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hurdlehoops · 3 years

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SPN did Market Research for Dean & Cas

Disclaimer: Yes this is a sock for safety reasons. Post is long, but please read it.

No shit there I was checking my email, as you do, and I saw I had a screener from one of the market research groups I’m signed up with. On average, I do a market research thing every 3-4 months because I like non-reportable money. And giving my opinions. And talking to people behind 2 way mirrors without having to go to a police station.

Market research itself was early December, 2016. First email contact with the screener was late October or early November.

I see it’s an “offsite,” meaning a market research company is subcontracted by another company who wants to do the market research at their own facility, but doesn't want to find the participants on their own, so they use the Market research company (in this case Schlesinger and Associates) as an intermediary. I can’t remember if this screener identified itself as being for TV, not all do, some might identify only as entertainment, and some might be even more vague until you get into the screener. Regardless of the identification for the screener (TV or entertainment), I fill out almost every screener I receive unless it’s obvious, from the subject, they won’t want me (ie looking for certain types of professionals)- it didn’t matter, then, if the subject matter was something I particularly like, I would’ve filled it out anyway.

After normal, but more detailed than usual demographics questions, the screener asked about TV habits. Eventually, it said the word “fandom” and asked what TV fandoms I’d count myself in. It was roughly a list of 20 shows and listed “fandom” (defined as I watch every episode and read additional materials about the show. Note this is not what fandom itself would consider fandom, but people most fandom dwellers would still count as GA). Beyond fandom, one could indicate they: watch all episodes but don’t seek out more, watch most episodes, have seen some episodes, watched a few, or haven’t watched. (I just got a screener for soap operas and realized that part was the same and made note). Therefore, fandom, to corporate, are people who watch everything and maybe buy some swag for the show- magazines/shirts. Then, they asked about conventions I might have attended. And then asked about my dream vacation, so I babbled a lot about my dream to go to SDCC (I hadn’t at this point). Supernatural was on the list of shows, so I made sure I answered the essay questions about it, because why not? It was my favorite of what was listed. It was a long screener. I don’t remember the rest. Though sometimes I might remember a detail if a screener reminds me of it. Most fun screener I’ve filled out.

A few days/weeks later, I got a call for step 2- the phone screener for the people that sounded good when filling out the form. And where they try and make sure your answers match or fit that same person who answered them. I passed step 2, and was told there would be homework, and asked ifI’d have time for it, since I would only have so many days to watch the assigned material and write essays about them.

Homework arrives: I have to watch and write essays on all the bonus features of Supernatural S10. There might’ve been something in there from another year, too. And all the bonus features from some season of Big Bang Theory. Essays for all of it, too. And I mean essays, not short answers. It was like the SATs, and I was analyzing blooper reels (among other things). I still don’t get why they wanted essay questions on blooper reels, but I’ll always happily write one again cause that was the funniest essay to have to write!

I had to both print and bring and email all my answers ahead of time. I did not keep them. I’m honestly curious what I might’ve written.

So in December, I get to go to WB’s market research department. Fun fact: the entrance to that building faces what had recently been the Supernatural poster. I check in. At this point I think it’s a group. Because most market research is done in groups. Also they said I was there for the “DVD bonus features study”

I wait in the lobby, but I’m surprised there seem to be very few others around. I don’t think I got there too early, but all the others were taken back before me. And they didn’t seem to be there for the same study. Oh and I wore business casual clothes but had some show-based earrings for fun.

Finally a nice lady brings me back to a room. She turns off the lights and gives me a fancy remote and has me play with a new system for watching bonus features. I had to start with BBT. Then we did something else. Then I was allowed to scroll through and I picked Supernatural, and answered all the things. By this point I figured I would be released soonish because I was supposed to be there only for an hour. And this was at least half an hour at the most. No clock, though and cell phone off. Maybe this part went faster than I remember, but it was less interesting so it felt longer? Or less interesting compared to what came next.

We switch gears. I’m no longer allowed to pick what we watch and talk about my thoughts on if SDCC panels belong in bonus features. (Me: should have a preorder and you get to watch it when the season airs with DVD to arrive when season ends. Silly to watch it after the season when it’s mostly vague spoilers for the first episode or so). Obviously WB doesn’t listen to me about everything.

Oh! In the screener as part of normal demographics, I was asked about my sexuality. It isn’t completely rare (I can talk about another market research where you had to be queer to be part of it), but there were some short answers about representation or something similar. Something that is significant *now,* but at the time I didn’t notice as being too weird. Since they probably had me listed to the people behind the mirror as X (if they even got my name) Y resident, bisexual, age. I very specifically said stuff to her about representation cause I wasn’t gonna miss my shot.

Anyway so we switch from dvd extras and she queues up video from another file.

She puts a scene of Supernatural on and has me watch. Then repeats it. And asks questions about my opinions on what’s happening. Then has me watch and only pay attention to Character D and tell her what I think his emotions are. Then again but with Character C.

Complete torture… lol… at this point I’m confused, but enjoying this torture.

So there I am watching the Crypt scene over and over and analyzing it. And talking about their feelings.

And then I stop her and say something to the effect of “look I’m bi. There’s not a lot of good representation on what being bi is like. But from episode 1 I’ve known Dean is Bi.” And I babbled about how important a macho badass but closeted character is for representation. And that I hoped they did more with that. I included some anecdotes from other lgbtq friends and straight allies and how they all felt as I did- Dean is Bi, Cas is whatever he wants to identify as, and we felt we recognized our experiences on the screen and hoped for continued and louder representation.

Bam. My interviewer was called out of the room by the people behind the mirror. Suddenly I’m getting a whole new set of questions

Like this is the most baffling and amazing thing that's happened to me in years. It imprinted in my mind, and I haven’t mentioned it to too many people, because of the NDA and being afraid to jinx things. But now I don’t feel like it matters to be as quiet. Obviously I don’t want WB to go after me but... market research isn’t unusual, just mostly used for spin-offs or new shows not for plot points of shows already happening. At least, that’s my understanding.

The interviewer comes back after a short discussion with whoever was behind the glass. Asks a few more questions

We’re now very much going into various things about what I’d just said. I took my shot. And apparently it paid off big time. At some point she’s pulled out of the room again and given a paper with more questions. Some were about Dean’s bisexuality, or how I, and anecdotally my friends, saw him as bisexual. Others were about the potential romance. None, that I remember, were about Castiel’s sexuality- I guess that was a given or not important.

I don’t know if any of the writers were behind the glass from the beginning, but I felt like they stalled to get someone there, maybe.

The interviewer was baffled and made sure I knew nothing that was happening was normal. They wanted to ask me more questions than they usually care to get out of their market research volunteers.

So those are the most important parts. Basically almost everything I was asked after that was about character analysis and queerness and a whole bunch of other things that were related (I also mentioned needing more disability rep, too). I was back there for at least 2 hours.

#supernatural #spn #destiel #deancas #castiel #dean winchester #misha collins #jensen ackles

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edenmemes · 3 years

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horizon zero dawn starters

❝ you can sense it. you already know you’re going to lose. ❞ ❝ did you want to be alone? ❞ ❝ you wouldn’t be so eager to speak with me if you knew me. ❞ ❝ that will draw attention. we won’t have this place to ourselves for long now. ❞ ❝ it’s a world worth fighting for. not just here. everywhere. ❞ ❝ trying to live up to glorious pasts has a way of getting people killed. ❞ ❝ never celebrate a victory before it’s earned. ❞ ❝ i crave vengeance. do you? ❞ ❝ my comrades weren’t so lucky. i might shed a tear, if they weren’t all cutthroats and cheaters. ❞ ❝ i’ll always have a minute for you. maybe even two. ❞ ❝ you walk on the edge of life and death. i can tell. ❞ ❝ what is a gift but an award you did not earn? ❞ ❝ so many voices to listen to, it must make your head hurt. i promise my voice will be soft and soothing. ❞ ❝ i wish i could borrow some of your courage now. ❞ ❝ i’ve always wondered. are all your kind hunters and fighters, or just a few? ❞ ❝ no one doubts your determination. but you need to rest. ❞ ❝ a bold claim. i wonder if you’ll live up to it. ❞ ❝ why would someone name a knife? ❞ ❝ so you’re alive ! we should celebrate! drinks on me! ❞ ❝ try not to forget me, while you’re out there saving the world. ❞ ❝ when we spoke earlier, you winced, then looked like you were in pain - or frightened. ❞ ❝ i’m really not one for crowds. ❞ ❝ so - how are we gonna do that? oh, wait, i forgot. we won’t. i do all the dangerous stuff. ❞ ❝ i knew there was something about you. hammered from the stuff they make leaders out of. ❞ ❝ no matter what happens, i will not intervene. do you understand? you are on your own. ❞ ❝ it’s always a pain in the neck when you show up, girl, one way or another. ❞ ❝ you’re bleeding, let me have a look. here, hold still. ❞ ❝ just don’t think this means i enjoy it. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to jinx it, but we might be in the clear. ❞ ❝ when i start a fuss, i like to finish it. ❞ ❝ i promise to look solemn at your funeral before i hit the bar. ❞ ❝ what could go wrong? turns out, a lot. ❞ ❝ let me come with you! i won’t be a bother. i know how to stay out of sight. ❞ ❝ now i’m supposed to fill ____’s shoes. and instead, here i am, stumbling around in them. ❞ ❝ we need to talk - alone. and you need to pull it together. ❞ ❝ i guess growing up means putting what you should do in front of what you want to do, right? ❞ ❝ oh, are you going to shut your mouth now? because that would be a surprise. ❞ ❝ i will come to you in secret. no one will see me, so i won’t get in trouble. ❞ ❝ it looks like something chewed you up and spat you out. ❞ ❝ these are the true wilds, with threats unlike any you have ever faced. ❞ ❝ that moment the door opened and you were standing there, and the way you smiled... i had to look away or you were going to see. on my face. what had just... blossomed inside me, you know? ❞ ❝ i’m not afraid of you - i’m not afraid of anything. ❞ ❝ stop being evasive? you might as well tell me to stop being charming. it’s impossible. ❞ ❝ what a waste. at least he died better than he lived. ❞ ❝ i’ve been looking up at the stars a lot, and the only story i see written across them is that we are small and insignificant and will soon disappear with hardly a trace left behind. it’s a hard story, and i don’t like it much.. ❞ ❝ if i’m going to stand for something, it’ll have to be something i believe in. ❞ ❝ the strength to stand alone, is the strength to make a stand. ❞ ❝ soon it’ll all seem familiar. like home. ❞ ❝ now i see that i was just lucky to get a minute of your time. ❞ ❝ i know my duty to them - and to you. i’m here. and wherever you go...i will follow. ❞ ❝ you're really good at making it impossible to like you. ❞ ❝ i’ve missed our little talks. ❞ ❝ will change happen at all, while men live in palaces? ❞ ❝ confidence is quiet. you’re not. ❞ ❝ you’re not a very convincing liar. ❞ ❝ i already have all the friends i need. i don’t need the bother. ❞ ❝ all right, cool your fire. i got nothing to hide. ❞ ❝ i see you don’t recognize me. well, it was a long time ago. ❞ ❝ you will turn back - or bleed. your choice. ❞ ❝ when we met, i thought i was a big shot talking to a pretty girl hidden away in the middle of nowhere. ❞ ❝ you would speak ill of the dead? truly you have no shame. ❞ ❝ truth is, i get lonely once in awhile. there. i admitted it. don’t think less of me. ❞ ❝ do you have any idea how dangerous it is out there? ❞ ❝ but i don’t know anyone here. ❞ ❝ come on, stop. you’re going to make me tear up. ❞ ❝ i feel like i should drop to my knees and worship you. ❞ ❝ think i’m done? think again. i’ve gotten out of worse scrapes. ❞ ❝ it’s hard to imagine where we’d be without you - and i don’t want to try. ❞ ❝ if we’re to fight together on the brink of life and death, i’d prefer to do so with your forgiveness. ❞ ❝ trust is for fools. it shifts and crumbles like sand. ❞ ❝ what will you do while i risk my life? ❞ ❝ you can smile, can’t you? ...no, that’s a grimace. ❞ ❝ you killed that demon...pulled its guts from the carcass! ❞ ❝ the sooner you’re gone from here, the better. ❞ ❝ for now, all you need to know is that i’m a whisper of reason in this howling pit of insanity. ❞ ❝ i heard the rumors, but i didn’t know for sure until saw you just now. i’m glad to see you’re okay. ❞ ❝ no barrier can now stay you from your sacred task. ❞ ❝ i won’t deny i risked your life. but it was the only way. ❞ ❝ they can’t shoot if they’re dead. keep them busy, i’ll find an angle. ❞ ❝ comforts are weakness. ❞ ❝ as for honor, sacrifice-- true sacrifice, the kind rulers know nothing of -- it’s all a fat joke. ❞ ❝ i’ve been sharpening my blade, anticipating the scent of the fight. ❞ ❝ you’re not just a traveler. that armor was fitted for you. and the way you hold your bow... ❞ ❝ i’d expect to see some tomatoes fly, maybe rocks. hopefully not spears. in any case, be ready to duck. ❞ ❝ i’m not here for the price on your head. ❞ ❝ for a moment, i was a child again, rapt from stories told by hunters at the campfire. ❞ ❝ this...attachment to me will only hold you back. ❞ ❝ whatever you do, don’t let their shabby looks fool you! they’ll kill you as soon as look at you. ❞ ❝ i’m doing what i love. and what could be wrong with that? ❞ ❝ when the arrowhead passes between armor and skin - that’s the place i belong. ❞ ❝ right. why would i expect an answer? it’s so much more exciting to keep it all a mystery... ❞ ❝ oh, it’s a story all right, but it takes a while to tell. maybe another time, over a drink or three? ❞ ❝ why are you talking like we’ll never see each other again? ❞ ❝ i’ll wager you don’t scare easy - it’s a good quality. ❞ ❝ there will be people celebrating, and feasting. more than you've ever see in one place. ❞ ❝ i didn’t bring you here to answer questions. i brought you here to deal with that. ❞ ❝ ...you’ve...put a lot of thought into this. ❞ ❝ i do not want to hear this talk from you again. doubt is heavier than a week’s snow. ❞ ❝ bandits are drawn to here like infection to a wound. ❞ ❝ i guess you’re doing the right thing for the wrong reason. ❞ ❝ i thought you and i were agreed: only enjoy the killing as much as the challenge. ❞ ❝ rumors spread like blood. ❞ ❝ they would steal from us, chase us through the night, laughing. ❞ ❝ leave it too long, your fingers itch for the bowstring. ❞ ❝ you’re strong, shrewd, capable... i could use someone like you on my side. ❞ ❝ you defeated it? alone? ❞ ❝ grasp your grief. and kill it. ❞ ❝ at least i’ll have a fire to keep me company. ❞ ❝ only survivors scar. after everything you’ve been through, you keep going. ❞ ❝ just stop being evasive and tell me who you really are. ❞ ❝ i don’t mind putting my worthless ass on the line. but not yours. ❞ ❝ i’m not here to intrigue you. ❞ ❝ how about you? who do you think i am? what will you remember of me? ❞ ❝ everything freezing. the ground, the air... me. ❞ ❝ you lost someone you care about. that leaves a wound. the sort of wound a lot of people don’t recover from. ❞ ❝ the only thing i know i’m still fighting for is...you. ❞ ❝ i didn’t earn this mercy, but i will die to make myself worthy of it. ❞ ❝ to say you have my gratitude feels woefully insufficient. you saved my life. ❞ ❝ makes you wish you could kill them more than once, doesn’t it? ❞ ❝ why did you act so strange when we spoke earlier? ❞ ❝ being smart won’t count for nothing if you don’t make the world a better place. ❞ ❝ to serve a purpose greater than yourself...that is the lesson you must learn. ❞ ❝ if a big, meaningful talk is what you’re after, move along. ❞ ❝ that carcass! what sort of beast was that? ❞ ❝ what are you doing out here all alone? where are your men? ❞ ❝ you’ve obviously heard of me. you know what i’m capable of. why do you think this will turn out well for you? ❞ ❝ there’s so much to discover before the world ends. ❞ ❝ i couldn’t wait to see you again. it’s like...i’m dead and only come alive when i’m here with you. ❞ ❝ some even say you have a conscience. how extraordinary! ❞ ❝ do you always accuse people you’ve just met of lying? ❞ ❝ if you ever visit, look me up. i’ll show you around, make introductions. it’d be a whole new life, if you want it. ❞ ❝ it had a name once, not that it matters now. i was born there. ❞ ❝ i always knew you were different... i think you’re a blessing. ❞ ❝ no one hears your prayers anyway. ❞ ❝ this place is difficult even for the prepared. ❞ ❝ i underestimated you. i won’t make that same mistake again. ❞ ❝ oh. is that supposed to sound scary or something? ❞ ❝ look, maybe i shouldn’t say this, but it’s obvious that you don’t belong in this... backwater. ❞ ❝ were you kept hidden away? did you have overprotective parents or something? ❞ ❝ hmph. don’t go soft on me. ❞ ❝ i prefer the company of spirits. or my own. ❞ ❝ blood spilled calls for blood spilled! if the ground is cursed, then let our vengeance sanctify it. ❞ ❝ so many people here, all talking at once. how does anyone think? ❞ ❝ why is it that every time something bad happens to you, someone else tells you something bad that happened to them, as if that makes it any better? ❞ ❝ i’ve never seen armor like yours. ❞ ❝ the wrongness here jags at me like an arrowhead. ❞ ❝ when you found me, i was trying to eke out a glorious death. but now a glorious life seems more preferable. ❞ ❝ tomorrow, may the sun rise on the world. ❞ ❝ you saved my epitaph from being ‘a fine soldier but a fool of a man’. ❞ ❝ i don’t think i know you at all. but i’d like to. ❞ ❝ i don’t like this. it feels...wrong. ❞ ❝ oh, i’m grateful for this wound. it’s a lesson i won’t forget. ❞ ❝ you’re a clever one. but not so clever as to heed my warning, i see. ❞ ❝ not everyone follows the law like you do. ❞ ❝ how many times have i pulled you from danger by your neck? made excuses for your behavior? ❞ ❝ for what it’s worth, i’m glad you’re coming with me. ❞ ❝ what have i ever given you but struggle? ❞ ❝ it’s starting to feel real, you know? that we might actually get out of this place. ❞ ❝ i’ve never been part of anything. i serve my own interests. always. ❞ ❝ i apologize for my...behavior. i thought i was dead. ❞ ❝ look, i don’t even know your story. must be a good one. if you ever feel like telling it, look me up. ❞ ❝ when my anger has thawed, i will feel nothing. ❞ ❝ i can’t remember when i had this much fun! i should be thanking you! ❞ ❝ you gave him a quicker death than he deserved. ❞ ❝ that...could be the last creepy thing you’ve said to me. ❞ ❝ something’s really bothering you. if you think i’m gonna abandon you, you’re wrong. ❞ ❝ surprised you saw me, the way you keep looking every other direction to make sure no one’s watching. careful there, or you’ll sprain your neck. ❞ ❝ remember how the blood pounded in your ears? they’ll ring later, in the calm. it’s a call to arms, from your inner desires. ❞ ❝ ___’s dead. i was ready to go through anything to make that happen. and i did. ❞ ❝ is there a reason why you’re acting so cranky today? ❞ ❝ you hold your grief close, like a tailsman. ❞ ❝ i hope you can find peace. ❞ ❝ you don’t know who i am, do you? ❞ ❝ you know there’s always been dirt on my hands. now there’s blood too. ❞ ❝ i want to be strong like you. but... ❞ ❝ i hadn’t given up on hope, but i’ve forgotten the taste of it. ❞ ❝ just...don’t start singing again. ❞ ❝ you’re sparing me? after all i’ve done? ❞ ❝ i don’t intend to die today. ❞ ❝ it will take many good deeds to make up for the crimes you’ve committed. ❞ ❝ but why should you have justice, and not me? ❞ ❝ such a voice... a cold, awful jangle that scrapes your bones and hollows your guts. ❞ ❝ one more word, and i’ll throw you in jail myself. ❞ ❝ only in the struggle against death do we find, even for a moment, the spark of life. ❞ ❝ the war changed you. changed us both. we’re not kids anymore. ❞ ❝ i can’t sleep, i can’t breathe knowing you could be out there...hurting... ❞ ❝ now i’m left to wear my sins. for me, at least, they hang heavy. ❞ ❝ but what does a girl like you know of loss? ❞ ❝ it’s a good thing you’ve got brains. because your personality could use some work. ❞ ❝ i was going to ask you to leave with me...to go somewhere out in the sun where no shadow could reach us. ❞ ❝ they didn’t need to disgrace my name. i did it myself, serving a rotten throne. ❞ ❝ you don’t approve? well, i have a secret for you. neither do i. ❞ ❝ perhaps you are not an evil man. just a weak one. ❞ ❝ losses can feel... overwhelming. but they remind us of our connections to others. ❞ ❝ i don’t exactly see anyone beating down the door to spend time with you. ❞ ❝ if i had known, i would never have spoken to you. ❞ ❝ forge a new life. one of better make. ❞ ❝ impossible odds, fine company, killing without consequence --- how could i resist? ❞ ❝ look at me. i can’t imagine how you’re feeling, but you don’t have to go through it alone. ❞ ❝ i wish i had known, all this time, what you were going through. ❞ ❝ i’m with you. until the end. ❞ ❝ i thought you just wanted to have tea and conversation! is there a battle coming? i wasn’t informed! ❞ ❝ we’ve only met a few times, and yet you know me so well. ❞ ❝ are you going to drive me off, too? it’s okay. i’ve dealt with worse. ❞ ❝ now i know the kind of person i want to be, watching you. ❞ ❝ it’s so...bittersweet. like a smile through bloodied teeth. ❞ ❝ i swear i saw my ancestors... they said: ‘we’re not surprised to see you here’. ❞ ❝ more mercenaries? what kind of person sells their loyalty? ❞ ❝ keep moving or you’ll die! ❞ ❝ this is the kind of place you’d take someone if you want to lose them forever. ❞ ❝ if that’s destiny, i wouldn’t wish it on anyone. ❞ ❝ i’ve thought about what you said. every time, the wound you gave me caught on my ribs. ❞ ❝ i’ve never seen such disregard for personal safety. ❞ ❝ the most important thing is what you’re not like - your father. ❞ ❝ i’m never lonely where there’s killing to be done. ❞ ❝ my past - and my secrets - are my own. you’ll do well to remember that. ❞ ❝ only to you do i extend the courtesy of a warning. ❞ ❝ if the war’s not over, i’m not done. ❞ ❝ a long kiss, the best kind... i can still remember the feel of your hand on the back of my neck. ❞ ❝ it would be a worse fate to bow our heads to the challenge and say, ‘too much’. ❞ ❝ let’s not say farewell. i’ve had enough of that to last me a dozen winters. ❞ ❝ have your wounds even had time to heal? ❞ ❝ you can stop worrying. the secret’s safe with me. ❞ ❝ just to be clear, i have no plans to murder you, alright? ❞ ❝ you’re an idiot. a dangerous idiot, but an idiot. ❞ ❝ i’m kicking myself for not seeing your potential from the beginning. ❞ ❝ for your sake, you must go where you will never find me. this is goodbye. ❞ ❝ so that’s what this is? a tantrum? a cry for attention? ❞ ❝ change won’t come in a single sunrise. ❞ ❝ this place may not seem like much, but we’ll make the best of it. ❞ ❝ no murderers here, if that’s what you’re asking. ❞

#rp meme #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #i'm playing through this game again !!!! & this time im rlly taking it all in

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

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hello i have fallen i love with your charlie fic (❤❤!!) and i want to ask if you could you write some angst where barnaby has a crush on mc and they're super oblivious and later they start dating someone else ans barnaby realizes he lost them?

