing in their direction. Emma increased the speed on her bike again, feeling the sweat starting to roll down her back. She swore she saw him smirk in her direction and she felt the fire between her legs start to burn. She broke eye contact with him, focusing on the numbers moving in front of her.

“Hello ladies.” She turned to see the one Ruby called Will approaching them.

“William. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Ruby Red, baby, glad to see you are back in general. Who’s your friend?”

“Will, Emma. Emma, Will.” Ruby introduced them, her voice coming out in strained breathes as she ran next to her.

“Lovely to meet you, I’m Will. Though you may have seen me on television.”

“Sorry, don’t watch a lot of television.”

He frowned and Jones approached them. “We meet again, Swan.”

“How unlucky for me.” She punched the stop button on her treadmill and slowed her pace as the machine came to a crawl.

“Was it something I said?” He laughed as she grabbed a towel and slung it over her neck.

“You breathed.” She groaned.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Her roommate stepped off her treadmill and held out her hand to Jones. “Ruby.”

“Pleasure is all mine, lass. Killian Jones.” He greeted.

“Aren’t you that pirate?”

“Aye, busted.”

“I knew it! Did you know that was him, Emma?” She squealed.

Emma stared at the two of them. Pirate? She squinted her eyes, staring at the man. She had no idea who he was. “Sorry, no idea, don’t care, honestly.”

He sauntered up beside her, dropping an arm around her shoulder. “Perhaps you know me by my more colorful moniker, Hook. Captain Hook?”

She grabbed his hand and plucked it off her shoulder. “Delightful and also ridiculous, but Sorry haven’t a clue who you are, don’t care for fairytales.”

“Never wanted to be a princess then, love?” His arm now sliding down around her waist.

She grabbed him by the hand, twisted in his grasp and pushed him to the ground, whipping his wrist behind his back. “I told you, I’m not interested.”

He laughed. “You sure about that, love.”

She leaned closer to his ear. “You couldn’t handle it.” With one sweep he wrapped his leg around her and flipped them over, his body pressing into hers.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.” His tongue clicking in her ear. In an instant her body caught fire at the tone of his voice, and the feel of his body on hers.

Asshole.

Her knee met his groin in a fury, and she felt him tense above her, rolling to his side with a loud groan. “Bloody minx.”

She stood up and peered down at him. “You deserved that.” She looked back at Ruby who was in the midst of a giggling fit. “Let’s get out of here.”

The girl wrapped her arm around Emma’s waist. “You are going to be so fun to hang around.” She laughed. “I bet you are amazing in bed.” Emma glanced sideways at her, not sure if she was hitting on her or just making a remark. “Would be worth a week in solitary to find out.”

Yep, definitely flirting with her. This place was going to be interesting.

[spartanguard]

even death won’t part us now (4/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

rated M | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | AO3 | 5.8k words

A/N: Happy Labor Day, friends! (If you’re in a place that celebrates it) (if not, then Happy Monday!) It took me a bit to figure out where this chapter would end and the next one would start but I finally got it, so here we are! This chapter is a bit more lore/world-building than CS, but it features Zelena and Belle, who are a lot of fun to write. Hope you enjoy it! Eternal thanks, as always, to @optomisticgirl​​​ for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair​​​ for her amazing art (THIS ONE IS SO COOL OMG); and to @kmomof4​​​ and @cssns​​​ for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

have some OBC—and check out that sweet late ‘50s choreography!

part four: you got some high times ahead

Perhaps if Killian was less of a romantic, less dramatically inclined, he would have remembered the best way to get to Granny’s without being noticed by David would have been to stay on the rooftops. As it was, he had to sprint several blocks in the other direction after bidding Emma adieu to ensure her father didn’t catch him in the neighborhood when he hardly had a reason to be there.

Who knew that, at 270, he’d be sneaking out of his girlfriend’s place to avoid her parents? He hadn’t even done that at 27. (Also, who thought that, at 270, he’d actually be using the term ‘girlfriend’? Was it too soon for that? Was it immature? Did he care? No.)

But, thanks to his superior age and therefore speed, it was no challenge to detour all the way to Hudson Yard and take in a bit of sea air before heading back into the city, eventually hopping across apartment buildings to better avoid being seen, and landing gracefully in Granny’s back alley. He was late, but he didn’t have it in him to care much.

He didn’t want to let his friends down, though, so he didn’t hesitate to slip in through the rear door of the diner. Frankly, that entrance got just as much use as the one on the street did; not only was Granny’s a neutral site as far as vampire gang warfare went, it was something of a liminal space in the middle of the rush of the city: how many 24-hour diners catered to the tastes of all manner of nonhumans? Fae conducted business here on the regular, Bigfoot was known to make the occasional appearance when he was down from the Adirondacks, and the owner herself was a werewolf.

The woman in question gave him an appropriately feral grin as he entered the dining room; normally, he’d take the time to flirt, but the meeting had clearly started without him. Robin and David were seated on opposite sides of a small table, with their teammates around them—Henry and Will, another younger vampire (well, comparatively) were with Robin, and David was backed by that Graham guy, Jefferson the weird milliner, and Zelena, who he knew was close with Cora (and had been plain annoying as far back as he could remember).

“Switchblades?” Robin said; they’d clearly made some decisions without him. That might make it a bit harder for Killian to quash this.

“No; swords?” David countered.

“Daggers?”

“Stakes?”

“Icicles of holy water,” Killian interjected into their back and forth, somehow making them jump. “Sharpened stems of garlic. How many cliches can we hit on here?”

Robin looked appropriately chastised, but David just glared.

“What did I miss?” he asked Robin, but David answered for him.

“Rumble, tomorrow, same time as now. Under the highway. Winner gets control of territory between 42nd and 43rd. We were just deciding weapons.”

“Are you all mad?” he blurted out. “That’s a fine way to draw the attention of half the NYPD and blow the entire supernatural world’s cover. You may as well take out a billboard in Times Square.”

The ensuing silence told him they knew he was right. But he could tell tensions were too high for him to convince them to call it off entirely; he could at the very least minimize the potential damage. 

“Back in my day,” he started, immediately ignoring the huff of frustration from Will, who had been subjected to any number of such stories in the past 30 years, “we settled these disputes one-on-one. A duel, if you would. I see no reason why such a tradition has to die.”

Again, he was met with silence; he took the lack of protest as agreement.

“One on one,” he continued. “The most evenly matched from both sides fight it out until blood is drawn. No weapons, no teeth.”

Jefferson looked incensed at the idea, and he could tell Will was angrily shifting behind him. If they wanted to duke it out, they could do that on their own; Killian’s days of fighting were well behind him and the sooner this was over, the better.

“I can agree to that,” David eventually said.

“Aye,” Robin replied, and they shook on it.

Graham stepped from behind David and pointed at Killian. “I’m going to enjoy drawing your blood, mate,” he threatened.

Emma hadn’t mentioned it, but he’d gotten the impression that Graham was the preferred suitor. But frankly, he found him irritating. “Oh? Are you 250 years old?”

“No; 160,” he answered, slightly deflated (which gave Killian a tiny, immature thrill).

“Then I believe you’re perfectly matched with Robin here; he’s 168.” He slapped Robin on the shoulder for emphasis.

Robin stood and inserted his hand between Killian and Graham. “Looking forward to it,” he bit out.

Slightly bewildered, Graham accepted Robin’s hand, but was still glaring at Killian. 

They verified the details, gave it one last shake, and then Coroza was quick to leave. Which was just as well; Killian didn’t need any daggers, real or metaphorical, shooting in his back while he was drinking.

The four of them congregated at the counter and were promptly greeted by Granny. “That smelled like trouble,” the old wolf stated plainly, but leveled a too-sharp eye on all of them. “Should I be worried?”