My dearest anon, let me say: I AM SORRY. Writing your ask took me forever (literally, lol) even though I had it in my head the moment I got your asks all those months ago. But I never felt the right inspiration to actually write it down until today. Today it just hit me. I do hope you're actually still around and reading what I made out of it.

I'm really truly sorry. 😅

So, without further ado, I present to you:

Missed Chances

Barnaby Lee x Reader

Barnaby Lee wasn’t the smartest kid around.

He was by no means dumb, he just wasn’t as clever or booksmart as most of his peers, a fact he was well aware of. But it didn’t bother him that much, really. He had found his means of getting by during classes and ever since distancing himself from Merula Snyde back in their third year, he had been able to gather a circle of friends around him he could fall back upon.

There was popular Penny Haywood for Potions, shy but gifted Ben Copper for Charms, and ever so patient Rowan Khanna when he had troubles with Transfiguration.

Barnaby’s favourite study sessions, however, were those for Defense Against The Dark Arts. Not because he was particularly bad at the subject; on the contrary, he was a skilled duelist and most charms and jinxes came naturally to him. No, the real reason those lessons were his favourite was because it was you who was teaching him.

Ever since he’d been drawn into your close circle of friends, his above average DADA marks had been plummeting, since he kept getting distracted during class. The professors weren’t impressed but neither surprised at his apparent lack of academic skills and under normal circumstances, Barnaby would have tried everything in his power to prove them wrong, that he could do better, that he wasn’t as stupid as everyone made him out to be.

But when you offered your help in catching up on the subject, Barnaby had changed his mind. You were always top of your DADA class and what better way to spend some time alone with you while listening to your beautiful voice explaining the differences between a curse and a hex.

Barnaby knew most of the things you were telling him already, so he had ample time to just watch you talk during your study sessions. He knew no one else could get so excited over dark creatures and cursed objects like you did. The way your eyes were sparkling when lecturing him on the differences between a werewolf and regular wolf had him enthralled every single time and the proud smile you gave him when he answered one of your questions correctly never failed to make Barnaby’s heart beat hard in his chest.

He would have loved to see that smile more often, but he made sure to let his real knowledge of the subject shine through sparingly. He was afraid that if he got too good, you might want to drop studying with him and that was something he couldn’t risk; spending time with you had become the highlight of his day. No one he knew rivalled the warmth you radiated and the unbroken faith you had in him, a sentiment that was completely new to Barnaby.

When the big news of the Celestial Ball was announced, it was all his peers could talk about. What to wear, how to look and who to bring were the questions dominating all of the four common rooms.

Barnaby never had to think twice who he wanted to be his date for the dance. He thought about how to properly ask you out for days on end; you were no common girl after all. You were the most extraordinary girl he knew and thus deserved an extraordinary invitation. But when he finally plucked up the courage to ask you out, you looked at him sheepishly.

“That’s so sweet of you, Barney. I’m so flattered, really. But I already promised Rowan and Ben to go with them. You know, just as friends.”

His heart sank at the words. Why hadn’t he acted sooner? Maybe people were right about him being stupid after all.

Seeing his disheartened look, your face changed into something softer. “But I’m sure Rowan and Ben wouldn’t mind if you came along with us? As another friend?”

Barnaby beamed at her. “I’d love that. We’re going to have such a great time together, as friends,” he added, not quite sure whom he wanted to reassure, you or himself.

He would probably never forget the night of the Celestial Ball when he saw you in the dress André Egwu had designed for the first time. Rowan and Ben had arrived at the ball before you and when you stepped into the Great Hall all on your own, Barnaby’s breath stopped for a moment.

You were dressed in a beautiful, burgundy dress with intricate patterns embroidered around the neckline. Your waist was accentuated by a small belt and the skirt of your dress flowed around you in several layers of fabric. You looked like an ethereal being to him as you walked through the crowd over to him, Rowan and Ben, your skirt trailing slightly behind you.

His eyes didn’t leave you for the whole evening even for a second. He could hear you laughing when you danced with Rowan and Ben, the sound like silver bells to his ears. When he asked you for a dance with him, your hand just happened to fit perfectly into his and your bright smile made Barnaby forget everything else around you and him. He did take great care to not step on your dress, however. You looked so perfect, he didn’t want to ruin it with his own clumsiness; although he pretty much doubted anything could have taken away from your beauty.

When the Celestial Ball was over, Barnaby took the chance to walk you back to your common room. You had your arm linked with his and marched in step with him. As he was taller than you, it required some effort on your part, the strange walking rhythm making you giggle. The sound had Barnaby’s heart beat faster.

Barnaby was almost reluctant to let you go when you had reached the concealed entrance to your common room. He wasn’t quite sure what to do; all he wanted to do was put his arms around you, drawing you as close to him as possible and never letting go again. But he hesitated; what if you didn’t feel the same?

To gain some time, he cleared his throat. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Me too,” you smiled at him. “I’m glad you came along. You just have the most fun with your friends, right?”

The word ‘friends’ put a damper on the butterflies that had been swarming in Barnaby’s stomach until this point.

“Yes, friends,” he echoed, “because we’re friends.”

A look of confusion crossed your face for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“Of course I am,” Barnaby lied quickly, glad that the flickering light of the torches hid the blush spreading on his cheeks. “Just exhausted from dancing, I guess.”

“Oh, alright. I’d better get to my common room then. Good night.”

There was a short, awkward pause, before you smiled at him, waved and vanished into your common room. Barnaby sighed; at least for night, he had definitely botched his chances.

Ever since the Celestial Ball and the anticlimax of its ending, Barnaby had made it his mission to convince you there was more to him than being your friend. He’d ventured into the library on his own and gathered together all books on romance he could find and read every single one of them. Most of them, especially the older ones, had given him quite some headaches, but he knew you enjoyed reading old love stories, so maybe they had some useful information to offer. How someone could spend their free time reading things like Jane Austen for fun, however, remained a mystery to him.

And apparently, the tips he had sourced weren’t that helpful either. Barnaby tried it all, he complimented you, he brought you flowers and small gifts that reminded him of you and tried connecting with you over things he knew you loved. Whenever he saw the chance to ask you out he tried. But as soon as he had gathered his courage, you had already promised one of your numerous friends to go with them instead. It was exasperating, really.

All the while, the study sessions with you continued. Barnaby had stopped pretending to be as oblivious as he made himself out to be in the beginning; he knew it was risky, in case you might want to drop studying with him if he got better, but he was too addicted to your smile at this point. No matter how hard his day had been, a smile from you and everything else was forgotten.

Barnaby wished you would finally notice just how much he adored you, but as long as he could spend time with you, listen to your voice and hear your laughter, everything was fine with him.

Until it was not.

He had noticed you were distracted lately and not as talkative as he was used to. Today’s Potions class was no exception. Professor Snape, who was even moodier than usual, was lecturing the class on the importance of knowing potion recipes by heart.

“You will not always carry a textbook with you,” he droned, “and while I wouldn’t trust half of you to brew a potion even with proper instructions, maybe some of you will be able to produce something remotely resembling a proper concoction by sheer luck. If I see one piece of parchment on the table, you will clean your classmates’ cauldrons after class. Begin.”

Dreading the next two hours of guessing which ingredients to use in what order, Barnaby glanced over to you. But you hadn’t been listening to the instructions, it seemed. Your attention was focused on a piece of parchment in front of you, hastily scribbled lines running across it. Barnaby tried catching a glimpse but when you noticed, you blushed deeply and quickly covered the parchment with your hand.

Barnaby, however, wasn’t the only one who had noticed the piece of parchment. Before you could do anything, Professor Snape had appeared next to you and snatched the parchment out of your grip.

“I thought I said no notes allowed, or didn’t I express myself clearly enough for your convenience?” he snarled.

“No, Professor, you misunderstand,” you gasped, “these aren’t Potions notes, it’s private. Can I please have it back?”

You reached for it, but Snape jerked his hand up so it was just out of reach. “That gives it even less reason to be present in my classroom,” he said coldly, a cruel smile stealing onto his face. “Let us share with the rest of the class what is distracting you from my lesson.”

Your cheeks were glowing bright red as Snape started reading the content of your note.

“Do you like me? Yes or No. Circle your answer,” he read out loud. “How droll,” he sneered over the chuckle of your classmates, “I suggest, next time you concentrate more on your potion and less on your silly personal bearings. Perhaps the result will be more decent then. 10 points from you and detention tonight.”

As he swept past your table, Barnaby noticed your hanging head. You had your hands clasped tightly together in your lap and seemed so small all of a sudden that he felt furious. Even though Snape was his head of house, he had no right whatsoever to embarrass you in front of everyone like that.

“Are you okay?” he asked you gently.

Not looking at him, you shook his head. “Why did he have to do that?” you whispered. “He could see I wasn’t taking notes. There was no need to read it out loud.”

“There wasn’t,” Barnaby agreed. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out and lightly placing his hand on your arm. “He’s just a big, old, mean bat. Everyone says so.”

You sniffed, a small smile already spreading on your face again. “That’s true. Thank you.” You covered his hand with yours and squeezed it lightly. The touch sent jolts of energy through Barnaby from where your hands connected. His skin was still tingling when you turned towards your cauldron again, breaking the contact.

“Who was your note for, anyway?” Barnaby asked, trying not to sound as if this wasn’t the question burning red hot on his mind.

You looked at him wide-eyed. “I can’t possibly tell you.”

“Why not? Do I know him?”

Blushing again, you could only nod before dropping your gaze.

“It’s someone I’ve been friends with for a while now, but I don’t know if he feels the same. I don’t want to ruin our friendship by making a stupid move.”

Barnaby held his breath. You couldn’t possibly be talking about him, could you?

“How could it ruin your friendship?” he asked. “If he’s your friend, he’s your friend and nothing can change that.”

He took a deep breath. “Maybe you should just tell him,” he said deliberately casually, “who knows, maybe that friend of yours has been feeling the same for some time now, too.”

You looked up at him in surprise. “You think so?”

Barnaby nodded in agreement. “Definitely. Just try your luck, maybe you’ll be surprised.”

After the class was over and you had parted ways for the rest of the day, Barnaby counted the minutes until the evening when you had agreed to meet for another study session before your detention. He was positively bouncing with energy ever since lunchtime. You had come over to him with a nervous smile on your lips to ask him to meet up with you later.

“Chances are, I’ll need to tell you something,” you had said with a shaky laugh before joining your other friends for lunch. Barnaby had swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to look unfazed, but his insides had been burning with impatience ever since.

That was why he had arrived earlier than usual at the library that evening. He picked all the books out you would be needing and stacked and restacked them several times at the table you were usually working on.

It felt like an eternity until you finally entered the library, each second dragging into an eternity of its own. Barnaby saw you first. You stood in the entrance to the grand room and all of a sudden the library seemed to be a little brighter just by you being there. You scanned the rows of bookshelves with your eyes and a wide smile appeared on your face as they fell on him, waiting for you between books and quills in your favourite spot.

You quickly bounded over to him, a spring in your step that was a stark contrast to the miserable mood you had been in this morning. Before Barnaby even had a chance to ask what made you so happy, you had flung your arms around his neck in a tight embrace.

On instinct, Barnaby put his arms around your waist and held you for a sweet moment that he wished would last forever. He could smell the flowery scent of your perfume and breathed it in deeply, trying to commit every last detail of how you felt in his arms to memory. He was sure you had to feel his heartbeat; how could you not with how hard it was hammering against his ribcage?

“He said yes, Barney! He really said yes!” you squealed, not caring one bit about Madam Pince’s indignant shush.

The sheer happiness coursing through his veins turned into ice that froze him from the inside in a matter of seconds. Confused, he loosened his hold on you and pushed you far enough away from him to look you in the face. The joy visible on it almost broke his heart.

“What?”

“My crush!” you beamed at him. “I followed your advice and asked him out, just now! And he said yes!” you repeated, hugging him again.

“You’re the first person I wanted to tell,” you said. Barnaby could feel your breath on the skin exposed by the open collar of his shirt. He hated himself for the shiver running down his spine.

“Why?” was all he managed to whisper in response.

“Because without you, I’d never have the courage to talk to him upfront. It’s all thanks to you that I have a date now. You’re really the best friend I could ask for.”

Every word you spoke was like a dagger pushed up to the hilt into his broken heart, every second he saw you smile at the prospect of going out with the boy you wanted to be with - the boy that wasn’t him - a twist of the blade until he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. His heart, that had beaten so wildly just moments before when he had held you in his arms, could have stopped beating right there and then; Barnaby doubted it would have felt much different to the consuming emptiness he felt at this very moment.

You were rambling on and on about where you wanted to take your date and what you would wear but Barnaby wasn’t listening. He didn’t even know who you were talking about; all he knew was that it wasn’t him and that thought was louder in his head than your words could ever be.

“What do you think of that?”

Barnaby realised you had come to the end of your explanations and expected an opinion from him. He forced himself to smile apologetically at you, when all he wanted to do was scream.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he croaked out.

Your brow creased. “Are you okay? You’re so pale all of a sudden.”

“I’m good,” Barnaby answered with a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat and started again. “I’m good, I just caught a cold, I think. I should go see Madam Pomfrey later.”

You made a sceptical sound and raised one eyebrow. “If you say so. So what do you think? Is Madam Puddyfoot’s Tea Shop a good idea or not?”

Barnaby had never heard of this tea shop before, but he’d go to Knockturn Alley for a date if it only was with you. “It doesn’t matter where you take him. He’s lucky he gets to go with someone like you in the first place.”

“That’s sweet of you to say.”

“I’m just happy you’re happy,” Barnaby said and even meant it, in a way. He just wished the source of your happiness was him and not somebody else.

You hugged him once again and he was glad that you couldn’t see the pained expression crossing his features for a moment. “You’re the best, Barney. I’m so glad to have you in my life.”

You let go and turned towards the table laden with books Barnaby had so carefully set up. “Shall we?”

He sat down with you and watched as you started taking out your notes on objects cursed with minor jinxes. Your eyes were sparkling even more than usual and even now, you were so beautiful to Barnaby it hurt.

With a sigh, he concentrated on what you had to say for a change. His time spent daydreaming about you was over for good now, so he might as well do what the two of you were here for and study.

No, Barnaby Lee wasn’t the smartest kid around.

But even he knew that when it came to you, he had missed too many chances.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #barnaby lee #anon ask #fun fact #this is exactly what happened in game for my mc lizzie #went to the celestial ball with barnaby #and ditched him afterwards #whoops #and for talbott of all people #because yknow #that old let us date the quidditch kids discussion #but we're not getting into that now

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Begone

Streamer Gang & Asexual Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Acephobia, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently come out as asexual, Y/N faces some less than pleasant or appropriate responses in their chat during their stream with the gang. Luckily, they’re not alone in battling the haters this time.

Requested by the lovely Anon who told acephobes to begone, yeah you know who you are hehe. Thank you so much for the request darling! Let’s show these acehobes who they’re messing with! Love, Vy ❤

Boy is this nerve-wrecking or what? Sure, I maybe woke up with a ton of confidence, I listened to motivational and uplifting talks and listened to mood boosting music. I had a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Damn it, I went on a run, all in an attempt to convince myself that dealing with the online world again is but a piece of cake for a badass like me. Well, low and behold, that feeling didn’t last very long. Here I am, chewing my nails off at the though of hopping in the Discord call and Among Us lobby with my friends and starting my stream. It’s not like I’m not expecting my friends and fans to support me - of course I am! I know they’re gonna give me a ton of love and appreciation and support and uplift me no matter what. But then again, there’s still those people who believe me and other people like me to be invalid and broken and whatnot.

Those are the ones I wanna avoid.

It’s not like their words mean much to me but I simply don’t wanna see em, you know? It’s not only about me - it’s least about me actually - it’s more about all those wonderful people they are insulting when they say shit like that about asexuals and all the people on the ace spectrum. I can’t help but flare up and get angry on the behalf of all my ace friends and even people I’ve never met.

It’s also my first time being directly thrown into the fire instead of getting caught in the crossfire seeing as how I came out to my fandom via a tweet and an Instagram post a week ago, telling my identity’s truth: finally bringing my asexuality to the surface to shine its brightest so I can be be my best and reach for my full potential.

But damn am I afraid to see how everyone took it.

My friends were quick to jump in and take me offline before I start refreshing my own posts to see the comments under them. Lord knows that without them I would’ve driven myself insane, I’ll forever be grateful for what they did and the lengths they went to to keep me offline and whatnot. One word to give you an idea of how invested they were in this: origami. All of us might as well have been born with two left hands and yet we still tried doing origami. Freaking origami.

Damn do I love my friends.

But now I don’t have sheets of paper and my friends to distract me. I have a fanbase to entertain and another friend group I haven’t talked to in a while. I don’t wanna get any predictions in already so I don’t jinx myself, so I’m just gonna say it’s gonna be...interesting regardless of what happens.

Then again, when is it not interesting when the streamer gang’s involved.

Deep breaths, Y/N. You got this

Listening to that encouraging little voice inside my head, I finally equip my headphones and in one fluid motion turn my camera on, officially starting my stream and unmuting my mic as I hop in the call with everyone.

“Hi guys! Guess who’s returned!“ I exclaim cheerfully, desperate to hide the nervousness of my voice.

“You really missed your opportunity to say ‘guess who’s back...back again’ didn’t you?“ Charlie is the one who greets me first, sounding rather disappointed in me in his usual jokester manner. It’s nice to hear, it makes me feel like nothing’s changed in the week I’ve been gone. Like I’m still the same person to these people. I really am the same, I just now am a lot better version of myself. Almost as though I’ve reached my final form. It feels empowering really. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Charlie laughs again, “Congrats, by the way. You keep proving you can get cooler and cooler.“

“Careful there Charlie, I can only handle so large of an ego.“ I joke back, rolling my eyes playfully as a wide grin spreads across my face, “No, but seriously, thank you so much, man. It means the world to me that you support me.“

“Um, how could we NOT?“ That’s very clearly Rae, “Hun, you are so brave and amazing and wonderful, how could we ever NOT support you?“

“Yeah, we’ll always support you no matter what, Y/N. We’ll always be your friends, through thick, thin and beyond.“ Poki too interferes, her words only making my smile wider.

“Alright, alright, y’all are gonna make me cry and I haven’t even read my chat yet, hold on.“ I say, fanning my face to dry the tears I hope the webcam isn’t spotting, “Darn, you guys are the best. Sorry, give me a sec to gather my composure, I’ll be right back.“

I quickly mute my in-game mic as I turn to my chat where I see the same amount of love and support in the form of comments and emojis flooding in from my viewers. A warm feeling spreads throughout my chest, making me feel the most comfortable with myself I’ve ever felt. The most loved I’ve ever felt. The most seen and understood. To finally be you feels like you are finally really living in this world, not like you’ve been already living in it for God knows how long. It makes me so freaking happy and fulfilled to finally be living as me, as the real me.

Unfortunately, in life, nothing can be 100% pure and good. There’s always at least 1% there threatening to ruin all your happiness you worked so hard to build or obtain. It may be one in a hundred, but fuck it’s powerful and effective.

And in my case it comes in the form of two comments that stick out to my eyes. Acephobic comments saying my identity’s fake, claiming I’m faking it, saying us acephobes are immature creatures who refuse to grow up, or attention whores. Or just saying we’re delusional and in denial, confused about who we are.

I hadn’t even realized I was clenching my jaw and fists but when I do, I slowly relax my muscles and crack my knuckles before addressing the two people who spat out that nonsense.