“Your establishment is perfectly safe, milady,” Robin assured her. “You know we’d never dare risk the loss of your hospitality.” Though the mortals were somehow unaware of the fact, she’d been running some sort of eating establishment in the same spot as far back as Killian could remember, though back then it was a public house and she was merely the Young Mrs. Lucas (the title of ‘Granny’ didn’t come for another century). Not only was it neutral ground, but it was too beloved for any one group to let it fall into any crosshairs.

“Damn straight,” she grumbled back, then got their drink orders ready.

Henry and Will quickly fell into conversation, so Killian turned to Robin. “Why wasn’t Regina here?” He’d fully expected it, given that she’d been part of this for...well, ever.

“She decided to sit this one out. Figured it didn’t make for good negotiation if Nolan was involved.”

“Good call.” But then a pang went through his unbeating heart at the recollection of what Emma had been telling him—about why she grew up an orphan, and who was to blame. He’d known Regina quite well by that point in time, and had no idea why she’d attack a couple like that—especially all the way in Maine. It didn’t add up.

But then, how much of this petty rivalry did?

Robin went on, not noticing Killian’s discomfort. “Aye, especially with Zelena there. You know how they are.” The rivalry seemed especially bitter between those two for reasons that Killian had yet to glean. 

Granny gracefully distributed their drinks in a feat of dexterity that was obviously superhuman, and they clinked a toast—though if Killian’s was less than enthusiastic, the others didn’t notice.

They continued to chat about whatever—the Yankees, the Mets, Liverpool FC (three of the four of them were Brits, after all, even if two of them predated the club), construction at Hudson Yard—until Killian noticed that Henry had given up trying to down the god-awful blood-spiked beer Will had foisted on him (the man had been a punk in the ‘80s when he was turned and never quite grew out of some tastes), and was instead staring longingly at another patron’s burger. Killian hadn’t had a chance to assess just how recently Henry had been turned, but that confirmed it was a very new thing; it took surprisingly little time to forget a taste for mortal delicacy.

He leaned over and whispered to Henry, “If you ask nice, Granny will make one extra rare for you.” Henry jumped again, clearly still getting used to his new senses, but perked up at the idea. 

“So fresh, you can still hear it moo,” the old wolf commented from behind the counter. The hungry grin that accompanied it would probably be unsettling to most, but Killian had known her far too long to see anything but good humor (and more than a smidge of flirtation) in it. 

“Ah, a quiet meal,” he quipped back. “Most of mine tend to be rather...talkative.” The group shared a chuckle; perhaps that joke was a bit dark, but when you could only go out at night, that tended to happen.

Unfortunately for Henry, he didn’t get a chance to try the meal before Will was dragging him out (something about videogames, apparently; that was one trend Killian had never much caught onto). Robin followed shortly, heading for for Regina’s, leaving Killian alone at the counter with Granny.

“You know that battle’s not gonna be the end of it, right?” she said as she placed another shot of bloodrum in front of him and poured one of her own.

“Aye, but it can’t hurt to try.”

“No, I suppose it can’t.” She held her glass up to him; he clinked his against it and they downed the shots together. But she continued after they swallowed. “You do know about the prophecy, though, right?”

He looked up in surprise. “The what?”

“I don’t know the details, but I’ve heard it’s the only way to settle things once and for all. If you really want to end this rivalry, you’re gonna have to go to the top.”

He wanted to ask more, but she wouldn’t go into further detail, instead going to serve a pixie at the other end of the bar. He racked his brain; he couldn’t recall ever hearing anything about a prophecy, and few had been around as long as he had. Hmm; perhaps he had a visit to make later. 

But first: Granny had left the bottle of rum on the counter, and he needed a few more shots before he could truly unwind from what had been a tumultuous night. 