“Ok, listen here, shooterpro69 and yourmom_lol. For starters, I want to apologize for your ignorance and lack of education on the matter of asexuality. In fact, for you especially, I plan on making an educational video, explaining asexuality to people who need or want to learn more. You, my friends, are in desperate need to be fed some knowledge cause damn, God knows how many people secretly think you’re hella stupid. Not that they’re wrong to think so but anyway. Unless you have anything nice or positive to say, begone from my chat. Actually, when I think about it, begone from every chat. No one needs you polluting their communities with acephobia and hate.“ I say, all spoken in a calm tone despite the boiling anger within me. People who know me well would probably be able to tell I’m fuming underneath the calm façade, but at least I got my message across loud and clear.

“WOO HOO, You tell em Y/N!“ Toast cheers, clapping his hands and whistling as more cheering arises from each my friends, leaving me in a state of mild shock and confusion.

Wait, what?!

“Um, wait, you guys heard that?“ I ask, my eyes darting to thein-game mic symbol that shows an not crossed-off mic, meaning it was enabled during the entirety of my speech.

“Hell yeah we did! You slayed them, Y/N! Damn goddamn!“ Rae whistles too, her enthusiasm wafting over me like a breath of fresh air.

“I second that!“ Corpse joins in, “And remember what we said - we’ll support you through anything. Need to bury an acephobe’s body, we’re the people you should call.” He says, confident as heck.

And I just can’t hold it in anymore - I burst out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.

If I thought I was happy and fulfilled before, this has to be the closest to paradise I’m gonna get on Earth. All thanks to these wonderful people. Friends are really something else aren’t they: they come into your life - often unexpectedly - and change it completely. Suddenly you’re not alone, you’re not forced to deal with everything and face everything on your own. Someone’s got your back and you’ve got theirs.

Through thick, thin and beyond.

And it’s so fucking amazing.

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 152

I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it...

Okay, maybe I am. I managed to queue up the chapters I had in the barrel! Yay!! Which also means that I have a super duper exciting chapter coming up, which I can’t wait to write and can’t wait for y’all to read. I just need it to be perfect.

That said, thank you to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog for your help with this particular chapter. I love when we are all three in one of these sessions and just descending into chaos in the chat. Also, @mamayoda (who I can’t tag but I do want you to know I see your likes in my notes!) for love-bombing my notes recently.

“Is it just me or is everyone really jumpy?” Charly asked as I set my food down across from her. It was our thrice-weekly lunch dates in one of the public mess halls, and she definitely had a point. I had already noticed three people scowl distrustfully at the food consoles, hugging closely to the prepared food side of the room instead.

I sighed. “It has to have been Derek’s stress test. It wasn’t supposed to impact systems we didn’t design, but…”

She snorted loudly. “Tell that to the week I spent taking cold showers again. At least this time, the doors didn’t play any music when I walked through them.”

“Did your doors at least open consistently? I was stuck in my quarters for a whole day until we figured out that I could walk through if I had an escort.” I laughed and shook my head before digging in to my food. “And, come to find out, we actually do manage the water systems, thanks to BioLab 2.”

Contrary to myself, Charly was entirely unperturbed at this revelation beyond sniffing her hoodie and shrugging. “My doors worked fine as far as I know, but Coffey and I tend to work the same hours, so… Maybe that was it. Oo!” Her cheer of enthusiasm caught me off guard as she started bouncing in her seat. “OOOOO! I bet he activated the routine Xiomara had running when you and Jokul weren’t friends yet!”

“There was a routine!?” I asked, exasperated. “I behaved, thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Meh. Just in case. What do you think her deal is?” She tilted her head to the side, at a table near us.

Sure enough, the woman at that table was darting glances around the room, her shoulders hunched, elbows close to her body, eyes wide. I could practically feel her shaking from where I was. “I can’t tell if she looks suspicious or afraid,” I murmured, hoping the woman couldn’t hear me. “But the fact that I’ve met mice and chihuahuas who shook less, I’m going to go with afraid.”

As I watched the woman, weighing whether or not a stranger trying to comfort her would make it better or worse, Mona’s familiar face approached her instead. She was speaking softly enough that I couldn’t make out words, but the woman clearly recognized her and only jumped slightly.

I was so focused on the sight of Mona comforting the woman that I nearly hit the ceiling when Parvati’s voice came from entirely too close to my right shoulder. “Rebecca. She lost her family twice, first her parents, some cousins, and an uncle when the hack happened, and then her partner and children in the After. It’s understandable that she’s terrified right now, after the stress test. Too many bad memories.”

My face flushed in humiliation. “Pranav and Zach sent a ship-wide alert that the stress test was happening - “

A perfectly manicured hand clapped over my mouth, one dark eyebrow arched in eloquent disbelief. “Sophia. You of all people know that mental scars do not heed logic.”

Charly’s hair flew around her face as she nodded enthusiastically. “After day three of cold showers, I flinched every time I went through a door in case that stupid song started playing again, no matter how many times I reminded myself that it was a stress test and I had decidedly not given Derek boba tea again.”

Both my hands flew up in surrender. “I stand corrected, I just feel awful to see people react like that.” Gazing around the room, I was suddenly much more aware of all the darting eyes, protective postures, seats turned so that backs were against walls.

Charly had obviously seen the same thing. “We may need to talk to Pranav about limiting the tests to one or two systems at a time.”

“I wish we could,” I admitted, stabbing a potato out of my pie slightly harder than necessary. “His department was passing the tests with flying colors when Derek was limited to one or two systems at a time. But they failed this last test miserably, it turns out. As soon as they would react to one thing, Derek would switch to another system, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once as well as they convinced themselves that they could. And they can’t just be good at small scale attacks: the revolt that happened before the End brought everything down at once, from multiple access points. It was… kind of elegant, in a terrible way. Very clean.”

Charly squinted at me and Parvati in suspicion. “Are you supposed to know that they crashed and burned in the test.”

I rocked my hand back and forth while I chewed on a mouthful of crust. It had way too much butter in it, but at least it was actually crust this time. A week ago it had been something pretty close to paper mache. “Technically we don’t officially know that. Officially, all we know is that Pranav has requisitioned enough additional staff to increase his team of programmers by seventy percent.”

“Asses handed to them, got it,” Charly nodded in understanding.

“We also officially know that Pranav currently owes Hannah quite the enormous favor,” Parvati confided.

“How big?” Charly ventured slowly.

“Big enough that his grandchildren may be indebted to hers,” came the laughing response.

Charly shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He should know better than to bet against Derek. He breaks the systems for fun, and they asked him to really go for it. What did they expect?”

“Apparently to put up a better fight at least.” I forced a smile, but guilt weighed on my heart as I studied the room again, fully seeing the microexpressions of anxiety, fear, and anger. It felt like the entire Ark was constantly swinging between hope and fear. The random drills weren’t really helping, either.

“They aren’t,” Parvati agreed, letting me know that I had been thinking out loud. “Everyone is sleep deprived, on high alert, and then all of a sudden all the computer systems went on the fritz for a week.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, pushing what was left of my pot pie away from me, appetite gone. “We need to talk to Grey and Antoine about getting counselling for everyone, seeing as how Xiomara and Pranav pretty much just triggered the entire ship. I mean, everyone knows counselling is available, but I think allocating training and resources to the therapy teams is going to take priority over Pranav’s request for the moment.”

Charly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do we have the space for some quiet rooms, like you set up for the Food Festival a few years back? That may be a good idea.”

Snapping into work-mode, Parvati flicked her datapad open, bangles clattering as she started making notes. “The quarters left by those who relocated closer to the Archives are still uninhabited, those can be used. We may be able to convince some people to relocate so we can spread the rooms out more evenly, but even if we can’t, just having those rooms available will help.”

“Make a note to add in the proposal for Grey: possibility of having specific vendors permitted to serve food in BioLab 2. Encourage mental health days and picnics.”

Parvati nodded in acknowledgement of my request, before adding her own spin. “As a contingency plan, find vendors who will pre-package picnics. Between the current distrust of the consoles and the fact it will remind everyone of the annual Festival, the good emotions will help.”

“I like it,” I confirmed. “What else?”

“Paintball tag day in the corridors,” Charly announced, without preamble or warning. “Make it a holiday, everyone is off work, limit it to one end of the Ark.”

I shook my head. “Guns, not the best idea.”

“Ew, no. No pew-pew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking more paint-soaked splash bombs.”

Finger guns deployed, dual wielding. “I am so here for a paintball tag day in that case. The flavored paint?”

“Not the scotch bonnet please,” Parvati begged. “I just know someone will get that in the face, I don’t care how much Else likes it.”

“Got it, no more pepper spraying people,” Charly agreed seriously. “OOO! I could test the new arrows out! With something like buttered popcorn paint, obviously. Maybe kiwi on the other team.”

“Just limit the pull on the bows, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Fiiiiine…”

Parvati smiled and added to her notes. “So, we probably want someone to correlate the current date to whatever the date would be on Earth… Just in case we need to get a consultant for Holi.”

“Good point. Conor is alarmingly good at that, so I can ask him. It would be a nice cultural event if we could do that. If not, we can totally work on celebrating Holi when it comes around.”

“Final suggestion for right now, because I have to get back to work,” I sighed happily. “This is going to be the biggest ask, and the smallest at the same time…” Both nodded at me to continue. “Care packages, for everyone. And I mean everyone on the Ark.”

“Sophia,” Parvati scolded me. “That’s almost ten thousand people and sixteen animal companions.”

“Well aware,” I forged on, “We’ll talk to Sam about the bows, I can wrap them. Commission some of those really nice chocolates, or maybe some taffy from Simon. And something salty. I know there is someone on the Ark who makes aromatherapy candles, Tyche is bananas about them.”

Shaking her head, she added it to the list. “If you insist on that, I insist on a celebration for the drop out of FTL. Hannah and I can use some of the plans from the Food Festival, include Charly’s paint tag - “

“And Kink Night!”

“- and Kink Night, apparently… have several events going on across the Ark, since we already discussed declaring a holiday.”

“Get Bash’s permission to use the Undine again, and I won’t object,” I surrendered before standing. “On that note, I really do have to get back to work. Come on, Vati, we have work to do apparently.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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apiratewhopines · 3 years

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Thanks to @teamhook for the the eye candy :)

In the Offing

Chapter 16 — Heart of Darkness

Summary: In which our heroine buries multiple hatchets

Notes: This one gets a little gruesome!

Chapter 16 on AO3

“Some mistakes get made

That’s alright, that’s okay

In the end it’s better for me

That’s the moral of the story babe”

-Moral of the Story, Ashe

In the dead of night, her phone started ringing. Looking at the clock, she tried to shake off the fog that threatened to pull her back under. Reaching blindly for her cell and seeing the ID, she groggily answered, “What do you want, Killian?”

“Bloody hell, Swan! If I had known you would get in trouble the second I walked out, I never would have left,” he swore, words breaking with stress. She imagined his hair looked wild at this point if his voice was any indication. “Are you alright?”

“Finally got around to reading the paper, I see,” she replied without emotion as she shifted to sit up in bed. Unable to keep an accusation from seeping into her tone, she continued, “Yes, I’ve had a day to get used to the idea that I’m the most hated person in town but it’s nice of you to join the party. Better late than never I suppose.”

“Liam and I went out on the sailboat, we didn’t get back until a couple of minutes ago. Surely you don’t think I would have left you to fend for yourself if I had known,” he rebuked. When she didn’t say anything, he said grimly, “Or maybe that’s exactly what you thought. Love, you’ll not get rid of me that easily. Can I come over? As a friend.”

She hated that he felt like he had to clarify his intentions. Hated even more that she craved his presence. “No, I’m okay. I need to sleep. I...I’m glad you called though,” she confessed, too tired to maintain the facade that she didn’t care.

“Emma, please—”

“I’ll talk to you later,” she cut him off and hung up before she could change her mind. As much as it hurt, the lines between them were blurred enough without him holding her while she slept which is exactly what would happen if he showed up in the middle of the night. She was beginning to realize that a platonic friendship with him would be impossible. For them it would be all or nothing.

She drifted back to sleep and dreamed of the cottage. The sunshine softly illuminating the porch in the early morning, tiny feet running barefoot across the wood floors, laughter filling every corner of the home. She awoke hours later with a deep sense of peace that was foreign to her.

—

The seagulls squawked longingly as they flew back and forth across the marina docks in search of food left behind by visitors. Emma sat on the bench looking out at the ocean, the heat of the day warming the metal in a pleasant way. While she didn’t want to admit it, she knew she had come to this place in search of Killian.

Instead someone found her.

“I was hoping I would run into you soon,” Liam greeted her as he settled on the bench. As was his norm, he didn’t crowd or even look in her direction. His gaze was fixed out on the distant waves. The stony countenance that always graced his face, the one that used to irritate her so, had somehow changed into a soothing kind of companionship that she had missed.

“Well, you did and here we are. Two grumpy Bostonians stuck in a picturesque nightmare,” she commented, only half joking. She realized that even before their fight, she hadn’t really spent time with him in weeks. Sneaking a look out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the gash on his head was healing nicely, only a thin red line marking the place where the injury occurred. His arm was still in a sling and probably would be for a couple more weeks but he wasn’t as stiff as he had been. Still stiff of course, this was Liam Jones after all, but pompously so instead of painfully.

“Too right,” he agreed. “Although I think you might have gotten the worst of it.”

“Trip’s not over yet. Don’t jinx yourself,” Emma pointed out with a grimace. “Thank you for the transfer. I wasn’t sure you’d come through.”

“Have I ever not lived up to my end of the bargain, Emma? You did what you said you would, you found half the missing persons on our list, doing it admirably and with your normal tenaciousness. If I ever made you think I doubted your abilities or didn’t count you as important, I regret it. I didn’t bring you along as a...what did you call it? A pretty blonde distraction.”

“I haven’t given up, you know. I still want to help you. It’s only that my priorities have to shift for a while,” she told him. Saying that she needed to save her own skin first would have been too melodramatic but she trusted he understood what she meant. He usually did.

“What they printed in the paper was out of line,” he said heatedly. “It was a smear job and it means nothing. You aren’t alone, Emma. You have friends and we will sort this out. It is a fine tangle though.”

“I’m sure it was a shock to read about my past in the Storybrooke Daily Mirror. At least it was for me. There is a reason I like keeping to myself.”

“I knew about your past the second time I talked with Henry, lass,” he laughed. “I think he was feeling me out as a potential suitor. The hope of youth is vast and diabolical.”

Chuckling because that sounded exactly like something Henry would do, she reached out and lightly slapped his shoulder. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m too good for the likes of you, even with a criminal history and fresh charges pending.”

“Aye, you’ll get no argument from me,” he agreed. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he muttered, “Speaking of women who are too good for me, Elsa and I are getting married this Saturday.”

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. The tips of his ears were a faint pink and his lips had softened into a satisfied grin. “I don’t know what to say. Congratulations! That’s really fast.”

“Or really slow depending on how you look at it,” he responded. “I’ve loved her for years and I don’t want to wait another minute. Her sister will be in town on a short break for the holiday so we decided it was the perfect time. We want you to be there. After all if it weren’t for you, I’d still have my head stuck up my ass.”

Snorting, she nodded. “That’s probably true. Honestly, I thought you were an incurable case so I guess you deserve some credit too. But Liam, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I have this shooting hanging over my head and people will talk. I don’t want to detract from your day.”

“Hang them. Have I ever cared what people thought? The whole town will be there whether they are invited or not so what better way to show our solidarity.”

Forcing herself to be truthful, she added, “Things between me and Killian are...unsettled. He might be uncomfortable if I show up.”

Looking at her for the first time, his eyes crinkled in a way that was reminiscent of his brother. “No kidding. His moping around the house and general state of sullenness were my first clues. Trust me, he won’t mind.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s smitten with you. Has been since the moment we stepped foot in town,” he said in a voice that made it clear he thought it was obvious. Smiling out at the horizon, he explained, “Killian has taken to you in a way I’ve never seen before. In the interest of fulfilling my role of wing man, I have to confess that he was on me to tell you about the map and treasure from the minute we made it back to the cottage after the accident, long before you had formed an attachment. I’m sure he’ll give you plenty of reasons to be angry with him in the future but place the blame for this one where it belongs. Squarely on me.”

“I think I may have already burned that bridge,” Emma declared, her smile a sad answer to his.

“Good that my little brother is an excellent swimmer then,” Liam countered, standing up and facing her. “Come to the wedding. Then we’ll get back to work.”

—

Emma walked into the loft several hours later discouraged and annoyed. Having spent a good part of the afternoon at the docks, she decided to stop off at the hospital on the way home to check on August. It was there that the full import of her situation hit her. The ICU staff followed her every move, never leaving her alone with her friend as if they were afraid she would rip out his heart with her bare hands as soon as their backs were turned.

So much for innocent until proven guilty.

Mary Margaret’s sunny smile welcomed her as she stepped across the threshold. “Emma, you just missed Killian. He’d been waiting for you for hours.”

“Hmm” was her only reply. As much as she might want to see him, after her chat with Liam she wasn’t sure she was ready to. There were things she needed to settle in her own mind before she interacted with him again. It wasn’t fair to keep jerking him around. She was going to have to pick a path and stick to it. The problem was her mind was set on one direction and her heart was urging her in another.

“Uh oh, I know that look,” Mary Margaret commented. “You’re reverting.”

Amused in spite of the dark turn of her thoughts, Emma asked, “Reverting? What do you mean?”

“You’re pulling on that armor of yours and you’re readying for battle. Am I right?”

“I’m tired. That’s all. The hospital staff clearly believes everything they read,” she explained while moving into the kitchen to get something to drink. “It’s one thing to think someone capable of murder but it’s another to think they would be stupid enough to do it in broad daylight in a well monitored hospital room.”

“Most people are too wrapped up in their own lives to question the things that people present to them as facts,” she observed sagely. “Regardless, I know what you need to get out of this funk.”

“Do you? And what would that be?”

“We’re going out for a girl’s night. I’ll call Elsa and Ruby. We’ll get dressed up and we’ll show the town that they are wrong about you.”

“I’m not sure there is enough makeup in the world to change their opinions now,” Emma joked, not completely averse to proposal. “I’m also not sure I’m ready to see another story in the paper about how I callously partied my way through Storybrooke while August is on his deathbed.”

“It’s Storybrooke, Emma. How much trouble do you think we could get into? I’m not suggesting an orgy. It’s dinner with people who care about you. Maybe a few drinks.”

Nearly spitting out her orange juice when the word orgy slipped from Mary Margaret’s mouth, Emma shook her head in disbelief and teased, “What in the world has David been doing these last couple of days? You know when I met you, I would have sworn that you didn’t know any four-letter words.”

“Well now I know all of them,” she joked back, her cheeks flushing and eyes dancing with the deep emotion that only comes from being in love and being loved thoroughly and repeatedly. “Get changed. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Hours later, Emma had to admit she was glad she didn’t put up too much of a fight. Elsa and Ruby rounded out their merry little band quite nicely, the cool elegance of the former a stark contrast to the vivid earthiness of the latter. Overall they were a nice blend of independent, intelligent women who, for whatever reason, seemed to have her back.

She also appreciated that they were giving the topic of her brief arrest a wide berth. There was no better way to kill a buzz than to give into harsh realities. They kept the conversation light, discussing Elsa’s imminent wedding and Mary Margaret’s newfound saltiness. Ruby sighed and said, “Everyone is pairing up. It’s about to be nothing but babies and boringness. Then Emma will leave and nothing exciting will ever happen again.”

“That’s me, the bringer of excitement,” Emma commented dryly as her phone vibrated. Seeing that Henry was calling, she excused herself and went to stand outside so she could hear him. She watched a steady stream of people make their way into the bar as Henry begged to fly into town for Liam’s wedding. Figuring her son’s well-informed status must have come from the man himself, she laughed at his logical arguments for the last minute trip. Starting with the ability to celebrate the holiday with her and ending with meeting her new friends, he laid out his reasons as if he were forty instead of ten.

She hadn’t realized the individuals she had met since her arrival had trickled into their conversations so much but the casual way he referred to half a dozen people he had never met drove the point home. Tempted as she was to give in to his earnest and well-thought out pleas, she did not think it was a good time for a visit. She needed to clear her name first. Explaining that there would be time to meet everyone later and promising to send pictures of the ceremony, which effectively made the decision for her about attending, she ended the call and leaned back against the outer wall.

She heard gravel crunching under footsteps before she heard his voice. “Fancy meeting you here,” Graham said as he approached her.

“This is where all the cool kids hang out apparently,” she remarked, turning toward him. “How are you doing, Sheriff?”

“I’ve been better,” he admitted, stopping a couple of feet away and taking up a similar position against the wall. They stood there in silence for several minutes, neither one sure what to say now that they were alone and not interrogating each other. “The forensics came back. The gun was wiped clean. No prints.”

“Dead end then,” she observed, not particularly surprised. If it had been that easy, the guy would have already been caught.

“Not quite. You’d be surprised at the number of criminals who wipe the weapon and completely forget about the bullets. We pulled a partial off one. No hits yet but it definitely doesn’t match Liam’s or yours. They are also analyzing an unusual substance they found on the rags. We may still get lucky.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“It means you are no longer my prime suspect, Emma,” Graham explained with a small smile. “You can go back to hating me with a clear conscience.”

“I never hated you,” Emma argued, sheepishly looking at him from under her lashes. “I just didn’t trust you.”

Laughing softly, his lilting voice carried to her with a hint of delight. “I do love how direct you are.” Gazing into her eyes searchingly, he asked with a quirked brow, “Why is that? What did I do within minutes of meeting you to put you off me so completely?”

“You lied,” she said simply. Returning his searching glance, she took in his handsome face and lean body. In another time or place, if things had been different, she wondered if there would have been something between them. The odd tension stretched around them, forming a little bubble where the outside world didn’t exist. Deciding she had nothing to lose, she asked, “What were you really doing in the woods the night of our accident?”

“Clever girl,” he complimented her with a wink that showed he was teasing rather than patronizing her. With a shrewd look, he asked her, “Do you trust me now?”

“I think you’ve earned a little faith from me,” she replied, curious about the sudden shift in his demeanor. “Why?”

“It might be better if I show you,” he said mysteriously. A second later, her hand was clasped in his and he was pulling her toward his cruiser. “Let’s go.”

Sending a text to her friends to let them know something had come up and she wouldn’t be rejoining them, she buckled herself into the passenger seat and questioned humorously, “Are you taking me to the wolf’s den?”

“There really have been complaints about wolves,” he defended. “Although they are more likely to be coyotes in this area. But you’re right. I wasn’t being honest because I wasn’t sure what I had found. This town has a violent history and this particular investigation I’ve been keeping under wraps. I haven’t even told Nolan about it.”

“So why me? Why now?”

“I don’t know, Emma,” Graham responded truthfully. “There’s something about you. I’ve always been on your side, you just didn’t want to see it. I have a feeling you’re going to be the one to solve everything.”

“Everything is a tall order,” she groused. “I’d settle for finding who shot August.”

They fell into silence as the buildings gave way to trees. In no time, they were approaching the to town line. They emerged from the cruiser at nearly the exact point Liam’s SUV had left the road. With a dubious look at her sandals, he said, “You going to be okay for a walk?”

Mimicking his doubtful glance, she countered, “Are you offering to carry me the whole time?” Before he could say anything, she stepped off the pavement and ordered, “Lead the way.”

Even with the high-powered police flashlights, it was slow going in the inky darkness of the night with the overgrown forest floor threatening to trip them with every footfall. They had probably been hiking arm-in-arm for about thirty minutes, Emma having given up the pretense of making it on her own shortly after they started. “Are you taking me to our crash site?”

“I’m taking you to a crash site,” he corrected. Huffing a bit and wishing she had gone with jeans rather than a dress, she nodded. Then, there was a break in the trees and she could barely make out the charred remains of a sedan.

Pulling away, she carefully circled the burned out car. The light bounced eerily off the blackened metal and with only a slight hesitation, she flooded the front seat with the beam. Letting go of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, she was relieved that it was empty. She really hadn’t been looking forward to finding any more skeletons in Storybrooke. “Who do you think it belonged to?”

“I don’t have to think, I know,” he assured her. “The car was registered to the city. It was reported stolen about twenty-eight years ago.”

“Someone stole city property, took it for a joyride, crashed it, and burned the car to hide the evidence?”

“Perhaps.”

“There’s something you haven’t told me, isn’t there?”

“You do have a knack for ferreting out the truth, Emma,” he respectfully observed. “It would be nice to have you around to help out the department from time to time.”

“Don’t get attached,” she warned seriously. “I’m merely passing through. What else have you found?”

“Follow me,” he directed, taking her arm lightly in his grasp to steady her as they moved deeper into the woods. Less than a quarter mile away from the car, they came upon an abandoned cabin. Flashing her light through the grimy windows, she detected no sign of movement.

Graham entered the one room cabin first and flicked on the light switch. A couple of the bulbs were still working and a dingy, yellow glow filled the room. It was then that she saw the blood stains on the small bed pushed against one wall. Her flashlight continued to trail around the room, illuminating several more bloody rags strewn on the floor. “What the hell happened here?”

“I can’t be sure,” he answered, steadying her again as her knees buckled a little at the overwhelming sight. “If it’s too much, we can go outside. You’ve seen everything there is to see now.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she told him, taking slow breaths in through her nose. “What do you think happened?”

“I think someone had a baby.” He watched her reaction as if concerned she might pass out. Honestly, his fears weren’t totally unfounded. “I’ll spare you from reviewing the evidence that led me to that conclusion since you’re white as a sheet and look like you could double over at any moment.”

“Why haven’t you processed the scene?”

“I’m waiting for the state lab to come. Emma, something happened in Storybrooke decades ago, something that is having a ripple effect to this day. I don’t trust that we’ll find answers locally. I’ve been doing what I can to comb through records regarding pregnancies around that time but it’s slow going with the privacy laws and the fact that I doubt there was a birth announcement for this particular baby.”

“I think I can help you there.” Exhaling shakily, she hurried outside. She heard him come up behind her and didn’t resist when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as if to funnel some of his strength to her. “I’m positive that Eva Blanchard had her baby in that cabin, Graham. I’m also sure that if we continue searching, we’ll find her and Leo’s body somewhere around here. Maybe the baby’s as well.”

Feeling sick, she didn’t protest as he pulled her closer and began the trek out of this grisly corner of the forest. He didn’t question how she knew the things she knew and didn’t pressure her to talk, merely nodding at her in thanks when he dropped her off outside the loft.

That night, her dreams were anything but peaceful.

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hutchhitched · 4 years

Text

So Wrong, So Fast

Written by: @hutchhitched

Prompt 79: Peeta has been planning this marriage proposal for months. It goes horribly wrong. Tell me all about it and what happens next? [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Ratings/Warnings: T

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the fourth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Hope this helps ease your stress during hurricane season, @katnissdoesnotfollowback. This story can be read in the universe of An Everlarking Christmas as a prequel.

____________

“Finn, have you seen my tie?” Peeta Mellark yelled down the hall of their apartment. “I’ve got two minutes before I need to head out.”

“Nope. Haven’t seen it.”

He turned and burst out laughing. His roommate stood in the doorway in ragged sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt. Wrapped around his neck was Peeta’s favorite tie.

“Are you trying to ruin this night for me?”

“I would never do such a thing,” Finnick crowed and loosened the tie. With an exaggerated wink, he tossed it to Peeta and plopped down on the bed. “So, what’s the plan? Wine and dine Everdeen and then bring her back here for a little roll in the hay? Should I change your sheets for you? Make myself scarce?”

“I don’t know how Annie puts up with you,” Peeta muttered and tugged the knot in his tie. It wasn’t quite sitting right, and it was driving him a little nuts. It had taken a lot for Katniss to agree to a formal dinner for their anniversary. She was much more comfortable out of the spotlight or working behind the scenes. Peeta’s insistence that she be showered with affection made her squirm anxiously any time he brought it up, but he’d wanted to do something special to show his girlfriend how much he really loved her, and a fancy dinner date seemed like a tried and true method for demonstrating affection.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Finn. I’ll probably stay at her place tonight. I mean, I am planning to pop the question.”

Finnick yelped and sprang from the bed to engulf his roommate in a bear hug. Lifting Peeta off the floor, he spun them around and finally set Peeta down again when they were both completely dizzy.

“How could you keep this from me?” Finnick barked in a mock offended tone. “You know how much I love romance, and I’m running out of fresh material. What have you got planned? Music? A special menu? The ring in the dessert? No, scratch that. In the champagne? Got her favorite flowers? Rose petals at her place and lit candles? Tell me everything.”

“You’re worse than Delly,” Peeta snorted, referring to his childhood best friend who enjoyed being a woman more than almost any other female. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to jinx it. There’s only so much a guy can handle before he breaks down in a puddle of nervous goo.”

“Can I see the ring?” Finnick asked, still practically vibrating with excitement. “I need ideas for the one I’m gonna buy—because we both know it’s going to be sooner rather than later.”

“You’re a mess. You know that?”

“I am a lovable, sex god who’s given up my reign for the fair Annie Cresta.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot in love who supports you in your inferior attempts to romance women.”

Offended, Peeta glared at his friend. “I am very romantic. Katniss just doesn’t really like it.”

“Oh, really?” Finnick hooted and crossed his arms. “You still haven’t told me what your plan is.”

“You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow because I need to go.” Turning to his friend, Peeta exhaled and held out his arms. “How do I look?”

“You look good, man. You got the ring?”

“Shit! The ring.” He scrambled to his nightstand and opened the top drawer. Rifling through the contents, his fingers settled on a velvet box, and he grabbed it and stuck it in his pocket. “Gotta go. Wish me luck!”

“Good luck!”

Finnick’s well-wishes rang in his ear as he rushed out the door. Jumping into his car, he slammed the door, turned the key in the ignition, and…nothing.

“No, no, no, no, no! Not tonight.”

Turning the key again, Peeta groaned when the battery didn’t turn over and smacked his palms on the steering wheel. Frantic, he leapt from the car and ran into the house.

“Finn! My car won’t start. Can I—?”

“Keys are on the counter. I’ll have Annie pick me up. You’ll need to get gas.”

“Thanks, man!”

He was halfway to his girlfriend’s house when he glanced down and saw the gas gauge was almost on empty. Swearing, he crossed his fingers he could make it to Katniss’ place and then to the restaurant before he had to stop. Irritated that he’d hit almost every red light between his house and hers, he jammed the car into park and rushed to her door.

“You look gorgeous,” he breathed when she opened the door, and he grinned at her shy smile. He leaned forward to kiss her. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her scent and nudged her lips open with his. She tasted amazing, her lips soft and coated with lip gloss. When she moaned into his mouth, he pulled away and took a shuddering breath. “You ready to go?”

She nodded and took his hand. “I’m not used to heels,” she laughed when she wobbled a little against him. “Or dresses. Or makeup. Or not wearing a braid. Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

“Into dinner?” he teased as he helped her into the car and shut the door. He hurried around the car, jumped in, and turned to her. “Sorry. My car wouldn’t start.”

“Into a fancy dinner,” she answered. “What’s wrong with your car?”

He shrugged and grimaced. “Probably a battery. I’ll figure it out tomorrow. How was your day?”

Peeta listened as he drove. He was still jumpy, but having her by his side calmed him a little bit. She wore a slinky peachy, salmon colored dress that dipped low on her chest and hinted at a tiny dip of cleavage. Her gorgeous legs stretched from the hem that rested just above her knees to strappy, gold heels that elongated her legs and made them look twice as long. Her dark hair, which she usually tucked back in a braid, hung loosely in waves around her shoulders and halfway down her back. God, he loved her.

He pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot and helped her out of the car and to the door. Still unused to the heels, she leaned against him, and he reached over to kiss her forehead just as they got to the maître d. He gave his name and frowned when the man looked over his reservation list with a bored look.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t seem to see your name.”

“That’s impossible. I made the reservation two weeks ago. Mellark, table for 2. Can you check again, please?”

“Certainly, sir. Let me just check tomorrow, too. Just in case. Sometimes we make mistakes. Ah, yes, here it is. I’m afraid we have you down for tomorrow evening instead.”

“But—”

“Not to worry, sir. I’m sure it was a miscommunication,” the man assured in an infuriatingly disinterested voice, but Peeta flushed with discomfort. He had a niggling feeling that maybe it was his mistake and not the restaurant’s, but he was grateful they seemed willing to accommodate them—even if the guy looked like he’d rather do anything than speak to them. Possibly it would all still work. Perhaps the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach would be soothed by good food and attentive service. Maybe he’d ask the woman of his dreams to marry him and she’d say yes. Otherwise, he might die of humiliation.

“Uh, I—”

Katniss watched with a bemused expression. When Peeta seemed incapable of stringing together more than two words, she suggested calmly, “Perhaps we could wait at the bar while the table’s prepared?”

“Yes, miss. If you’ll just step this way, we’ll serve you there. Might I suggest a red?”

Peeta followed and sagged gratefully onto a stool. The bartender asked for their orders, and Katniss surprised them both when she asked for a gin martini. Taking his cue from her, he ordered a bourbon. The smoky, caramel flavor washed over his tongue and eased his jangling nerves. Grateful for her calm, he entwined his fingers with hers and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Sorry for the confusion,” he said in a low voice. She took a sip of her drink and looked at him over the rim through her eyelashes. A bead of liquid lingered on her lower lip, and he gave her a soft kiss to lick away the stray drop.

She hummed against his mouth. “I think I can forgive you,” she murmured and kissed him again.

By the time they got their table, his stomach rumbled, and Katniss had the look in her eye she always got indicating she’d crossed into hangry. However, the waitress, a slight young woman named Rue, took care of them graciously and attentively. She suggested flash fried spinach for an appetizer and left them to themselves.

Dinner was spectacular. The food was delicious and they chatted and laughed as they enjoyed each other’s company. Wrapped in each other, they shared bites and tangled their spoons over the last bit of sorbet and ganache. Everything was perfect until the bill came and he reached into his back pocket. Peeta’s face drained of color. Stricken, he looked at Katniss. He couldn’t believe what he’d have to do.

“What’s wrong?”

Devastated, he answered, “I can’t believe I did this.”

“Did what?”

“Katniss, I forgot my wallet.”

“You forgot…”

“Yeah, my wallet,” he repeated, his cheeks flaming with humiliation.

She laughed and leaned across the table to grab his hand. “It’s no big deal. I can get it.”

“That’s not the point, Kat. I asked you to dinner. I made a huge deal of it, and now I can’t even pay. I’m so sorry.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you for this gaffe,” she teased. “I might as well just break up with you right now. I mean, how could I ever trust you again? Be honest, hon. You’re really just looking for a sugar mama, aren’t you?”

He knew she was teasing, knew it meant nothing and was intended to make him feel better, but he was sick to his stomach. After all this time, all the planning he’d put into proposing to the love of his life, and he couldn’t even manage to remember his wallet. If nothing else, it seemed like a terrible omen. How could he handle a marriage if he forgot such basics? He tried to tell himself he’d never done this before, that it was the only time he’d ever been quite so careless, but his insecurities got the better of him.

He was quiet as Katniss paid the check and they walked to the car. Maybe there was still time to salvage the evening. He had the ring in his pocket. The proposal would make his mistakes all better. He’d planned for weeks. Arranged for every variable. It was going to be perfect. He just had to get them to where they’d first met.

Music played softly as they drove with the windows partially lowered. A gentle breeze whipped through the car, and her hair created a cloud around her face. She sang softly, and his heart clenched at the joy on her face. He always wanted her to sing more, since it brought her such pleasure, but it was highly personal to her. He didn’t get to hear it nearly enough.

They were less than a mile from their destination when the car started to chug, and his stomach dropped. “No, no, no!” he growled. “Please, no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“God, please keep going,” he begged, but Finnick’s car shivered and shook and ground to a halt. If it’d been a person, he would have said it coughed itself to death. “Shit.”

“Peeta?”

“We’re out of gas.” Slamming the palm of his hand against the steering wheel, he released a long groan and thumped his head against the headrest. Grumbling, he closed his eyes and took in a huge gulp of air. “What a fucking night.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s so bad.”

He glanced over at her and gave her a sad smile. “You’re so amazing.”

“I’ve heard that before,” she grinned. “My boyfriend tells me that all the time.”

“Does he?”

“He really does.”

“Lucky bastard.”

“He really is.”

The way the moonlight fell across her face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He wanted to paint her in that moment, so he could freeze time and live in it forever. More than anything, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman.

“How married are you to the idea of those shoes?” he asked suddenly.

“I despise these things, Peeta. You know that.” A smile played across her lips, and he stretched across the seat to kiss her.

“Take them off.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. I have a plan.”

Full of renewed energy, he bounced out of the car and ran around to open her door. Offering her his hand, he pulled her upright and threaded his fingers through hers. Without a word, he kissed her forehead and led her down the street.

“Are we going to the meadow?” she asked as they rounded the corner. “Sweetheart…”

He grinned and guided her to a tree at the edge of the open area before hauling her in for a passionate kiss. She melted against him, and he cradled her to his chest.

“I love you so much, Katniss,” he murmured against her lips. “I can’t remember what my life was like without you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Grinning, he dropped to his knee and looked up at her. Her eyes widened when he sank down, and he reached into his pocket to pull the ring box free.

“Every day since I’ve met you has been better than any best day I had before we met. I don’t want to have another one without you. Katniss Everdeen.” He paused and opened the ring box. Holding it out to her, he asked, “Will you please make me the happiest man in the world and spend the rest of your life with me?”

Katniss nodded vigorously. “Of course, I will, Peeta. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Relief flooded through him. He hadn’t even been aware how nervous he was until she agreed to his proposal, but he suddenly felt like his limbs were limp noodles. He couldn’t comprehend the buzzing in his veins, but he was sure his blood was florescent with endorphins. That wasn’t a thing, but still. Thrilled, he reached into the box to get the ring and—

“You have got to be kidding me!”

The ring box was empty. The ring he’d picked out for her wasn’t there. Instead, the slit where it should have been grinned at him manically, and he wondered briefly who he’d pissed off in a past life to make this night go so spectacularly terrible. After all the planning and soul searching and angst, the perfect proposal had disintegrated into such a total pile of—

“What’s wrong?”

Katniss stood over him, trembling and half-grinning/half-weeping. The longer he remained on his knee, the more concerned she became. He looked down at the empty box that mocked him and huffed in annoyance. He realized as the moisture from the ground soaked into his pants at the knee that he’d grabbed the box he’d kept from a prank gone wrong with Finnick on Valentine’s Day. In his rush, he hadn’t even bothered to make sure he got the one with the ring in it.

“I’m an idiot. That’s what’s wrong,” he groaned.

“Are you— Do you not want to…” she asked in a tortured whisper.

He popped to his feet and wrapped her in his arms. “Oh, no, sweetheart! Of course, I want to marry you. I’m so happy you said yes. I just, uh— I forgot the ring.”

“You forgot the ring?”

Frustrated, he nodded and hung his head. “I really, really did.”

Silence hung for a few seconds, but then he felt panic bubbling inside him until— Laughter poured from him in lusty bursts that shocked him and caused her to chuckle. Before he knew it, he was doubled over, heaving for breath, and laughing so hard, he almost fell over. Katniss joined him after a few seconds, his mirth contagious as he struggled to gain his composure. Soon, they clung to each other as they guffawed, unable to stop.

“Who proposes and forgets the ring?” she howled, her eyes sparking with humor.

“I do!”

“Runs out of gas. Forgets his wallet.”

“Me!”

“Why is this so funny?” she giggled. “Bless your heart. You tried so hard.”

He forced himself to get it together and pulled her close. Brushing her hair back, he tilted his head and kissed her. “I really did.”

She hummed against his mouth and opened it as his tongue swept inside. The kiss grew heated quickly, and he slanted her mouth so he could devour her. When she whimpered, he tangled her hair in one hand and let the other drift lower to cup her hip and then pull her leg up and over his.

“Katniss,” he hissed as she rocked her hips against his.

“How mad do you think Finnick would be if you abandoned his car?”

“Furious. Why?” he asked between heated, open-mouthed caresses.

“I really don’t want to wait for help when we could get a ride to your place.”

“I thought we were staying at yours tonight.”

“We could,” she breathed against his cheek before catching his earlobe in her teeth and biting it gently. “Or we could go to yours, put that ring on my finger, and consummate our engagement.”

He grinned and nuzzled her neck. “That sounds pretty amazing,” he breathed as he nibbled along her jawline.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmmm. Maybe we can salvage this night after all.”

“You mean me agreeing to marry you wasn’t enough for our date to be a good one?” she teased as she pulled away and started walking back to the car. “Shoes. Purse. Would like to take them with me.”

He tugged his phone from his pocket and arranged for a car. Grinning, he called after her, “It all went so wrong, so fast, but I think we’re on our way to making it even more memorable.”

“I love you, Mellark,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“I love you more, Everdeen! Gonna marry the hell out of you.”

She backed away from him, and he followed. The last thing he wanted was to let her slip away from him into the darkness.

#everlarkficexchange #springtime edition 2020 #prompt 79 #everlark #everlark fanfiction #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #so wrong so fast

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insane-control-room · 3 years

Text

Not Over Yet

for @writingdispenser based on their amazing fic, I’m Gonna Like the Way You Fight

ao3 link here

Sometimes the best laid plans are disrupted.

It was supposed to go perfectly. They had planned for everything and anything, even bringing packs of food and drink just in case they got stuck. The plan itself was flawless, two utterly brilliant men conjuring the smartest and most untrackable idea, a mix of minds that was so impenetrable that Spy knew that it had to have been an inside job. Had someone seen their movements and subsequently gave them away? He could have sworn that he heard the tell tale clack of high heels behind him right before Engineer’s yelp and the bat blinked in his vision moments prior to it all going dark. Yet again, it all happened too fast for his liking.

He groaned and let his head lean back. His arms were sore and unable to move, as were his legs. Whomever it was that caught them must have known who they were dealing with, and made sure to tie him up tight. Was Engineer in the same situation? Where was Engineer, in any case? Spy could not see him, eyes darting left to right. Trying to speak and call out for him failed too, his mouth dry.

He cleared his throat painfully, about to try again, when he heard him talk first, a weak, “Spy…?”

“I am here,” Spy quickly assured him. “Are you alright? I am afraid that my good looks are a little off kilter for the time being, as my nose feels like it is broken.”

“And I,” Engineer replied slowly, as if forming words into comprehensive lines was a strenuous task, “Might have a little bit of a concussion.”

“Oh,” Spy winced. “That… does not sound good.”

“No, no it doesn’t, I’ll reckon,” Engineer conceded. “I’m right sure that it sounds pretty bad.”

“Are you tied up?” Spy asked, trying to gauge their situation. Engineer hummed an affirmative. “Well, ah, let’s think of our options.”

“I don’t have my wrench,” Engineer muttered. “Can’t teleport out of here.”

“They must have known about it,” Spy hissed, trying to wriggle himself free. Everything felt strangely stiff and heavy. “Is it somewhere around this area, though?”

“I think it’s on a table just a bit away,” Engineer answered. “I’m going to try to get to it.”

When Engineer moved, Spy realized why it was so hard to do anything.

They were tied to each other.

Engineer seemed to reach the same conclusion at the same time.