Before he did that, however, he did dig out his phone to call Gold and appraise him of the situation. Honestly, it probably wouldn’t mean much to the man—given that neither he nor Cora were involved, it might not even be official—but still, he should know.

To Killian’s surprise, he took the news in stride. “Fair’s fair; if that’s what everyone agrees on, I’m fine with that, and I’m sure Cora will hold up her end of it, too.” Killian was less convinced of that but if Gold was, he wouldn’t argue. “Extend my best wishes to Mr. Locksley, will you?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Actually…” It was probably stupid, but Killian needed to know. “Sir, are you aware of a prophecy?”

The other end of the line was so silent, he feared they’d been disconnected, until Gold’s voice returned with a hard edge in it. “Where did you hear that?”

“Just a rumor,” Killian lied; it was easy to over phone. “I’ve only heard of its existence, but not what it’s about. Do you—”

Gold cut him off. “Whether or not a prophecy exists is of no concern of yours. Just make sure Locksley wins that fight.” And then the line truly went dead.

Killian stared at his phone in confusion for a moment; just what had that been? Gold didn’t just sound angry; he almost sounded scared.

Which meant that whatever was in that prophecy, it was important—and if Killian wanted to put an end to all this, and ensure he and Emma had a chance at a life together, he needed to find out what.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Emma had just gotten out of a (rather long) shower when her dad and the crew arrived back at their place. Not that their townhouse was any sort of official Coroza hangout; the Nolans were just the most hospitable—something to do with David growing up on a Midwestern farm—and always keen to invite people over.

Either the meeting hadn’t been that long, or she’d been bathing for a while—both were likely, because she’d taken her time in making sure Killian’s scent was washed off of her. It’d be noticeable, especially if they’d just been in his presence. 

Right after she’d gotten out, before she’d even gotten dressed, she had gone to text him to ask how things went—until she realized she still didn’t have his phone number. Dammit. But the voices she could easily hear in the lower level of the house would tell her everything.

She was a little surprised to see that Jefferson had joined them; he was something of a loner, even though he’d been around for a couple hundred years and was reasonably close to Cora. 

Closer still to Cora, though, was Zelena, who was sipping a glass of bloodwine off to the side of where the guys were gathered on the sofa in the living room. She always seemed to pop up out of nowhere; honestly, it would creep Emma out if she didn’t know that she was one of the oldest vampires in town.

“Emma! There you are.” Emma jumped at the frantic way Snow blurted the greeting, and had to rely on her superhuman reflexes to grab the wine glass that was shoved at her (honestly, if she’d been able to react at even a fraction of this speed when she was alive, maybe she’d have lived up to her last name). “It’s drinking time.”

“Did the meeting go that bad?” she asked, watching as her mom took a long drag from her own glass.

“Actually, it was rather refreshing,” Zelena said drily. “Historically, at least one person ends up dead in these sorts of things. And I really didn’t feel like washing blood from this blouse tonight.”

Snow just took another long, panicked drink. Zelena was never known for her tact (although Emma did have to agree that her green v-neck was gorgeous).

“So what did happen?” Emma had never been that great an actor, so hopefully her feigned indifference was convincing.

Zelena caught her up on the plan—a one-on-one fight rather than an all-out brawl. It was still more than Emma would have liked but certainly not as bad as it could have been. 

“It was headed that way,” Zelena responded to her comment, “except for Jones apparently being the only one with any brain cells still alive in Aurum.”

“Jones?” she blurted, unable to hold back at mention of Killian. Shit.

But thankfully, they read it as confusion; being one of the youngest vampires in the coven had its perks. “He’s the one you were dancing with,” Snow murmured.

“Oh,” she said, pretending to be ignorant (and that she didn’t know what his kiss tasted like).

“It was his idea for single combat. Makes me wish we had a soldier on our side—or just, you know, anyone with any sort of battle strategy. Humbert here was ready to tear his head off at the suggestion, even though it was a good one.”