“This is both better than I expected and worse,” he commented. “If we’re tied together, maybe we can work together to get up and move. Did you ever have to get up with a partner in a gym class?”

“What the hell are you talking about,” Spy snapped, losing his patience and growing agitated in worry. “Non, I have not.”

“Okay, so what we gotta do is,” Engineer leaned against Spy. “We need to push against each other and get into a vee shape with our legs. On the count of three, one, two, three!”

It took a bit of time, but eventually the two men found themselves on their four feet, panting and groaning from the exertion.

“On your feet?” Engineer asked between breaths. Spy could only nod. For a mercenary he thought this would be nothing difficult, especially not for a spy, but he supposed that being knocked out and with a concussed partner would make things a bit harder. “Good, good. I think that the best way to do this is to get the wrench in one hand for both of us.”

“Are we retreating?” Spy asked, almost disappointed. He wanted to continue on. Engineer paused, shoulders sagging down. “We can continue. This is just a… small setback, that is all.”

“I-- I want to agree with you,” Engineer said slowly. “But….”

He looked to his feet. He did not know how to word this.

I don’t want you to get hurt? Your safety and preservation is important?

“We’re a team. We decided to do this together, and if things are goin’ south as they are, then maybe it would be smart to back up and regroup. To come at this with fresh eyes,” Engineer decided to say. “Maybe that way they wouldn’t think of us as a threat anymore.”

“Or maybe they’ll block off our access point and increase security, which will happen whether or not we stay,” Spy pointed out. Engineer grew silent. “Let’s think about the moment. If we go, we might lose our ability to go through with our plan.”

“You’re right,” Engineer admitted. “I guess I’m a bit worried.”

“You, worried?” Spy snorted. “The man who snuck over enemy lines to place a sentry right by their respawn? He who set up camp directly above the RED respawn?”

“Okay, yes, I might have done some pretty risky things,” Engineer huffed, trying to look for Spy’s knife so they could cut themselves free. “This is different.”

“How so?”

Those, he did alone. Those, he could plan for and escape in the blink of an eye without worrying about anyone or anything. This, in an indescribable way, was different.

However, bringing that up brought an idea to his mind.

“Spy, you can use BLU teleporters, right?”

“Yes, cher, and what does that have to do--”

“What if we get out of here, and watch for when they lax up security again,” Engineer began, and Spy, figuring out his plot, finished for him, “And teleport in while their guard is down. Brilliant.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Engineer hummed. “But we still need to get untied and I need to set up the teleporter somewhere they wouldn’t think to look. And I don’t think that my brain is working enough to determine a place like that.”

“First things first,” Spy soothed, also unable to locate his knife. “Getting out of these ropes.”

“Y-yeah. That’s probably a good start,” Engineer mumbled. It was hard to concentrate. “Do you have any ideas for how to do that?”

“We could try stretching it out and hoping it will loosen,” Spy offered. “Or find something rough to saw it off.”

“Would a buzzsaw work?”

“Yes, I-- where do you see a buzzsaw?”

“Right in front of me.”

Spy craned his neck, and sure enough, there was a circular blade sitting on the table beside Engineer’s wrench. Operating it would be tricky, and not cutting off their fingers would be trickier, but with calm concentration they would be able to use it to their advantage.

Then there was a pause.

“Wait a second.”

“What?” Spy heard a curious noise in Engineer’s voice, almost as though he was holding in laughter. “What is it, Engineer?”

“Hold my right hand, no, the other right,” Engineer instructed him. “Tight.”

When Spy did so, he was greeted by the unnerving sense that all was not as it seemed within that rubber glove. Sure enough, he could feel the Engineer twist his wrist, bend his elbow, and leave his hand in Spy’s grasp.

The rope, no longer holding them, fell from Spy’s wrist. They turned to face each other, their other hands still bound. Spy awkwardly held out Engineer’s hand for him to take, staring at the place it should have been on the man’s body. A mechanical base was at his wrist, and Spy quickly realized that he was holding a prosthetic.

“Did you build it yourself?” he asked, curious. Engineer nodded. “That is incredible.”

“Thank you,” Engineer accepted, blushing just a tad. Spy found it a bit exhilarating to be the first to discover this-- or at least, it felt like it, and that was how he would hold it in his mind. Engineer, breaking away from staring at Spy, turned to fumble with undoing the knot on their still bound wrists. “Uh, do you want to pick where I put the teleporter? Somewhere that we both can reach it, and where it wouldn’t be noticeable.”

“Let’s scout out this hall,” Spy offered. “Perhaps we will be able to spot somewhere of interest. I’m sure that this place is rather dull, as they put us here expecting us to find nothing.”

“True,” Engineer nodded in agreement. “But let’s be careful when we go out. Our only weapons are… a wrench and a buzzsaw.”

“Not exactly ideal, but workable,” Spy commented. “Still, it doesn’t seem like they were expecting us to be able to escape at all, seeing as they did not put any watch over us.”

“Don’t jinx it, Spy,” Engineer warned him. “We don’t know that, maybe whoever was on our watch just stepped out for a smoke.”

“I will backstab them if they did,” Spy told him bluntly. “And yes, with the buzzsaw.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Engineer tried not to laugh. It brought a smirk to Spy’s face, and the man picked up the blade, weighing it in his hand. It was battery powered, which would be quite helpful against any enemies they might encounter. They made their way out into the hallway, glancing around corners to see no one, but if they strained their ears, the sounds of a patrol could be heard in the distance. “Do you want to go left or right?”

Spy pondered for a moment. Left was closer to the central hallway, right seemed to lead to a dead end.

“Let’s go left,” he whispered. “Just with caution.”

Engineer nodded, and the two crept along the path. Glancing along the hallway, they were able to tell that the floor was sloped, and down probably meant where they needed to go.

They signaled to each other, and Spy slipped into the shadows to find the nearest nook to hide in. Soon he returned to Engineer, and once a guard marched past them, the pair stealthily made their way to a room, the lock already picked by Spy. It was a bit difficult with Engineer’s vision pulsing at times and confusion attacking his senses, but Spy kept him steadily on their goal.

After repeating this several times, and getting an approximate two miles into the facility over the course of an hour, they finally heard signs that their escape was noticed. Grinning at one another, they were able to make much faster progress now, as the guards of GRN and YLW were going up the hallway slope instead of down, expecting them to have retreated. Soon, they reached a door that was electronically sealed, and Spy frowned.

“Should we go back now?” he asked Engineer. “So I could get my sapper.”

“Or we could wait for someone to open the door for us,” Engineer replied, but that course of action became disproven as someone did go through the door in a moment-- and it left no window of opportunity to slip through, opening and closing immediately. “Sapper it is.”

They back tracked two rooms to determine where to hide the teleporter. A shelf was brought into question, thought it would be rather annoying to deal with, seeing that it was close to the ceiling and would force them into a stoop, and possibly break their backs.

“Wait a moment,” Spy reached out his hand to stop Engineer from climbing up the shelves to look around the room. “If, as I think, it was an inside job that gave us away, then they will be expecting us to come back in from above, as that is your rather signature maneuver. So perhaps, a wiser move will be to come from below.”

“What about that there grate?” Engineer asked, pointing at a relatively man sized hole. Spy realized that was a way further into the building. Spy mentioned it to him quietly, and they slipped within. Crawling along quietly, they dropped down into the next flight, and edging into the room, they sighed with relief as no one was around. They crossed the hall into the room across, too many people marching by to be comfortable with going any further without any of their, especially Spy’s, gear.

They set up the teleporter, and then Spy found himself in a tight hold, Engineer’s face inches from his own, and then there was a strange sensation similar to teleporting, and they were back at spawn-- BLU spawn, to be precise.

“Medbay, now,” Engineer grunted, hauling Spy over his shoulder much like one of his toolboxes. The medical bed under his back was strangely comfortable, and the healing rays sinking into him felt like a blissful blessing as well. He suddenly was assaulted by smells, now realizing that he had been unable to due to his nose having been swollen. He sighed and relaxed, his eyes closing out of instinct. The Engineer smelled of sweat and hard work, but more importantly, safety, and it let him drift….

“Spy, don’t pass out on me again, now,” firm hands shook his shoulders. His eyes snapped open, and he tried to ask him what he meant by ‘again’, but his mouth was too dry. “You awake now? Good. Good. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Spy replied, rubbing his eyes. The scent of the Engineer was again in his nostrils, this time awakening him rather than putting him to sleep. “I… I didn’t realize. It was very soothing.”

“Ah yeah, I know,” Engineer huffed, sitting next to him and leaning against him under the tranquil rays of the medbay’s medigun. “I wonder if this stuff can fix up a concussion….”

“We’ll see,” Spy mumbled, leaning against him as well. The change of plans, at first a painful poke at his pride, now seemed further away than he could have dreamed. And, he decided, as an arm wrapped over his shoulder, soft muscle embracing him in a half hug, that he preferred this outcome, in a strange, sentimental way he thought he had shed many years ago. His own arm snaked behind Engineer’s back, and the two of them sat there, silently inhaling and exhaling, glad to be alive and with one another. Spy, stirring out of his trance and growing a touch embarrassed, coughed, and then asked Engineer: “Do you think we should infiltrate again in the dead of night or in broad daylight? Both will have the advantage of surprise.”

“Right now, I can’t think much about that,” Engineer told him in response.

“Fair enough,” Spy answered with a slight smile and shrug. “Are you feeling any better, though?”

“It feels like my brain is being remolded,” Engineer replied, rubbing his forehead. “It hurts a little, but I hope it will get better soon.”

“Aw, poor Engie,” Spy crooned, and began rubbing circles over the man’s temples. “Is this helping at all?”

“Yeah, it is,” he sighed. “Thank you.”

Spy said nothing. He did not feel like there was anything to say. Instead, he rubbed his temples for a few moments longer, and then leaned back against his strong hold. They breathed in unison as their bodies and minds rested and healed.

Looking at each other when they finally got up, they both grinned, reinvigorated.

The game wasn’t over until they called it.

#engiespy #engineer #tf2 #team fortress 2 #spy #engineer/spy #gift fic #control art #control writes

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onlydreamofmysoul · 4 years

Link

Let Them Eat Cake Part i (Wolfstar Bake off AU)

Welcome back to the newest season of The Great British Bake Off.

Remus walked into the iconic tent, holding his breath. He had quite literally grown up watching this show - it was a staple in the Lupin household and now here he was, about to be on it.

He wasn’t even sure if it had properly hit him yet.

He made eye contact with one or two of the other bakers, some of whom he had begun to get a little acquainted with, all of them smiling nervously back at him and he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. This was really happening. He wandered over to the bench he had been assigned, running a hand over the wooden worktop reverently. It was pristine now - all the surfaces were, but Remus knew for a fact that the particular sparkle they boasted would be gone quick enough.

“Welcome bakers!”

Remus looked up as the two presenters; Sirius Black and James Potter waltzed into the room, followed closely behind by the two judges; Minerva McGonagall and Dumbledore. Remus’ breath hitched in his chest in a cacophony of feelings and somehow all he could think of was ‘does Dumbledore have a first name?' Remus had certainly never heard of one.

“It’s lovely to have you all here for this season’s Great British Bake Off.” James said, picking up from where Sirius had left off. “I’m sure you all must be very nervous to meet your judges, but let me assure you,” He paused to look around the room seriously. “The only person you need to impress here is me.”

The room let out a nervous laugh - a quick release of tension and James grinned. “In all seriousness, it is great to have you here. Now, allow me the pleasure of introducing you to our judges.”

McGonagall and Dumbledore both stepped forward, smiling slightly. “Welcome, everybody.” Dumbledore said, looking around the room. “It is with pleasure that I announce that this week is our cake week.”

Remus nodded. They, of course, already knew this, having practiced their showstopper challenge about a million times each (or precisely sixteen and a half in Remus’ case) but this was for the benefit of the viewers. He had to admit, it was really strange looking around the tent he had familiarised himself with long ago and seeing a bunch of cameras and microphones. He had expected them to be there of course, but it was still slightly off putting having someone with a big metal stick follow you around.

“For our first challenge, Dumbledore and I want you to bake twelve individual muffins, with six of one flavour and six of another.”

“Each cake must be identical,” Dumbledore continued, “We’re looking for a lovely even bake with a nice firm inside and of course,” He said looking around teasingly, “No soggy bottoms.”

Remus chuckled along with everyone else in the tent and the two presenters stepped forward once more.

“The time has come Jamie, are you ready?”

“I most certainly am Sirius, but the question is… are our bakers ready?”

Sirius looked right at Remus and grinned. “I suppose we’re about to find out.”

“On your marks,”

“Get set,”

“Bake!”

Remus set off, measuring his ingredients and pulling out bowls and whisks as the tent broke out into a flurry of movement. He was careful not to let his nerves get the best of him - he would stay calm and take his time, rushing wouldn't help anything. He was vaguely aware of the camera crew moving around the room but he was in his own little bubble for the moment.

“Hey, Remus yeah?”

Remus looked up at the familiar voice and fuck, Sirius Black was talking to him.

“Um yeah, that’s me.” He laughed, trying to pull himself together because there was a camera trained on them and he would be damned if the entire nation saw him make a fool out of himself.

“So, what’re you making today?” Sirius asked, leaning his hip against Remus’ worktop and essentially looking like one of Remus’ many daydreams about the man in that very same leather jacket.

“Enchiladas.” Remus deadpanned and was delighted when Sirius laughed. “I’m making lemon and blueberry and also bacon and maple syrup muffins.”

“Bacon and maple syrup?”

Remus nodded, his face flushing a little. “Yeah, I've been making these ones for years actually. When I was a kid I used to put maple syrup on literally everything so it’s really not surprising that it made an appearance in my baking.”

Sirius grinned at him and began to move away. “I’m excited to try them so.”

Remus smiled, biting his lip before shaking his head and getting back to work. He wasn’t here to chat to Sirius Black. He was here to bake.

Baking had always been one of Remus’ pastimes. It was like his own little form of therapy. Whenever he was stressed - he would bake. Whenever he was really stressed, he would mix everything by hand. All that beating was really cathartic (Also it gave him really strong arms but that's besides the point). He whipped up the batch of lemon and blueberry first - they were a staple in his house and he could make them with his eyes closed. He used his time chopping walnuts to relieve any remaining nerves that lingered after talking to Sirius Black for a mere minute.

“Hey Re.”

Remus whipped around to face Lily, the contestant right behind him. They had met last night - in the ‘Bake Off Bubble’ after everyone had moved in and Remus had known straight away that they would be friends.

“Hey Lily,” Remus glanced at her counter. Well, what he could see of it, the entire surface was covered in a layer of cinnamon and sugar, left behind after she had dusted one set of cakes. “How’s it going?”

Lily leaned forward a bit giggling. “I’m afraid to say this, because I’ll totally jinx myself, but it’s actually going really well so far.”

Remus grinned. “I’ll say it for you instead.”

Lily nodded solemnly. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” She paused, grinning, to stop her mixer, running her spatula along the edges of the bowl a few times in quick, practised movements to ensure all the batter was being thoroughly mixed before turning back to Remus. “Have the judges been over to you yet?”

Remus shook his head. “Not yet, just Sirius.”

Lily wiggled her eyebrows. “Ooh, having chats with Sirius, are you?”

Remus rolled his eyes. Pre-competition bonding, alcohol and a curious redhead did not go well together. Remus hadn’t even been here a full twenty four hours and he had already exposed the fact that he used to have a bit of a crush on one of their presenters.

“Oh hush you, they’re coming around to all of us.”

“Indeed we are, Mr Lupin.”

Remus whipped around, his face burning to see the two judges standing in front of his bench. “Oh, hello.”

“Good morning.” Dumbledore said, smiling warmly. Remus pretended he couldn’t hear Lily sniggering in the background. “What will you be presenting today?”

The pair listened, nodding along as Remus told them of his plans, only stumbling over his words once and managing to restrain from toying with the cuffs of his sleeves. He knew the cameras were on him.

“I must say, I’m surprised at the lemon and blueberry choice, some people would say that it’s a little predictable.” McGonagall said, peering at him over the rim of her glasses.

Remus didn’t blush, he had known this comment would come. “That’s true I suppose, but they’re my favourite. I’m a coeliac and this was the very first recipe I got right with gluten free flour so they’ve always had a special place in my heart.”

Dumbledore smiled, meeting his gaze and Remus was startled at how incredibly blue his eyes were. “I look forward to trying them.”

Remus glanced back at Lily once, as they left in a ‘please tell me they didn’t overhear our conversation’ but Lily was no help, she just laughed at his pain. Remus just sighed and set back to work. He lined his muffin trays with strips of bacon, making sure they were all nicely covered before pouring in the batter. He popped the trays in the oven, taking a moment to appreciate how well everything here worked - all the doors slid seamlessly, every knife was deathly sharp and every tool was gleaming. Back at home, there was nearly always something broken or in a state of disrepair that would make Remus have to improvise a little bit. He put the lemon and blueberry muffins on a cooling rack and having already made the maple filling he set about making a cup of tea.

“Oh can we have a cup too?”

Remus looked up to see both James and Sirius at his bench, grinning wickedly at him.

“Yeah, of course.” Remus pulled out two more mugs and dropped a tea bag into each. Strong or weak? He asked as he left his to brew.

“Weak please.” James said while Sirius went for strong. Remus slid James’ mug and milk across the counter while he removed the tea bags from the other two mugs before adding a fair amount of sugar to his own, causing Sirius to raise an eyebrow.

“What?” He defended himself. “I’m on Bake Off, it can’t be a surprise that I like sweet things.”

Sirius’ laugh was like a lovely little reward for saying something even remotely funny and the little fanboy inside Remus perked up at the sound. “Besides, who drinks black tea these days? I thought only dramatic movie characters did that.”

James nodded along as he swung himself up to sit on the bench. Remus raised an eyebrow but said nothing. “That’s what I say! I think he’s too pretentious for his own good really. It’s the same with his coffee - ‘Black for Black’.”

“Wow.” Remus said, smiling into his cup even as Sirius hot James’ shoulder playfully. “That’s dedication if nothing else.” Before Sirius could reply, Remus’ timer went off.

“Ooh muffin time!” James sang, hopping down from the counter and out of the way as Remus opened the oven and pulled out the muffins. Not to brag or anything, but he thought they were perfect.

“We’ll leave you to it.” They said, taking their mugs with them and moving out of the way. Remus was a little disappointed, but also glad because he needed to focus and he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to do that if Sirius Black had stayed to watch.

He placed the hot muffins on their own cooling rack and filled a syringe with the maple syrup concoction before injecting a fair amount into each one. It was ridiculously satisfying to watch them swell a little as he filled them, but he had to remember to pull back lest he add too much and throw off the delicate balance.

“Bakers, you have two minutes left.” James called and despite being nearly finished, Remus felt that little spike of panic flow through him. Where had the time gone?

He quickly transferred both sets of muffins onto his plate for presenting them, lining them up in four rows of three, quickly dusting just a faint hint of icing sugar over the top and moving away.

“Bakers, your time is up, please place your cakes at the end of your bench and step away.”

Remus sat down on the stool he pulled out from under the bench and took a deep breath. He made it in time. His cakes looked okay. He could totally do this.

The judges entered the room and started making their way around the tent. Remus smiled at Lily nervously before tucking his hands under his thighs to hide the fact that they were trembling softly. He tried to pay attention to what the judges were saying to the others but really he could only hear his heart pounding in his ears. They moved away from the first contestant and then a few minutes later, from the second and then they were standing right in front of him. This was it - his first chance to prove himself.

“Hello again Mr Lupin.” McGonagall smiled as James and Sirius flanked the judges. There was a tense silence for a few minutes as each judge picked up a cake.

“They’re all identical, which is really nice to see.” Dumbledore said, right before halving a muffin. “Lovely even bake through this.”

McGonagall cut open a bacon and maple syrup and the sweet filling oozing out of the cake. “Look at this,” She said, “Really lovely work there. And I really like how the cake is wrapped in the rasher.”

Remus held a breath as they each took a bite, barely able to breathe.

Dumbledore smiled and relief flooded through Remus’ system. “Some excellent work here today Mr Lupin, well done.”

“Thank you,” Remus stammered, hardly able to talk though the beaming smile that had taken over his face. The judges moved away but James and Sirius lingered a moment longer.

“Can we try?” Sirius asked, pointing to the cakes. Remus nodded and while James went straight for the bacon and maple, Sirius paused.

“You said the lemon ones were your favourite, right?”

How did Sirius even know that? He wasn’t even there when Remus had mentioned it to the judges… he must have overheard. Nevertheless, Remus nodded and tried to hide a confused little smile as Sirius plucked a lemon and blueberry.

“Oh my god this is unreal.” James moaned as he started to walk away, clapping Remus’ shoulder. “Well done mate.”

Sirius closed his eyes, smiling as he chewed his. “They’re my favourite too.”

Remus was glad he was sitting down. Having anything in common with his celebrity crush was in itself nearly too much for him to handle, but said celebrity crush liking his baking? Well, not to be repetitive but; Remus was glad he was sitting down.

“That was crazy.”

“I know.”

“Like… So crazy.”

“I know.”

Remus and Lily were sitting outside on the lawn, eating their lunch before they had to take on their next challenge and they had both been saying the same thing for a solid two minutes.

“It’s just so crazy!” Lily exclaimed. “We just did our first challenge! And it went well!”

“I know!” Remus was still in shock himself. He had given all his cakes to the crew - all the bakers did, bar one for themselves. Remus had eaten his gluten free lemon and blueberry muffin, savouring the fact that the judges liked it and certainly not thinking about how Sirius Black had liked it too.

Nope, definitely not.

“The whole thing has made me a bit calmer about the next challenge, how about you?”

Remus nodded along in agreement as he stabbed another bunch of lettuce with his fork. “Yeah, I mean I’m still a bit nervous, but less so having actually done one.”

“And let’s not forget the fact that you had a bit of face time with Mr Black himself.”

Remus refused to let himself blush. “Oh shove off, I never should have told you that.” He said laughing a little defeatedly, wiping at his flushed face with his hand.

“No, you were definitely right to have told me. Now I can say that he looks at you way more than the others.” She teased, drawing out the ‘way’.

Remus rolled his eyes. “He’s Sirius Black. I’m just a book-loving, cardigan wearing, baking nerd from Wales. Until today, he never even knew I existed and whenever this show is over, he’ll soon forget about me.”

“Okay.” Lily said, her tone indicating she in no way believed him but she would let it slide for now. Remus breathed a sigh of relief. He could totally do this.

Remus Lupin could not do this.

His cakes weren’t rising, his cream was melting in the heat and those fucking instructions were useless.

“Ah I recognise the face of someone dealing with their first technical challenge.” Sirius said, appearing at his side.

Remus scrubbed his face tiredly. “Make a Victoria sponge.” He said lifelessly. “Those were their instructions. Nothing more. Like, what?”

Sirius bit his lip. Remus had to avert his eyes, he already had one crisis to deal with right now. “Yeah those two apparently aren’t very big on words.”

Remus just groaned at the attempt at humour. “This isn’t going to work.”

“And you called me dramatic?” Remus peeked out between his fingers to see Sirius leaning on his worktop grinning up at him. “You’ve got this Lupin.”

Remus began to nod slowly. “You think so?”

Sirius scoffed. “Of course!” He stood up straight and began to walk away. “Besides, if everything goes to shit, the worst thing that could happen is you embarrass yourself on national television and get sent home.”

At that, Remus burst out laughing. “That’s certainly an… interesting pep talk.”

Sirius grinned. “That’s me.”

Remus was still smiling a little while later as he assembled his cakes. Yes, the sponges didn’t rise as much as he would have like, but otherwise they were fine. He had managed to salvage the cream by putting it in the fridge for a while and the jam that he made had turned out really nicely. If nothing else, he had that going for him. The two presenters called time and the contestants all placed their cakes on the table at the front of the tent, behind the pictures of their faces. This challenge was a blind judge - McGonagall and Dumbledore didn’t know who had made what until after they released the results.

Remus sat down on a stool, with Lily on one side of him and a bloke named Peter on the other.

“Good luck.” Peter whispered to him and with that, the judges re-entered the tent.

“Good afternoon bakers!”

“Afternoon!” Everyone chorused back and Remus had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing at the sudden sensation that he was back in school and the teacher had just come into class.

“Okay, let’s just dive right in shall we?”

They all waited with baited breath as the judges tried each and every one of their cakes.

“Now this one is excellent.” Dumbledore said, taking a bite of the cake behind the picture of the pretty girl with bubble-gum pink hair. Remus glanced down the line and saw she was trying to hide a relieved grin. Lily was bouncing her leg incessantly and Remus had to cover her knee with his hand to get her to stop. He knew the cameras had caught the movement and to top it all off, Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. Remus bit his lip but didn’t move his hand - Lily had smiled at him gratefully and they both needed a little human contact right now.

“Now this one is a bit flat - the sponges didn’t rise enough in the oven it would seem.”

Remus flinched and looked up. Yep, they had reached his. The seconds seemed to crawl by as they cut themselves a slice and finally they tried it.

“However it tastes very good, I particularly like the jam - blueberry, that's quite unusual.”

Remus finally let out the breath he was holding. He was going to be just fine.

“Okay Mr Lupin, stand right there, if you would.”

Remus adjusted himself to stand where the camera woman had pointed to and looked at her. “This okay?”

“That’s perfect Mr Lupin-”

“Just Remus, please.”

“Alright then Remus, I’m Marlene.” She reached over and shook his hand, her green eyes kind and an array of wild blonde curls piled on top of her head.

“So Remus, how are you feeling after today?”

“Um, I feel pretty good?” Remus said, laughing a little at himself when he phrased it like a question. “It’s really hard to tell - especially since this was the first time I’ve done this. It was good though, no matter what it was a great experience and meeting so many like minded people is pretty cool.”

“And what about your placement in the technical challenge? Third place? Not too shabby.”

Remus laughed properly at that. “Yeah, that was really great.”

“And how are you feeling overall?”

Remus tilted his head side to side in a ‘so-so’ gesture. “Alright. I’m excited but also nervous. I think today was the most exhilarating yet stress inducing day of my life.”

Marlene giggled. “Yeah I’m getting that impression. That was great Remus, you’re free to go.”

Remus’ shoulders slumped and he was surprised at himself, he hadn’t realised he had been that tense.

“Please tell me that I didn’t look like a deer in headlights.” He groaned, making Marlene laugh. “Nah, you’re good I promise, no deer here,” She paused, leaning in conspiratorially, “Except the deer that’s James’ screensaver, but shh, you didn’t hear that from me.”

Remus chuckled to himself all the way back to the hotel.

“Round two, here we go.” Lily said, rubbing her hands together eagerly as she and Remus walked into the tent together.

“Okay but, how weird is it that we have to wear the exact same outfit again today?” Remus asked.

“So weird.” Tonks replied, magically appearing at their side. “Usually at home I take off my clothes and fling them somewhere in my room but last night I had to consciously put them away together so I wouldn’t lose anything.”

Lily giggled and Tonks grinned at her. Remus was settling nicely into the sense of camaraderie that was forming in the tent. Being in a ‘Bake Off Bubble’ changed the dynamic to other years (not that Remus really knew what other years were like) but essentially living with the others was allowing for a nice bond to form between them all.

They chatted a little as everyone filed in and James and Sirius wandered over to them.

“Hey guys!” Tonks chirped and the two lads grinned.

“Ready for another day?” James asked, the question posed to the group, but his eyes were on Lily. Her cheeks flushed a little and Remus made a mental note to tease her about that later.

“As ready as we can be I suppose.” She said, fiddling with equipment that did not need organising. Remus met Sirius’ eyes and they both grinned and for a moment, just for a split second it felt like they knew each other, like they were friends and had jokes and shared secret knowing looks.

“Okay guys, let’s get going.” A producer called and it snapped Remus out of his thoughts. He and Tonks went to their own benches and Sirius and James walked to the front of the tent to stand next to the judges.

“Today, my lovely little bakers,” Sirius began dramatically, “We want you to bake a cake.”

“I think that’s a given, considering it’s cake week.” James chimed in and Sirius shushed him.

“Hush, let me finish. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” He said, glancing pointedly at James to the amusement of the rest of the tent, “Today we want you to bake a cake. But not just any cake,” He said grandly. “We want a cake with several tiers and three different flavours. Your cake can be decorated any way you like, however it has to represent something important to you.”

Remus wasn’t surprised. None of the bakers were - they were told about this challenge in advance so that they had time to prepare and practise. The challenge was being announced simply for the benefit of the audience.

“Ready?”

“Set.”

“Bake!”

Remus cracked his knuckles and set to work.

“Does three different types of chocolate count as three separate flavours?” Sirius asked him, standing on his tip-toes to peer over Remus’ shoulders.

“I sure as fucking well hope so, cause it’s too bloody late for me otherwise.” Remus mumbled, concentrating too hard to even register what Sirius was saying properly.

“Language Re, now we can’t use this footage.” He laughed, scuffing Remus’ shoe with his foot.

“Oh no, the nation won’t get to see a few more seconds of me stressed off my head, what a fucking pity.”

Remus didn't look up but he could practically hear Sirius’ eyebrows raising.

“Mr Lupin, what would the queen think of such appalling language?” He asked, pressing a hand over his heart. Remus did glance up this time, to shoot the presenter a dry smile.

“I’ll be sure to ask her, if I ever meet her.”

Sirius’s eyes lit up at the banter, and one part of Remus wanted to say ‘fuck this competition, just spend all your time here chatting to Sirius bloody Black’, but that part of him was very small and the urge to win was very very large, so instead, he let Sirius wander along to the other contestants and he set back to work.

His white chocolate and milk chocolate sponges were still in the oven, but Remus had taken out his dark chocolate layer. He set to work, cooling it and carefully cutting it in half, repeating the process with his other two cakes. Next, he carefully stacked all of the pieces on top of one another, spreading a thin layer of salted caramel icing in between each layer, leaving him with six tiers total. He took a moment to step back and roll out his shoulders quickly before continuing to give his muscles a quick break.

“All good Remus?” James asked and Remus smiled weakly. “Yeah, all good.”

He had his cakes stacked on the stand he would be presenting them on, and set to work carefully cutting off sections of the cake until he was left with a lovely sphere shape. Satisfied, he grabbed the bowl of icing he hand made, the salted caramel a pale yellow and Remus added just the tiniest hint of food dye so it had the faintest grey tint before spreading it liberally all over the cake.

“So Remus, might I ask what you’re making today?” Marlene asked, appearing by his side, camera braced on his shoulder.

“Um it’s supposed to be the moon actually.”

“Oh hey, I can kind of see that.”

“What? Only kind of? I’ve completely finished!”

A panicked look overtook Marlene’s features and Remus burst out laughing. “I’m only messing with you. I’m not done yet. I’m going to get to work doing all the craters and stuff now.”

Marlene looked at him, her face completely blank. “I feel like I should inform you that if it wouldn’t get me fired I’d totally kill you for giving me that heart attack.”

Remus stuck out his tongue playfully. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now leave me alone, I need to get back to work.”

“Yeah, you tell her Re!” Sirius enthused as he walked past, not even pausing in his path over to James and only having heard the tail end of the conversation. Marlene just rolled her eyes and followed him.

For the first challenge, the judges had come around to their benches. All of the cakes had been presented at once during the second. The third, Remus decided, was most certainly the worst, because you had to carry your cake all the way up to the judges and present it to them.

Remus really fucking hoped he didn’t trip.

“I must say, the detailing on this is quite nice.” McGonagall said, picking up a rather large knife and Remus smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

She cut right down the centre and Remus almost winced because he had worked so hard on that but these are the troubles when your artwork is edible.

Dumbledore looked at him curiously. “Are these just different flavours of chocolate.”

Remus pursed his lips. He had no idea if they hated it or not. “Yeah it is… I really like chocolate.” He added lamely and flushed a little at the chuckles that elicited from around the tent.

“Well Mr Lupin, I must say I’m rather impressed.” McGonagall said after trying it and Remus honestly thought he was going to cry with relief. One thing was for sure - the endorphin levels that being on this show elicited were on a whole other level.

He walked back to his bench, half in a daze, smiling at Lily who passed him on his way, her arms full with a cake decorated with the most realistic iced lilies he had ever seen.

“Remus? Are you ready for your interview?”

Remus looked up from the cup of tea he was nursing. “Yeah. Outside again?”

Marlene nodded and he followed her out, taking a deep breath of the clean country air.

Marlene signalled to indicate the camera was rolling. “So, you survived?” She said, her tone teasing.

Remus smiled. “I survived.” He confirmed. “I’m so, so delighted for Lily, she really deserved to get star baker.”

“So you weren’t disappointed?”

Remus laughed at the almost ludicrous question. “I’m still surprised that I made it here in the first place! I wasn't expecting star baker, I wasn't even aiming for it today, I just wanted to make it through the week.”

“And you did.”

“That I did.” Remus repeated, smiling warmly. Some guy, Caradoc, was going home. Remus had only spoken to him once so he couldn’t say he was all that torn up about it.

“This question is for a bit of voice over for the episode, alright?”

Remus nodded.

“Your cake was a moon, can you explain the significance of that?”

Remus sheepishly rubbed his hand over his face. “It seems kind of dumb now that I say it but, I used to be obsessed with the moon. Still am really, if I’m being perfectly honest. It got to the point where I now have the nickname of ‘Moony’.” He paused smiling as Marlene laughed. “But it just always made me calm. My mom and I used to drive to the beach in the evening just to watch the sun go down and the moon come up. It was great.”

Marlene smiled. “Perfect, that’s enough, thanks Remus.” She hit a button to stop the recording and Remus began to move away.

“So you’ve reason to stay another week anyways?” Marlene asked.

“Yeah.” Remus said, surprised to find his voice soft. He turned slightly and his eyes landed on Sirius walking out of the tent, pulling his hair out of the top-knot it had been styled in for the last two days. “Yeah, I think I do.”

#wolfstar #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin/Sirius Black #remus lupin x sirius black #bake off #bake off au #great british bake off #the great british bake off #tgbbo #James Potter #Lily Evans

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

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Written In The Stars CXII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I know you guys hate it but I love making Mel and Harry fight, huge ‘I’m-yelling-bc-I-love-you’ energy -Danny

Words: 4,093

Series’ Masterlist

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Listen to: ‘Worst In Me’ -by Julia Michaels.

Chapter Ten: Growing.

Turns out Umbridge was inspecting Trelawney's class, and if Mel could've graded the experience, she would've used a massive 'D'.

The girl paired up with Neville because she would often find herself chatting over Trelawney's orders whenever she and Ron shared a table. She didn't want that this time, and so she tried her best to focus on what she was doing with Neville. She was fearing that being in a different table, she wasn't going to be able to stop Harry if he tried to do something silly, the class went by with no accidents besides the fact that Trelawney could not do a prediction for Umbridge, which clearly made her fall a few points down.

Mel walked to her D.A.D.A. class with Neville, they talked about his new discoveries in herbology, she desperately needed to speak about some common silly nothings to remain sane, so when they entered the classroom, she hesitated a moment before finally deciding to sit next to the boy. They were a few tables behind Harry, Ron and Hermione. Mel felt a bit guilty about not making any real efforts to stay close to Harry, but she was feeling in a better mood now that she was having a normal day with a normal classmate.

"Wands away," Umbridge instructed. "As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."

Hermione raised her hand a few seats ahead, Umbridge got up from her place and walked up to hers, her usual terrifying smile plastered on her face.

"What is it this time, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read chapter two."

"Well then, proceed to chapter three."

"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."

"Well," Umbridge giggled. "Then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."

"He says that counterjinxes are improperly named. He says 'counterjinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable. But I disagree."

"You disagree?"

"Yes, I do. Mr Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, I'm afraid it is Mr Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."

"But —"

"That is enough. Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House."

"What for?" Harry asked angrily. Mel could see Hermione whisper something to him.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions. I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them — with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects — would have passed a Ministry inspection —"

"Why aren't we allowed to give our opinion? The teachers always encourage us to ask questions and be curious!" Mel blurted out, emboldened by the memory of her jobless uncle. "Was it really their way of working, or just your racist rubbish?"

"And Quirrell was a great teacher all right," said Harry right after her, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

There was a thick silence afterwards, Umbridge smiled a both, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr Potter," said Umbridge sweetly. "Miss Dumbledore, you may only speak when spoken to, or when you're granted the word. Otherwise, I'd recommend you to remain quiet. Sixty points from Gryffindor."

Mel entered the Great Hall fuming, she walked up to her table and saw Angelina, Professor McGonagall and Harry all arguing about something.

"I'm already being punished by her, why do you have to take points as well?" Harry asked in outrage. "Mel already lost sixty!"

"Shut up!" She hissed.

"Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!" Professor McGonagall looked at her in the same way. "Dumbledore told you to stay out of it, Miss Dumbledore, I see myself in the obligation to talk with the Headmaster about this! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team Captaincy!"

Angelina stormed out of the Hall, not without giving Harry one last nasty look.

"She's taken points off Gryffindor because I'm having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair, how?"

"I know, mate, she's bang out of order," Ron put extra bacon on Harry's plate.

"You disloyal twat!" Mel aggressively put down a jar of murtlap essence in front of Harry. "Now Dumbledore will lecture me again because you decided to rat me out!"

"Well it's true, isn't it?" He pointed to the jar. "What's that rubbish?"

"That rubbish is for your hand," She retorted in an awful mood, "put it on your bloody hand and it should heal right away."

The girl left without waiting for a reply, wanting to hex everyone. The fact that she'd spent twenty minutes of her breakfast hour doing the stupid essence now felt like a really dumb thing to do. She wondered why was she still trying to be nice when Harry didn't care, he knew that she could feel his pain and still decided to get another detention. Maybe they were better on their own, trying to remain as a team was starting to break them further apart.

Mel clenched her fists and continued until her feet took her to the only safe haven they could remember. The library was empty, no one had urgent schoolwork to finish being the second week of the trimester. She sat down at the very end, rubbing her temples and pondering on whether she should cry a bit to release some tension or go back to the Hall and have breakfast with Ginny when she heard the soft sound of footsteps.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?" asked a voice in amusement.

Erick stepped closer with a teasing glint in his eyes.

"You stood me up last Saturday. What now, you get a boyfriend and suddenly decide you no longer need friends? That's a bit–"

Mel didn't let him finish, she stood up and hugged him as tightly as she could.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you."

Erick froze, his arms hovering above her awkwardly. "I... I missed you too?"

Mel stepped back, quickly cleaning her face.

"Merlin's sake, you don't have to say it if you don't want to..."

"Sorry– it's just... That's the first time someone says that to me..." The last part came out barely above a whisper, Erick avoided her eyes.

"Well, it's true. This summer was a nightmare..."

"I know what you mean... at least a little. My grandad's been... not great," Erick glanced at the table and then her. "Every time I catch a glimpse of you, you're always grumpy..."

"It's the O.W.L.S, you know?"

"Sure, not like I've seen you argue with Potter," Erick smirked. "Want advice? Kiss him whenever he acts up, that'll shut him."

"That's out of the question," She sat down again. "We're not dating."

"What?" He exclaimed.

"Shh!" Mel looked around and then glared at him. "Sit down."

"I don't understand," Erick's frown deepened. "You two were so sickeningly happy and–"

"It was a mistake."

"What?" He asked again, this time laughing a little. "I'm sorry, but since when is dating your crush a mistake?"

"We didn't date," She retorted. "We... it blew up in our faces– Sit down, will you?"

"But what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Okay!" He huffed. "What do you want to talk about, then?"

"Why don't you tell me how's your Grandad?"

Erick's face did not tense at the mention, but it certainly grew worried.

"He's well enough... stayed with him the whole summer so I didn't write to Anne, in case you were wondering."

"Don't ask about Harry and I won't ask about Anne," Mel shrugged. "Seems fair."

Erick only looked more alarmed. "Seriously, what happened?"

"Erick," She said, "leave it."

"Are you at least going to tell me why'd you stood me up the other day?"

"I invited Hermione by mistake. I wanted to talk to you in private."

"Why?"

"Because Harry– well now I don't want to," She added when she saw the way he rolled his eyes. "I don't want to do anything. I don't even want to go to my next class..."

"Let me guess, because you'll have to see him and talk to him," He finally sat down, pondering for a moment. "All right, then get rid of him. Stop being his friend."

"I can't do that. Dumbledore's orders."

"He asked you to babysit?"

Mel nodded gloomily.

"Do you really have to be near him?"

"Well," She tilted her head. "I guess not... just when Umbridge's around."

"So just during her class?"

"Probably..."

"Okay, make sure he keeps his mouth shut for an hour or two and then you have the rest of the day free."

Mel thought about it for a second, then groaned in frustration.

"Knowing Harry, he'll find a way to run into her more times a day..."

"Potter's old enough to know better, don't you think?" Erick raised a brow. "Especially after what he went through..."

Annoyance flooded over her at the way Erick so casually mentioned Harry's close call. She clenched her jaw and shrugged. She didn't want to keep talking to him, being honest, she simply didn't want to talk to anyone at all.

"I'm tired," She muttered.

"I can't help with that, go take a nap," He sighed. "I'm sorry you didn't get the prefect badge, by the way..."

Mel laughed humorlessly.

"I don't care. Guess a part of me always knew Hermione would beat me."

"I really thought you'd be it," He replied. "Not that I don't think 'Mione's not smart or anything, it made sense, you and Harry..."

"Maybe Dumbledore thinks we have too much in our hands," She started to peel the corner of the table. "Or that we're out of control..."

"He certainly has reasons to believe it..."

"Did Parkinson and Malfoy report me?" She blurted out.

Erick frowned.

"What did you do now?"

Mel quickly told him about the incident, Erick found it extremely amusing.

"Had it coming, those idiots..." He admitted. "But you really shouldn't do that. Umbridge will take any opportunity to take you to her office and see if she can force you into confessing about the Order."

"Talking about that..." She moved so she was now facing him. "Are you part of it, then?"

"Not until I'm seventeen and out of school... I'm a very active intern for now."

"But do you want to be part of it?"

Erick didn't hesitate this time.

"I do. I won't be hiding behind my mother's skirt, once I'm out, I'll be out forever. My plan hasn't changed, I'll live with my Grandad and I'll help as much as I can."

"I'm proud of you, you know?" Mel smiled, her mood lifting with the passion he was letting out in every word.

"Shut up," He muttered.

"I mean it! You've come a long way. Remember my first year? You found me crying and told me to just give up on Hermione. Look at you now..."

"I'm still trying to convince you to give up on people," He moved on his chair awkwardly. "I told you this was my plan since the beginning, I'm just finally doing something about it."

"Yeah," Mel agreed, thinking that her own plan had been obliterated and now she was stuck in place. "I'm happy for you..."

"You know what? Take my advice. Keep Potter's mouth shut during class and we'll trust that he can find his way without you for the rest of the day. You need a break," Erick stood up, grabbing her bag and picking it up for her.

"Trust me," She sighed. "I know."

Mel stayed away from her friends for the rest of the day, and Harry found a way to get an extra day of detention during their Care of Magical creatures class -Umbridge had been there– but the girl persisted, she had lunch and dinner with Ginny and her friends, and she spent her free period with the twins and their friends.