“Are they the ones fighting?” Emma had to ask; it was the one time she’d let her mom think she was showing concern for Graham.

“Humbert is, but he’s facing...oh, what’s his name—Robert? Robbie? Something like that.”

It took effort not to look too relieved, so she hid her reaction in her drink. 

“I’m just glad it’s not David,” Snow said, having emptied her glass. 

“Then why are you drinking so much?” Zelena sneered.

“Because this was my night to get drunk! Aurum can’t take that from me.” And without another word, Snow disappeared back to the kitchen; Emma was pretty sure she heard the liquor cabinet open, where she was pretty sure a bottle of sanguiria was hiding.

Which left a slightly awkward silence over Emma and Zelena while the boys continued to lecture Graham on fighting (what good would that even do at this point? How had he not made it a century and half without knowing these things?) She rolled her eyes at them. “At least this’ll be the end of it, right?”

“We’ll see,” Zelena answered and took another sip. “I don’t see how something dating back 400 years will be settled by two assholes in a parking lot, but they can certainly try.”

“This rivalry seriously goes back that far?” She’d been told vague stories of the bad blood between the covens, but they all started with cliches like “many moons ago” and “once upon a time.”

“Ugh, I swear—we need to make this part of new vampire orientation or something,” Zelena complained. “Cora and Gold used to be lovers; he’s the one who turned her.”

“Holy shit.” Emma had not seen that coming. She’d have believed it if one of them had killed the other’s family or something—and Killian’s story wasn’t far from her mind—but actually lovers? “They must have had the worst breakup ever, then.”

“Something like that,” Zelena confirmed. “Gold—or Rumplestiltskin, as he was known back then—” (which was a revelation all on its own—) “meddled with Cora’s family in a way that was unforgivable. He took one of her daughters.” 

“Cora had daughters?” God, how many bomb revelations were going to be dropped on her tonight? (And was separating kids from their parents just an Aurum thing or what?)

“Two. And you’re talking to one of them.”

Emma’s dropped jaw had to suffice as a reply to that. Hopefully, her mom had saved her some sanguiria. “Wait—so he...did he...you…?”

“Did he turn me? No; I practically begged Mum to once I got of age. But Gold stole my sister and that caused the rift, among other things. So I really don’t see this little kerfuffle solving anything.”

There wasn’t much to say to that other than hum in agreement; no wonder things got so heated. Emma still thought it was silly, but having a frame of reference helped. She didn’t know if that made her predicament easier to deal with or harder, though.

“And it’s too bad, really,” Zelena continued. “I’d love to see my sister again, and then you could be with Killian.”

For the first time in 15 years, Emma choked on blood. “Um, what?”

“Darling, I’m 383 years old; you’re probably safe from anyone else here noticing, but I can still smell him all over you; he positively reeked earlier. And I hardly blame you. Frankly, you two might be our only hope.” Emma really wanted to ask what that meant, but was too busy mentally panicking and praying no one else heard this exchange. “Don’t worry; your secret’s safe with me,” Zelena promised, handing Emma her now-empty glass. “Just don’t be an idiot about it, alright?”

“All—alright,” Emma stammered.

“Good. Well, I’m off,” she said casually—and much louder; Emma hadn’t even realized they’d been whispering. “Good luck tomorrow, everyone,” she called as she headed for the door, but her eyes were locked with Emma’s before she made her exit.

Quickly, Emma finished her wine—just in time for Snow to refill it (with some claret; honestly, she didn’t care what it was as long as it had blood and alcohol. She would have settled for finding a drunk frat boy outside a party if that was what it took). That was...a lot to unpack in one night, and she had never been very good at that—side effect of being a foster kid. 

She wondered how much of it Killian knew; he had to know at least some of it, right? And what had Zelena been talking about—how were they the “only hope”? (What was this, Star Wars?) She didn’t want to be any sort of savior; she just wanted to jump her vampire boyfriend’s bones without causing a gang war. And, you know, the happily ever after stuff her mom was always talking about.