When she entered the common room, she discovered that Harry wasn't there with Ron and Hermione, which explained why her right hand was starting to feel sore. She sat with a small smile playing on her lips, her day had improved after a whole afternoon without useless bickering.

"Is there any point on asking?" Hermione sighed.

"No," Mel said calmly, tunning out the pain on her hand.

Harry arrived close to midnight with his hand bleeding profusely, Mel made sure to write in a way that the darkness could hide her own bruised hand. Hermione handed him the murtlap jar Mel had left for him during breakfast.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron.

"No," said Harry.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew —"

"Yeah, she probably would. And how long d'you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

"She's an awful woman. Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison."

"No... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any defence from her at all," said Hermione.

"Well, what can we do about that? 'S too late, isn't it? She got the job, she's here to stay, Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well... You know, I was thinking today... I was thinking that — maybe the time's come when we should just — just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" said Harry.

Mel's hand stopped writing but she didn't look up.

"Well — learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Hermione.

"Come off it! You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week? And Mel's all right but I'm sure not even her can get past the stress!"

"But this is much more important than homework!"

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework," Ron teased.

"Don't be silly, of course there is! It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year —"

"We can't do much by ourselves, I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose —"

"If you're planning on reading just like you read in Umbridge class, then it won't change much," Mel said.

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books. We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"If you're talking about Lupin..."

"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin," said Hermione. "He's to busy with the Order and anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough."

"Who, then?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm talking about you and Mel, Harry."

"About me what?"

"What?" Mel laughed.

"I'm talking about you teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"That's an idea," Ron said calmly. "Mel could teach us, with her extra lessons and everything..."

"But... But I'm not a teacher, I can't —"

"You and Mel are the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione.

"Me?" said Harry, this time grinning. "No, I'm not, you and Mel have beaten me in every test —"

"Actually, I haven't. You beat me in our third year — the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Look what you've done! Look at what Mel can do!"

"How d'you mean?"

"You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," Ron said to Hermione with a smirk, then pretended to concentrate fully. "Let's think, uh... first year — you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who–"

"But that was luck, that wasn't skill —"

"Yeah, and Quirrell smashed my skull afterwards!"

"Second year," Ron insisted, "you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle, Harry."

"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up I —"

"Third year," Ron raised his voice, "Mel starts her private lessons with Dumbledore and she learns to do non-verbal spells as if they were as simple as a nap. Then you two fought off about a hundred dementors at once —"

"You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't —"

"Last year," Ron was practically yelling now. "Mel learned to fight off the Imperio curse in her first try and saw right through Moody before anyone else. You fought off You-Know-Who again—"

"Listen to me!" Ron and Hermione were both smirking now. "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck — I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help —"

"I had tons of help!" Mel exclaimed, finally finding her voice. "I read until I couldn't keep my eyes open– most of the things I know are all theory and no practice– don't smile at us like that! You know we're as close to being teachers as a bowtruckle!"

"Don't sit there like you know better than we do," Harry said heatedly. "I was there, wasn't I? I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right— or Mel lost control and it just happened to work out in our favour, but we just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing and Mel— STOP LAUGHING!"

Harry stood up menacingly, the jar falling off his hand and breaking into a bunch of sharp pieces. Hermione and Ron quickly lost their smiles.

"You don't know what it's like! You— neither of you— you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that, having to suck the life out of a someone in order to survive!" Mel's breath hitched, none of them had told the others what had happened last June. "And you two sit there acting like we're two clever little kids standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me if it weren't for Mel– it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me and I hadn't used Mel's—"

"Shut up!" She yelled, pulling him back because he'd gotten too close to their friends.

"We weren't saying anything like that," Ron said fearfully. "We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't — you've got the wrong end of the —" He stammered the rest under his breath, unable to end his sentence out of shock.

"You didn't sound understanding," Mel stated, dropping Harry's arm when he snatched it away. "It's never over, not like we lived through it and then just continued with our day... there's... we would always have..."

"Nightmares," Harry ended weakly.

"Guys," Hermione said quietly, "don't you see? This... this is exactly why we need you... We need to know what it's r-really like... facing him... facing V-Voldemort."

Mel would've been proud of Hermione, but she was still too agitated. However, Harry did react, he sat down again, though still breathing as he'd run for hours. A cramp ran down her hand in full force and she hissed. Harry frowned, noticing right away.

"I'm an idiot."

"I'm not going to argue you that," Mel scowled, holding her hand tightly. "I thought you'd be smarter, knowing what it does to me..."

"I don't mind being punished for telling the truth... but I don't want to drag you with me– I never wanted that," Harry sentenced.

Ron and Hermione stared at the both of them without really understanding what they meant.

"Well... think about it," said Hermione, glancing between the two. "Please?"

Harry nodded quietly, Mel hid her hand in her pocket and shrugged.

"Well, I'm off to bed," Their friend continued, still shaking. "Erm... 'night."

Ron got up too, he turned to look at Harry. "Coming?"

"Yeah," He said, looking down at the shattered glass. "In... in a minute. I'll just clear this up."

"I'll help..." Mel murmured.

When it was just the two of them, Mel crossed her arms and stared pointedly at him.

"Well?" She raised a brow. "I'm tired of being the one cleaning up your messes."

"I never asked–" He looked up at her and sighed, tired of fighting. "Doesn't matter... Reparo!"

The essence was gone, and she groaned thinking of how it was up to her to get more. She also knew that Harry needed to tend his hand now if she wanted to have a good sleep, so before he could leave she added:

"Sit," Mel grabbed her wand. "I'm going to mend you."

"I don't need–"

"I'm doing this for me," She showed him the purple bruise of thin letters that were forming on her skin. "You're still trying to cut out the lifeline? It's not working."

"Like you're doing any better," He hissed when she 'accidentally' pressed his wound.

"I'm not the problematic one, am I?"

Harry remained silent.

"That's what I thought," She healed the open cuts gradually. "Unlike you, I know how to stay out of trouble and I don't get as injured..."

"Well, it's not you the one people's been attacking–"

"It's not you either," She replied sharply. "People talk about you, but you're the one picking fights. The only person being attacked here is Dumbledore and I don't see him yelling at the rest of the staff."

"I don't see him talking to anyone but you, so that must be why," He said hastily.

"That's not my fault," Mel let go of his hand, it wasn't bleeding or inflamed, which was impressive considering it was her first time healing someone.

There was something bitter about the fact that holding his hand wasn't bringing her any kind of sweet emotion like it used to. She would still feel waves of affection, but those were dying quicker as time went by, something inside her was successfully pushing him out of her system, and she was starting to get used to it.

"If you're so desperate to talk to him then why don't you visit his office?"

Harry gave her a sour look, and she let out a dry laugh.

"You do want him to ask, don't you? See if he cares?"

"I think I'll go to bed now," He stood up.

"Suit yourself," Mel shrugged. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I thought you had done it for yourself," He replied sarcastically.

"I still made you a favour by doing so," She said. "You know, if you'd show a bit of gratitude instead of ignoring everyone that offers you help, people would–"

"THANK YOU!" He said rudely, his back turned to her as he left the common room.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @sarcasticallywitty15

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years

Text

On This Night and in This Light (3/3)

Emma Swan knows she’s pretty good at what she does.

Helping the magically afflicted and affected find jobs in this realm isn’t the most glamorous thing in the world, and, sure, there’s a lot of paperwork, but she figures she’s helping people and that’s the important thing. It’s structured. Calm, even.

Until. It’s always until.

Killian Jones shows up with his stupid smirk and his tendency to lean against the door frame in Emma’s office and his distinct lack of magic. Or knowledge of what they’re really doing at Mills Personnel. Everything kind of goes off the rails after that.

—-

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 6.5K of magic and eventual happily ever after

AN: There’s some magic here. Some kissing. Some curses. And happily ever after, of course. Thanks for reading along with this little distraction from the legitimate stress of the real world. You guys are all an absolute delight.

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll || Or start from the top

—-

“Are you good?” Tilting her head up to meet Killian’s vaguely crinkled forehead and passably confused expression, Emma almost regrets the question she didn’t plan on asking. That’s the problem with him. And them, at least in the abstract sense.

Words tumble out of her without much thought to their meaning or collective, if not slightly metaphorical, weight. Defenses she’s spent a lifetime cultivating feel as if they’ve crumbled at her feet, which is impressive since she’s laying down, but the metaphor still checks out and Emma keeps asking questions.

Without being wholly afraid of the answers she’ll get.

“Be more specific,” Killian murmurs, and her heart does something stupid. Skips a beat. Sparks her magic. Threatens to leave her glowing in the tangle of sheets she’s absolutely stolen in the middle of the night.

“Just—I mean with everything.” Nosing at her cheek, Emma can practically hear Killian’s smile. “‘Fraid that’s not any more specific, my love. But if we’re going to speak in the abstract before coffee—” “—Oh, we should make coffee.” He kisses her cheek, that time. “Then I am exceptionally good.” “Pretty vast adverb.”

“Well, you asked a very broad question. But I stand by my answer, particularly when you’re not wearing any clothing. Why, am I giving off not-good vibes?” “Maybe lame ones if you keep using the word vibe in actual conversation. I just—I don’t know, wanted to make sure, I guess. Working for Mills isn’t exactly the height of luxury and it can be a weird place, and I...we never really looked at apartments for you, because we can do that if you want to, but—” Stumbling over the words, Emma wishes her hands were free. She’d like to wave them around. Use them as a distraction to whatever has settled on her face and in the pit of her stomach, and this wasn’t really the plan. Granted, the plan occurred while she was overly exhausted and reeling a bit from rather large emotional realizations, but telling him the truth about absolutely everything is suddenly a bit more daunting in the light of day.

And they haven’t even had coffee yet.

Killian’s hand moves. Faster than Emma’s entirely ready for, his fingers brush a strand of wayward hair away from her eyes and then he’s kissing the bridge of her nose and pulling her against his chest and—

“This was not my plan. In some great expectation for my life, I’m not sure I could have ever imagined this is what it’d be like. But,” Killian adds, as soon as Emma’s magic shifts into something far closer to dread, “if all of this ended with your freakishly cold feet waking me up every morning, then I can’t be very upset about it.”

Swooning pre-coffee can’t be advisable. Emma’s heart doesn’t care. It flips and flops and does that possible explosion thing again, and she’s a little concerned the force of her smile will have adverse effects on the paint in her bedroom.

“You don’t think Mills is weird?” “Do you?” Emma shakes her head. “Nah, no questions for questions. This is—” “—An inquiry?” Her shoulders slump. Under the blankets, and she’s really got a shit ton of blankets. “I don’t know, Swan. Mills is...a place, a job. One where you work, and that’s mostly why I’m interested in continuing to work there. Should I not be thinking that?” The last few words come with a bit of understandable concern and maybe a hint of frustration, and she should have said something earlier.

It’s very frustrating to realize how much smarter the part-time cricket is than Emma.

She hopes he’s enjoying his job, too.

“My feet aren’t really that cold.”

Killian scoffs. “I promise, they are like little ice cubes attached to your legs.” “Lucky you’re here to provide external heat, then.”

Burrowing her face closer to the crook of his neck, Emma gives herself a moment to relish in that warmth, like he’s some sort of personal sun or a battery or another bit of science she doesn’t understand and David always likes to say that science is just explained magic. Emma wonders if it works the other way, too.

Magic is something that simply hasn’t been explained yet. No rational reasoning, or anything except the kind of gut feeling that can change everything.

“I am,” Killian says, and it probably isn’t meant to sound like a promise. “Are you good?” Dots of light appear behind Emma’s eyelids every time she blinks, trying to come up with an answer that won’t send him running and she doesn’t know what she’ll do if he runs. Energy prickles at the tips of her fingers, curling around either one of her wrists and lingering in the slight bend of her left elbow because at some point her left palm has flattened itself against Killian’s stomach. “Mills can be kind of weird,” Emma mutters, trying to pick her words more carefully now. “And that’s...there’s a reason for that, and a reason I started working there and—” A phone starts vibrating.

Loudly enough that it also immediately falls from the nightstand it was charging on, and keeps buzzing around on the floor. Killian sighs.

“Hold that thought.”

Emma wishes she could. But her hands are already back underneath the blankets, and she’s all too aware of how bright they’ve gone in the last few seconds and the state of Killian’s shoulders make it obvious he’s not all that pleased with whatever he’s being told. “Yeah, yeah, I can—I mean, it’s like twenty blocks the wrong way, but—God, yes, Scarlet. I can come back for a few minutes.”

He doesn’t bother to plug the phone back in, and for like a solid half second Emma gets distracted by the lack of clothes before her eyes fly up and Killian’s sighing again and the weight in the pit of her stomach grows.

“Coffee later?” Emma blinks. “Sure. Is everything ok?” “No idea, just that Scarlet said he had to talk to me and it couldn’t wait and—” Killian shrugs, fingers finding the back of his neck. “I probably won’t be that late, but if Regina asks—” “—I’ll tell her.” Something tugs at the back of her mind, a warning Emma can’t place, but she can sense a lie with almost startling accuracy and she knows Killian isn’t lying to her. She just can’t figure out why Will would lie to him.

Halloween’s not her favorite day.

People assume all magical and mythical creatures thrive on this one day of the year, but more often than not Emma finds that it’s just another busy day when those same magical and mythical creatures come out of the metaphorical woodwork in droves to get jobs. And sure, some of the rumors are true. There are certain times when the fabric between realms can be a bit more flimsy than usual. Both midnights, for example. Eleven-eleven’s another big one. So, teenage girls had that one right, at least.

And yeah, ok, Halloween also means Regina bakes half a dozen apple pies for the whole office, but when the whole office is already overrun by inquiring applicants, Emma can’t find it in herself to be very excited for a dessert she only kind of likes.

She’d never admit that to Regina.

Self-preservation instincts, and all that.

Plus, days like this are always cold. Fraught with that certain nip in the air, and leaves that crunch under Emma’s boots. Only to also get stuck to the bottom of Emma’s boots, and she has to twist her wrist to get rid of her leaf-based trail on her way to her paperwork-covered desk.

The same one David’s leaning against.

“You tell him yet?”

She missed one leaf. Figures. Emma never even went trick-or-treating as a kid. Halloween’s a sham. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.” “Sure you don’t. It’s dumb that you haven’t yet.” “Voice your opinion a little louder, please.” “Nothing is going to happen,” David says, but Emma barely hears over the sound of sudden and complete disagreement that scratches its way from the depths of her soul. Maybe Halloween makes her a little maudlin, actually. She can’t believe she didn’t get to tell him. “It hasn’t yet.” “Why are you jinxing things like that?” “There is no such thing as jinx, and c’mon, if you guys can get through today with a hundred magically unemployed people, then sky’s the limit.” “Not even clever.” David shakes his head. “You’re impressed and swayed, I know it. Plus it’s not like you’re a bad witch or anything.” “I’m sorry, a bad witch?” “Yeah, you know. None of your intentions, even when lying to the guy you’re stupid into—” “—Opinions keep coming fast and furious, don’t they?” “Because he’s right,” Ruby calls, twisting around desks to involve herself in a conversation Emma doesn’t want to participate in anymore. “You really didn’t tell him yet? That’s nuts. And you’re a good person, Em. With a very good looking face. Who wouldn’t want to make out with that? Ad nauseum.” “I’m going to be honest, using a word that sounds like nauseous isn’t helping your case much,” Emma says. “And I’m going to tell him. I am, just—things got crazy this morning.” Ruby howls. With laughter. Drawing more than a few curious stares, and rather pointed glare from Regina’s direction. David pales noticeably. “Did they?” Ruby presses. “How crazy are we talking and was it also vaguely acrobatic, because I feel like Jones could move if he had to, but that’s strictly theorizing on my part, so—” Sentences without end are quickly becoming Emma’s least favorite thing. Only slightly edging out ringing phones. The one on her desk lights up, which doesn’t happen very often, but she can’t imagine the light is supposed to be green.

David’s talking. She’s dimly aware of it — the soft hum that sounds more like Charlie Brown’s teacher than any of the human characteristics Emma is certain they both have, and that’s another quasi-Halloween reference. Rocks appear to have landed rather forcefully in her stomach, and that’s what she gets for optimism.

“Swan,” Killian breathes, as soon as she pulls the phone to her ear. “Swan, Emma listen to me, you can’t—” Seriously, the lack of sentence structure is becoming intolerable. Killian grunts, the sound turning into a gasp almost immediately and a few shouted no, no, no leave them alone and Emma doesn’t remember standing.

Only that she’s knocked her chair over in the process.

“Is this Ms. Swan?” a new voice Emma almost recognizes asks. “Because it seems I’ve got something of yours, while you have something I’m particularly interested in. Let’s make a little exchange, shall we?”

It’s disappointing that her mouth goes dry. Emma assumes that’s because she’s all but panting, bent awkwardly over her desk while her eyes scan the room for something or someone and—it clicks. The voice.

“Zelena. This is Zelena, isn't it?” Both David and Ruby make matching noises of disbelief, but the buzzing is back and Regina is moving and the line’s gone dead anyway. “She’s not supposed to be here,” Regina says with enough calm that it grates on every single one of Emma’s already-fraying nerves, “magical control sent her back to Oz.” Emma can’t cope with this. Any of it. All she wanted was to drink coffee with her decidedly human and very normal, if not ridiculously attractive boyfriend and they’ve never actually used relationship qualifiers.

That’s disappointing.

“Right, right, yeah, ok, of course” Emma mumbles, and she doesn’t bother to fix her chair. “Happy fucking Halloween, I guess.”

It takes her all of five minutes and one person dressed in costume to realize that running is absolutely and completely pointless.

Emma’s a goddamn witch.

And it’s raining.

Drops slide down her temples, drip down the back of her neck and work under her jacket because she never even got the chance to take her jacket off. Which is something of an exceptionally small miracle now, but she’s already cold and she’s always so fucking cold and—

He called her Emma.

He called her—

“My love,” she whispers, entirely to herself and that part isn’t really true. Shadows hover just outside the edge of her vision, what Emma knows are her friends waiting for instructions or a plan, and she’s got to come up with a plan and she doesn’t know where Belle and Will live.

She doesn’t have to.

Reaching her hand back, Emma’s fingers lace through Regina’s, and her soft instruction of “all instinctual,” doesn’t get lost in the hum of the city or the bustle of a holiday that requires masks and chocolate-based gluttony. It takes root. In Emma’s mind, and those same pieces of her soul, finds the tiny bits of space between her stomach rocks and spreads out from there.

Warming her from the inside out.

She closes her eyes.

“What the fucking fuck?” Will shouts, Emma’s feet slamming into hardwood floor that was probably highlighted in this apartment listing. Eyes bugging, he’s plastered to the wall opposite her, and Emma’s pleasantly surprised to find he’s not gagged, but she also kind of figures it’s because Belle is and there’s something inherently villainous about allowing the love interest to make noise while their partner is being tortured.

By a woman wearing a pointed witch’s hat. “Kind of cliché, isn’t it?” Ruby muses, and Emma’s not surprised they’ve started their rescue mission with sarcasm. She also can’t respond. Her eyes are too busy trying to take in the scene.

Stacks of books litter the floor, half the living room furniture on its side as if it’s been knocked over in a fit of inevitably-magical rage, and Belle doesn’t look as scared as annoyed that she’s been bound in one of the few upright chairs. Emma’s heart stutters. Catching her breath is impossible, head on a swivel as she tries to find—

“Killian,” she exhales, and he’s not gagged either. No visible restraints keep him a few feet away from Will, but Emma can feel the magic rippling off him and it smells strongly of bitter lemons. Or expired key lime pie.

Neither of those things are inherently Halloween, or all that magical. But then Zelena’s turning slowly and the green splotches on her face ensure any attempts at passably funny metaphors or desperate attempts to maintain her sense of reality disappear.

“Huh,” David says, “that’s new, actually. We ever see anyone change color before?”

Regina clicks her tongue. “She’s not changing color. She’s giving in.” “To what, exactly?” “Jealousy. Isn’t that right, Zelena? Been the crux of the problem forever, hasn’t it?”

Emma’s head is spinning. She’s not moving. “Wait, wait, what the fuck is going on?” One side of Killian’s mouth tugs up, amusement in his gaze and that can’t possibly be right. “You are stuck to the wall, idiot!’ “Oh, Swan, you do know how to flatter a man.” “What is happening?” He can’t shrug, but Emma knows he tries and that should not be as charming as it is. Mary Margaret squeezes her hand. The one that’s almost neon. “Turns out Scarlet didn’t actually want to talk to me this morning. We definitely could have had coffee.” “Is that a euphemism for—” Ruby starts, only to snap her jaw closed when Regina gapes at her. Emma’s starting to lose feeling in her fingers.

And she sees the exact moment any sense of teasing and entirely false bravado leaves Killian. Lips going thin, his shoulders still don’t move, but Emma swears his fear reverberates through her and that’s not the emotion she was interested in sharing that morning. “You’ve got to get out of here, love. Now, it’s—” Zelena’s hand moves so quickly, it’s not much more than a passably-green blur. Nothing else comes out of Killian’s mouth. His jaw moves, working against a shield none of them can see, and Emma’s stomach is somewhere in the vicinity of her throat.

Even with all those rocks.

“How did you get back here?” Regina asks, stepping towards the front of their ragtag group. Fire bursts from her hands, flames that flicker up her forearms and draw another grunt out of Will. Whether it’s surprise or just the generic sound of being impressed, Emma’s not sure.

Bits of green cling to the end of Zelena’s mouth when she smiles. “Shall I start at the beginning, then?” “God yes, please,” Emma sighs.

Zelena doesn’t take her hat off. Really, she’s almost making it work for her. As far as costumes go, this one’s kind of basic, but there’s no cape or a broomstick and Emma’s never met a witch who was interested in flying a broom anywhere.