The two of them wordlessly continued to share the bottle of booze and stare out the window as the sun’s early rays started to brighten the buildings across the street. At some point, Jefferson and Graham had left, which helped Emma relax but didn’t remove the tension.

Outside, the moon was starting its morning fade; she’d be counting the hours until it made its evening appearance—‘til she could see Killian again.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian only just made it into the library before the full sun was shining on the entrance. He’d have to steal an umbrella or something when he left, but with any luck, it would rain like it was supposed to this afternoon and he’d be fine. 

He loved the library—the scent of ink on paper, the quiet hush of knowledge being shared, the occasional squeal of joy—but all was quiet and still at this early hour, especially since they weren’t technically open. (But he knew which door was usually unlocked, and if he didn’t show up on any security camera, then what was the harm?)

He would have loved to linger in the stacks, and might yet later, but he was on a mission, and instead made a beeline for the rare book collection and archives—the one place without windows, where a vampire could actually work in peace.

He made little noise as he pressed the heavy door open and stepped inside the musty room. It was pristine—not even a dust mote swirling in the lights.

“Unless you’ve somehow managed to make an everything bagel with blood, we’re not open,” the petite librarian called out from somewhere in the recesses of the space. Of course she heard him.

“I was never much of a baker, love,” he replied. “But how about some bloody earl grey?”

He’d only just moved his arm to the side, ensuring the safety of said tea, when a small but solid form was wrapped around him tightly. A few seconds later, it was slapping his chest.

“Killian Jones, you fils de pute! You didn’t tell me you were coming back!” Belle chastised, even though she was grinning.

“What, and ruin the surprise?”

She rolled her eyes, but chuckled. “Merde, but it’s good to see you,” she said, pressing up the few inches her heels didn’t cover to press a kiss to his cheek. “And you, too,” she added, but this time directed towards the tea. There was exactly one Starbucks in the city that catered specifically to vampires, just a couple blocks from here; hopefully, corporate never investigated the contents of the extra “red syrup” the undead staff kept stocked, though considering neither the location nor staff had changed in at least 15 years, they were likely in the clear.

“Why do I get the impression this is more than just a social call?” 

She knew him too well; he supposed that was to be expected after 150 years. “Perhaps I just came here to help one of my best friends; had you considered that, eh? What are you up to today?”

“Digitizing, as always, and I think there’s an appointment later to see some old Broadway posters. And whatever it is that’s brought you here, obviously.”

“You wound me.”

She glared at him as she took a sip from her cup—surprisingly menacing for one so seemingly docile, but it was also hard to believe that the dainty woman before him was a 200-some-year-old creature of the night. (Though it certainly took that amount of practice to run around a library in platform heels the way she did.) “Just what are you up to, Captain?”

He took his own drag of tea as he studied the aging leather spines in a glass-locked cabinet on the closest shelf, noting that the two of them were both likely older than the tomes, and yet showed no such signs of wear and tear. “It’s not anything hugely important, just a bit of gossip I heard, but figured you would be the one to confirm or deny it.”

“And what’s that?”

“With this whole ageless coven war, have you ever heard of any sort of...prophecy?”

He turned his head to look at her; were it not for the way she licked the tea off her lips, he’d think she was a statue. “Where did you hear that?” she finally murmured.

“Granny.” He couldn’t lie, and Belle wouldn’t judge.

“Yeah, she’d pick up something like that,” Belle had to admit. “Sharp old wolf.”

“So it’s real?”

Belle nodded. “It is, but no one’s said anything about it in...gosh, at least a hundred years. It goes back ages, though; I believe to the start of all this.”

“Does it say anything about how to end it?”

She sighed. “Yeah, it does. But let me finish my tea first.”

He truly had come to see her—not just for information; they’d first crossed paths sometime during the 1860s in Australia and been fast friends ever since. Killian couldn’t even remember what Gold had sent him there for, but Belle had come back to New York with him on one of his trips and stayed in the city ever since. She was originally from France, but after being turned (and losing her family) during the Reign of Terror, she fled the continent for England and hopped on the first ship out of Europe—to a penal colony on the other side of the world. Thus her odd combination of French curses and Australian accent. (Though after long enough, most vampires developed hard-to-place accents on account of their nomadicity; his likely only identified him as British due to his recent time spent there. And it hardly mattered in New York.)

She caught him up on anything he’d missed in the last decade that Robin hadn’t already, but didn’t betray the one thing he’d been hoping she’d mention: whether or not she was currently with Gold. He kind of hated how well they’d hit it off when he introduced them, but in the intervening decades, he’d lost count of how many times they’d broken up, made up, married, divorced, or just been “on a break” (it wasn’t a stretch to say they were a real-life Ross and Rachel; her apartment even had a purple door). They were freshly divorced when he’d left, but that didn’t mean much.

While she was taking a last, long dreg of tea, he had to ask. “And how are things with Gold?”

Suddenly, the cup was flattened and thrown with some precision to the trash bin near the door.

“Excellent, I take it?”

“More like completely done. Forever.”

He’d heard that before, but wasn’t about to contradict her. “What now?”

“Believe it or not, that’s one thing you haven’t missed—we haven’t gotten back together since you left.”

That had to be a record. However, he sensed that wasn’t all. “But?”

“But he’s tried on numerous occasions,” she sighed. “I’ve had enough, though; the shady dealings, his weird hangup over Cora, acting like king of his own empire. I’m not just another one of his playthings for him to control—oh, sorry.”

It wasn’t unusual for Belle to forget who she was talking to while ranting; however, “I’m not going to refute any of that, you know.”

“I know, just—I know you don’t have a choice.”

“Few have one.”

“Well, someone might—which brings us to the prophecy.” 

She started off for the back of the room, where the oldest books were kept; he had to jump to keep up with her (not like it was hard, though).

“Have you ever heard the legend of the Dark One?” she asked as she grabbed an ancient-looking set of keys and knelt in front of an even older-looking case.

“It sounds familiar,” he replied, though he couldn’t pinpoint anything solid about it—just a name, almost a fairy tale, that had popped up over the years. 

She pulled from the case what looked like a journal in a very fragile state and quickly moved it to an exam table (or whatever it was called—he didn’t spend that much time back here). “According to all the tales I’ve heard, the Dark One is the most powerful dark sorcerer in the world. Not only are they immortal, they lay claim to their power by murdering their predecessor. The story goes back centuries, and continues today.” As she told this, she carefully flipped through the pages of the book, which was written in an old language Killian only vaguely recognized. 

“So you mean to tell me the Dark One is alive and kicking, even now?”

“Well, alive is a loose term. Also, he’s here in the city—and he’s your boss.” She stopped on a page near the center, and despite the aged parchment, the drawing on it bore more than a passing resemblance to Gold. “Not only has he held the title the longest, he was also the first vampire to lay claim to it. His existence is...I hate to say unprecedented, given how long he’s been around, but it’s definitely unique.”

How had he been unaware of this? True, there had always been something sinister about Gold that Killian hadn’t been able to put a finger on, but he just assumed it was because the man was an utter conniving bastard and had centuries to perfect being so. Not that he was also in possession of the darkest magic known to man. Few had any extra sort of magic—Cora was the only other one he knew of, and she wasn’t shy about it. Gold, apparently, was, though.

“How on earth did you find that out?”

“Well, he told me.”

Yeah, something like that would probably come up in pillow talk over the course of 150 years. “And he, what, gave you his notebook of devious schemes?” Killian asked, nodding at the book.

Belle snorted. “Not quite. I tracked this down myself about a hundred years ago.”

“So he doesn’t know about it?”

“Nope,” she confirmed, rather satisfied. “At least, he doesn’t know I have it. It was after our first divorce. See, he’s also spent plenty of time trying to hold onto that power and I, in my ire, decided to see if there was a way for him to lose it. Turns out, there is.”

She carefully flipped another few pages to one with just a few lines of text, in an older English, but easy enough for Killian to read:

Only one without creator live Can destroy the dark and survive. At truest love’s closing hour Will they eliminate the power

“And what exactly does that mean?” he wondered; he’d never encountered prophecies in the real world, but Harry Potter certainly seemed to have nailed their ambiguity.

“In simple terms, that only an orphan—someone without living parents—can kill him and end the line of Dark Ones. He did some awful things to orphanages years ago.” Belle shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cool temperature. “But ‘creator’ is a bit nebulous, especially with our kind,” she went on. “For us, it could also mean someone without a living sire. He’s also been known to target those.”

“Aye,” and it was Killian’s turn to shudder; he certainly had that kind of blood on his hands, although he’d usually been given a reason when taking out a hit on Gold’s orders. It was generally hard for anyone to get away from their sire—you couldn’t exactly kill someone when they had the ability to simply tell you to stop. The Nolans were an exception (one he still wanted to talk to Regina about); in fact, the only one he really knew of was… “Emma,” he breathed.

“Emma? Is that the girl whose scent is all over you?” Belle teased.

“Yeah, it is,” he told her, a bit sheepishly, but he had no time to stammer. “She doesn’t have a sire; she killed hers right after he turned her.”

“Impressive. I already approve of her.” Not that he needed Belle’s approval, but other than Robin, she was the closest thing he had to family—and that felt good.

“Even if she’s with Corona?”

“You know I don’t bloody care. Hell, I might like her more, then.”

That made him chuckle, but he needed to know more about the subject at hand. “What’s the rest of it mean, then?”

“Honestly, anything. ‘Closing hour’ is up for even more interpretation—could mean marriage, could mean death.”

“But we’re already dead.”

“I know. So I’ve no real clue. But I can spend some time on it, if you think she’s part of this.”

“It’s worth a shot; whatever it takes to end this feud.” Which gave him another, almost terrifying thought: “Does Cora know this?”

“That I don’t know. But I got the distinct impression it was part of why he turned her.”

“So she couldn’t kill him?”

“I think so. She was after power, whatever she could get; I think that’s why they got together in the first place. She was still mortal, then, and something of a witch, which...you’re already aware of. Turning her was always part of the plan, I gathered, but I think he moved up the timeline on it when he found out about the prophecy.”

“If she did find out, I can see why that might cause a legendary rift.” It would explain a lot of things, really.

“Precisely. And given my own dealings with the man, it’s easy to see why that went south.”

“At least you were already immortal,” he said knowingly.

“True,” she agreed, patting his hand. 

“What about you? Where’s your sire nowadays?”

“No clue. I saw her my last time in Paris but that was 50 years ago. And trust me—if I could kill him, I would have by now.”

They shared a laugh, but Killian was more laughing at the idea that she’d be willing to off him; despite her rage, he knew she still loved him, deep down, even if she didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore.

She put the book away as methodically as she’d taken it out, locked the case, and glanced at the clock. “Well, I’d love to hear more about this Emma, but I suppose it’ll have to wait for another day; my appointment is in 20 minutes and I haven’t pulled anything yet. But maybe we can get some tea again in a couple days?”

“Sounds perfect, my dear—and thank you for your assistance.”

“My pleasure; hope it helps.”

“Anything does at this point.” He gave her a parting peck on the cheek and began to walk away, hoping it was still early enough he could stick to the shadows of the skyscrapers just fine, but then she called out again.

“Oh, and tell Will to call me, would you?”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her; surely she was joking. “Will? That wanker? Why?”

She shrugged. “I guess that’s one of the things I didn’t tell you from the last 15 years.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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