“Wanted to stay conspicuous, you understand,” Zelena says, “Draw too much attention to myself and—ah, well, that’s not what’s important now.” “What?” “Why you, Emma Swan. Obviously.” “This isn’t the beginning,” David mumbles, and both Emma and Regina shift before Zelena can so much as lift her chin. One of the windows on a different wall flies open, half a dozen pigeons descending on the living room and nipping at the ends of Zelena’s hair. They pull on the sides of her dress and peck at the green spots that are growing on her cheeks.

Whistling, Mary Margaret jerks her head and the pigeons fly away, looking a little like an avian synchronized swimming team. “Leave him alone.”

“Shit,” Ruby says, “that was impressive and aggressive. Ignore the rhyme.”

Emma tilts her head. “Slant rhyme, right? Can’t rhyme matching sounds.” Someone makes a noise — it comes from the general direction of Killian and Will, but it can’t be Killian and Emma wants it to be him anyway. Zelena doesn’t look very impressed with any of them. That’s fair, it’s probably frustrating to have your monologue interrupted so often.

“If you don’t mind,” she sneers, Emma waving her free hand like she’s capable of giving the bad guy permission to keep talking. “It had been quite some time since I’d been in this realm, and plenty of things had changed. More magic, a certain kind of power that hung in the air. Energy that could change the course of everything, strong enough that it could probably rewrite time itself if it wanted to. And I want it to.” “To what?” “Were you not listening? Rewrite time.”

Breathing out of her mouth is not attractive. It’s loud and makes Emma’s tongue feel larger than it actually is, especially when she has to keep using it to lick her lips. “That’s—that’s insane. You’re insane. You didn’t just want to get a normal job? I mean...you were at Mills. I saw you.” “Power of the Universe at my fingertips and you think I’d be satisfied with a normal job? No wonder you have no idea what you are. Which,” Zelena glances meaningfully at Killian, “means you, Emma Swan, are the reason I’m here.” “Speak English!” Zelena huffs. “I am. What I felt when I returned to this realm? It was you, my dear. Your power, your magic, your ability. And, yes, I could have given into the hum-drum existence of this place and the structure of Mills Personnel, but where exactly is the fun in that?”

Emma hopes she’s not expected to answer. She doesn’t have one. It’s entirely possible she’s going to snap several of Mary Margaret’s fingers in half.

“Anyway,” Zelena continues, “locating that power wasn’t easy, but Regina Mills’ ability to make things happen is legendary. Finding a person’s niche, that’s her greatest talent. And so I did come to Mills, looking for a position that would help me get the rest of the requirements.”

Ruby keeps shaking her head. Emma can’t seem to move. Or breathe. Her eyes keep darting back towards Killian, trying to make sure he’s breathing or reacting in a way that doesn’t threaten to make her cry. Nothing.

He’s plastered to a wall with magic, of course not.

“You see, a time spell is one of the more complex out there. Need all sorts of things in addition to the kind of magic that can fuel it. Which is what I wanted when I got to Mills. Hoped I could get placed in a hospital or something of the sort.”

On the increasingly small scale of things that surprise Emma, that somehow makes the cut. “You need, like, an IV drip or something?” “A baby,” Zelena replies easily, and Belle whimpers against the gag. “Pure of spirit, you understand. Other things too. Courage, wisdom, maybe a heart if I could get lucky—” “—An actual heart?” Will balks. “Spend a lot of time in Wonderland, did ya?” “I mean, she could probably get the heart in the hospital too if she wasn’t picky about her choices,” Ruby reasons, and this whole thing is absurd. Maybe that’s the theme for Halloween as a whole, though.

More of Zelena’s face is green.

“I had hoped I’d get someone competent who could help me. Or even the source of the power. Naturally,” she jerks her head in Killian’s direction, “I ended up with this sot. Who suggested working at a clinic or agreeing to something called an orderly position. Well, I knew he wouldn’t help me, but I did get something out of it. I knew you were there, Emma. And—” Zelena’s eyes rove towards Belle, and the hands collapsed over the front of her stomach. Realization crashes over Emma in waves, the rocks disappearing only to be replaced with a bone-deep chill that douses any bit of light in her. “So I do have a few options for you all now.” “What are you trying to fix?” “Hmm?” “Fix,” Emma repeats, “or change, I guess. I mean—that’s not how life works.” Zelena hums in what can only be passing interest and something almost like an agreement. “Seems unnecessary to tell you my whole plan, but when it works it won’t make much of a difference. I want to get rid of the girl. That nasty little thing that fell in Oz and ruined everything. Robbed me of my chance to prove myself, claimed there had to be good witches and bad witches and you’re absolutely right, Ms. Swan. That’s not how life works. Nothing is quite so cut and dry as all that.”

Words hang off the tip of her disgustingly dry tongue. Want to be said and proclaimed, and for all the mistakes Emma has made — good and bad, right and wrong, trusting and the opposite, she’s happy to find she’s not particularly interested in changing them.

Not if she ends up here.

Well, maybe not here—with her boyfriend, they’ll get to that eventually, magically silenced and Belle doing her best to glare daggers at the half-green witch who commandeered her living room, and Ruby’s teeth are definitely getting longer. But maybe here-adjacent. With people who care about her, who followed her without question or thought and the guy who is still somehow staring at Emma like he’s got every intention of keeping her feet warm.

Ad nauseum.

“I’m not really interested in anything you need.”

Disappointment flashes across Zelena’s face, only to immediately morph into something much closer to fury. “Hero types, always so sanctimonious. That’s why I said several options. It’s one now, but—” Flicking her wrist, Killian slides down the wall in what Emma knows isn’t actually slow motion. Still, the amount of time it takes for his knees to crash to the ground seems to last forever and Zelena doesn’t try to stop Emma from rushing forward.

Eventually, she’ll realize why.

“Regina discovered what I was trying to do,” Zelena explains, “my fault. Kept coming back to Mills, demanding better placement and as much as it pains me to admit she’s smart...well, she sent me back to Oz.” “So how are you here?” Mary Margaret demands.

Emma doesn’t need that answer, either. Halloween is a bullshit, overrated holiday. Pulling Killian close to her, he’s far too limp and impossibly silent, and Emma barely spends a moment thinking about either of those things before she’s kissing anywhere she can reach, mumbling apologies and half-explanations into his skin and—

“Ah, I’d be careful if I were you,” Zelena says, a soft lilt to her voice that rattles down Emma’s spine. “See, your option is to give me your magic, Ms. Swan. If you won’t do it willingly, I’ll take it by force.” “I don’t—”

Movement catches Emma’s attention, the soft flutter of fingers across her back and she has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. At first. All it takes is a few seconds, and that’s probably another sign. She hopes so. Tracing letters on her jacket, Killian’s eyes flutter shut like he’s exhausted and determined not to sleep and— “No,” Emma exhales, but Zelena’s smile looks victorious. It’s too late. They’re too late. And there’s nothing they can do to change that.

Slumping against her, Killian’s eyes don’t open again. His breathing evens out, and Emma supposes that’s something of a very twisted victory because he isn’t dead, but he’s even more obviously sleeping and sleeping curses are notoriously hard to break.

“Especially when they so often require a kiss,” Zelena grins. “True Love, and all that. So let me ask, Ms. Swan. Do you think what you and the plebe have is True Love and, more importantly, will you be willing to sacrifice your magic for it? Because the only way he’s waking up is with a kiss and the next time you kiss him, you’ll lose your magic.”

To suggest that it kind of all goes to shit after that is something of an understatement.

Light pours out of Emma, unsteady legs under her even as she juts her chin out. To her credit Zelena doesn’t back down. She stands there and she turns a bit more green, and magic is so goddamn weird. Emma’s also never been in a magic fight before.

Spending so long hiding that part of her — certain it was going to be the reason everyone left, the opportunity never really presented itself. Fighting for the sanctity of time itself and Killian’s consciousness seems as good a reason as any to flip the script, so to speak.

Heat races through Emma, wind swirling at her ankles as frames clatter to the ground. Shards of glass fly on the manufactured breeze, Mary Margaret darting towards Belle and David sprinting towards Will, and it’s something of a confidence boost when they’re both able to pull them away from the battle.

Although Emma can’t really believe she thought the word battle, even in her head.

“Not exactly the magical dominance you were bragging about, huh?” Emma quips, twirling a finger in the air. Bands of light circle Zelena’s calves, twist up her legs and turn her answering laugh into a gasp that also does dangerous things to Emma’s ego.

“I never—” Zelena grunts, twisting against bonds that don’t even flicker. “—You were the powerful one, I thought I made that blatantly obvious.” “I mean,” David shrugs.

Ruby nods. “She did kind of, Em. That’s true.” “Whose side are you on?” Emma snaps, but the retreat back to absurd is almost comforting in a familiar, banter-filled sort of way.

“Please,” Regina sighs. Her hands are on fire. “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, and I know you claimed you didn’t have to tell Killian the truth before.” “Yeah, well, cat’s pretty much out of the bag on that front, don’t you think?” “Flew out on pigeon’s wings, I think.”

Laughter has no place in a moment when Zelena’s entire face has turned green, and her own fireballs are threatening at her palms, but Emma can’t help herself and maybe the dumbest thing she’s ever done was suggest Killian shouldn’t have worked at Mills. Or that she couldn’t be head over heels in love with him.

That helps, honestly.

“You’re not getting my magic,” Emma announces, all too sure she sounds as ridiculous as she feels. Heroic soliloquies are also overrated, it seems. “And you’re not getting Killian or—God, were we actually talking about Dorothy that whole time?” Zelena snarls. That must be the response.

“Well, you’re not getting her either. Sneaking back here on Halloween was dumb. Trying any of this was ridiculous and threatening Killian was the worst of all your ideas. Because—” Emma takes a step forward. Nothing shakes. If anything her knees almost lock out, the hair falling over her shoulders noticeably brighter than usual and Zelena recoils. Seriously, her confidence is through the roof. “Magical job placement might be boring, and it might have a shit ton of paperwork, but it’s also a chance to help people and that’s...that’s the point, isn’t it? Finding that sense of belonging? Giving a person a chance. Being able to—” “—Fall in love,” Mary Margaret cries, scrunching her nose when Regina and Ruby shush her. “I mean…that’s what it is, isn’t it? Love’s not a weapon. It makes Emma glow.” And that makes Emma curse. “Maybe we phrase it differently?”

“Maybe we worry about language once we actually defeat the witch, huh?” Regina challenges, and that seems like a legitimate plan.

Balls of fire fly through the air. Ricochet off Emma’s lights, and every window flies open as Mary Margaret calls upon not only pigeons but what look like several sparrows and a few nightingales if the sounds they’re making is any indication. Leaves swirl around the room, partially from the actual wind and also from whatever Emma is apparently capable of.

A lot more than she thought, honestly.

Warmth rises in her spine, sets her shoulders in a straight and determined line and she gives Will an appreciative smile when he pulls Killian out of the fray. Only to immediately jump back in, ducking and twisting and there’s a lot more cardio involved than she thought, but then a flash of magic nearly singes her ear and Emma’s thankful for her own agility.

She moves. Refuses to back down, ignoring the growing ache in her muscles and the weird popping thing her hip is doing. And Zelena starts to cower. In an especially villain-type of way.

Backing into the nearest wall, she stumbles over her feet as light tightens around her. It pins her arms to her side, curls around her ankles and guarantees she can’t run away when Emma stalks forward.

With a smile on her face.

Oz authorities appear at eleven-eleven, which seems to suggest it is somehow still morning and Emma cannot rationalize that at all.

They thank Emma for containing the fugitive, nod towards Regina and well—that’s that. Leaving the rest of them in a slightly singed apartment with pillows that somehow haven’t burst, and what feels like a distinct lack of oxygen.

“So,” Will drawls, “what do we do now?” He doesn’t have to look at Killian. The still-sleeping form is the far-more-attractive-than-an-elephant elephant in the room, draped across a couch that David had to lift on his own. One of his feet is hanging over the side. “True Love’s Kiss isn’t a real thing,” Emma whispers, but the words taste like ash on her tongue and Regina makes a very obnoxious noise.

“Dumb, dumb, dumb.” “Do you think I’ll lose my magic?” “Do you actually care?” Shaking her head, Emma doesn’t bother saying the words. Not when she knows they’re so obviously painted on her face and sudden realization is almost as annoying as not ending sentences. She knows what he was tracing on her back.

Maybe she is the idiot, actually.

And for a moment, Emma’s mind falters. Remembers that other moment, standing frozen as a different set of lights threatened to blind her and metal snapped around her wrists and she’d been so certain then. Never again. Nothing else would get through the defenses. No one else would know. No more mistakes.

This isn’t a mistake.

Careful to avoid the glass on the floor, Emma tiptoes forward and crouches next to Killian. She brushes her fingers over that scar on his cheek, the ends of lips that are somehow still tilted up into half a smirk and—

“God, just do it already,” Belle shouts.

That’s that, again.

Kissing at this angle isn’t particularly easy, and Emma’s knees aren’t particularly pleased with the amount of pressure she’s putting on them, but it does allow her to basically drape herself across Killian and that also makes it easier to get her hand under the hem of his shirt. And nothing else really happens.

No sharp inhale. No tilt of his head. Absolutely no sign of his tongue, which Emma has come to find herself almost obsessed with in the last few months. She doesn’t care. Doesn’t allow herself to stop, not when there’s a flicker of hope and all that want simmering between her ribs, mixing with her magic and how ridiculously in love she is and it’s annoying that she’s the one who gasps.

As soon as arms circle her waist.

Emma can’t really tumble when she’s above him, but the edge of the couch digs into her thighs and Killian’s doing an admirable job of trying to get her parallel to the rest of his body. Her fingers find his hair when he arches up, his own hand roving the expanse of her back before his arm curls tightly around her like he’s trying to make sure she’s still there. Leaning into her palm against his chin, Killian’s lips drag across the back of Emma’s wrist, sparking another round of magic and even more glowing. “Oh shit,” Emma mumbles, not able to pull herself away from Killian. Because of his arm. And...other reasons.

“Was that a response to me, or—” “—No, no, I just—well, there’s still magic. I’ve still got magic. And, uh, I’m a witch.” He laughs. Throws his head back and lets his body shake under her, which really isn’t helping Emma’s state of mind at all, but she’s admittedly preoccupied with the overall volume of the laugh and how wide his smile is. “Swan, Emma love, did you honestly think I didn’t know?”

She—

Has absolutely no idea what to do with that.

Ruby might fall over. Regina’s eyes bug, Mary Margaret using David to stay upright, Belle covers her mouth with her hand, Will cackling loud enough for the both of them.

“Did you,” Emma starts, but Belle and Will shake their heads and Killian’s tongue click is awfully put-upon for a guy who was just cursed.

He taps on her jaw until she’s able to look at him. And his stupid blue eyes. “I could feel it, love. Also you have a tendency to...glow. Which I'm assuming is a compliment, for me. Or us. There's an us, right?" She nods. Can't do much else. "And you’re not very subtle. Extra cinnamon in the cabinets, moving the remote so I don’t have to look for it. Working at a job placement agency that helps the magically afflicted. Plus there was paperwork. Was Freddie really a gold statue at one point?” “Yeah, but they un-statue’ed him with water from Lake Nostos. Not True Love’s Kiss.” “So we won, then?” “Competitive weirdo.” “Absolutely,” Killian nods. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I figured you’d get around to it at some point and then you were talking today and—” “—We’re not such shitty friends that we’d demand Killian show up back here before nine,” Will reasons. “Plus, it’s been kind of nice to have a free couch.”

Killian gags. “Did I say congratulations yet?” “We were busy.” “Wait, wait,” Emma sputters, and she’s going to go into cardiac arrest. Or magic overload. “So this whole time. You knew.” “Well, not the whole time,” Killian objects. “Most of it though, yeah.” “But you’re still here.” “Where else did you expect me to go? Aside from your apartment now that we’ve defeated the wicked witch? I’m assuming we defeated the wicked witch.” Emma nods. “Well, then I’ll apologize for drawing you into that, too. She was half the reason I started to suspect anything, honestly. Told Regina about her and the last thing I expected when I got here was to see her, or to have her demand I get you here. I tried to avoid that.” More nodding. More aching muscles and poorly performing hearts, and Emma wouldn’t mind if Killian traced several other sentiments into a variety of different areas, but they’ve got an audience and a pregnant lady and they never did get coffee. So, it makes sense to ignore that for a second. Or several.

“I love you,” she says instead. Shouts, really. “More than I realized I could and I—” Any other words get lost in the feel of Killian’s mouth on hers and the ability of his tongue to incite butterflies in her stomach, and she hardly hears him say I love you back. It doesn’t matter. She hears it on loop for the rest of the day, once they’re ushered unceremoniously out of Belle and Will’s apartment. Neither of them think much about getting coffee.

And she’s just on the cusp of sleep, eyelashes fluttering and blankets halfway to stolen when Emma hears something else. Pressed into that one spot below her ear.

“I’ve got no intention of leaving,” Killian whispers, “not because of the magic or the power that comes with it, only because I love you. A ridiculous amount, honestly.”

Sleep seems kind of pointless after that.

He decides to leave Mills, eventually.

“I don’t have magic,” Killian rationalizes, and Emma supposes that makes sense. “But I will need some help finding a job.”

Sliding a file with his name written in swirling script across her desk, he’s got the gall to smirk at her and Emma resists the urge to magic him into her chair. “Luckily I do have other skills, including a job offer—” “—If you’ve got a job offer, you don’t really need my help.” “Yeah, but you’re very pretty and I hear you’re real good at what you do.” “Which is?” “Moving in with me,” Killian says, which isn’t the last thing she expects but it still manages to catch her off guard. Lights erupt at the end of several strands of hair. “The reaction I was going for, absolutely.” “No, no, that’s—that’s dumb.” “Is it?” “I was going to ask you to move in with me. First.” “Competitive weirdo.” “I have an apartment,” Emma argues. “With laundry on site.” “Ah, yeah, that is a marker in the pro column. Plus, you’ll be there right?” “In my apartment? Yeah, probably,”

Pushing back on the chair he’d never really been sitting in, Killian leans across Emma’s desk. To kiss her. Hard. Magic flares in the air around them, causing bulbs to flicker and more than a few cries of get a room . “What I’m trying to do,” Killian mumbles. “If you’re asking me to move in, Swan, I’m going to accept.” “Make it sound less like a warning next time.”

He chuckles against her mouth, either ignoring the desk that must be pressing into his stomach or not bothered by it at all, and Emma tries not to throw herself at him too quickly when he brings a whole box of recently-bought blankets with him.

“So you don’t get cold, love.”

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #on this night and in this light #MAGIC BATTLES #MORE KISSING #MAGIC BATTLES WHILE FLIRTING

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kingofthecon · 3 years

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@femmechanceux

#1 "You know what rhymes with Bugaboo? Me and you." It was a pretty boring night of patrolling so naturally Chat Noir decided to fill the air with anything and everything just to keep them both entertained. His vibrant green eyes focused more on the task at hand - keeping an out for trouble - than they did on his partner, but when his eyes did meet her form for an extended period of time he couldn't help but grin. Running around Paris late at night with a lovely lady by his side helped him to forget about his life outside of costume. It helped his mind come up with all sorts of entertaining ideas which drove away all the reality shattering ones that came with common sense - one of the recent things being what'd happen when they finally defeated Hawk Moth. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that one day they would actually catch Hawk Moth slipping and manage to not only take him down and retrieve his Miraculous, but also learn his identity and lock him away forever, but what would come next? They wouldn't be able to keep their Miraculous anymore, would they? Sure there would still be crime left in Paris, but that could be handled by the officers of the law instead of vigilantes like them. What did that mean for his friendship with Ladybug? Would they just...no longer be able to see each other? No, that was stupid. Ladybug might not be interested in him because of her crush on someone from her life outside of the mask, but that didn't mean they couldn’t be friends. They'd make a way. "It's been a lot of times recently where it's just been me and you, and though I do love spending quality time with my leading lady, I can't help but wonder when the ball's going to drop. I don't want to jinx it, but the last time we found someone who was akumatized it was Mr. Pigeon and that was nearly a month ago." He had most certainly been keep tracking. Between the photo shoots, collabs, and interviews along with school, his fencing class, and a few side activities, there wasn't much of any activity from Hawk Moth. He doubted the man had suddenly fallen off the face of the Earth, but there had to be something at play. Then again his sidekick, Mayura, had been hurt in her last confrontation with the rest of them. Maybe the two of them were an evil couple and Mothy had to take some time out of his akumatizing schedule to take care of her? It was sweet even though they were both evil - taking joy in turning people into their minions all in a vain attempt to get the Cat and Ladybug Miraculous. Then again, what if her sickness was the reason why Hawk Moth was trying so hard? Maybe the reason they'd shown their costumed faces was because of desperation, and Hawk Moth had gotten a mad power-up from her to boot. She hadn't been in the game until recently so maybe that was it? It was something he'd been speculating on a while now, but hadn't had enough evidence to support this theory which meant he hadn't said anything to Ladybug about it. He probably should at some point, but not even now seemed like a good time. "He's too annoying to just give up and go on vacation, so maybe he's wrapped up in some supervillain HR meeting where they talk about their failures and how to go about achieving their goals while eating muffins from the cafeteria." It was random and probably outlandish. The goal was to make her laugh, especially when he was about to say something that might cause a bit of an issue between them. Yeah, butter her up before telling her that he won't be around for a little while because a friend of his father had done some contest and had picked three kids from nowhere to take on as apprentices or something and Adrien would be with them for a while. It was just a publicity stunt and collaboration thing, but it was an extra added activity and with everything else he had to do something needed to be cut out, and it wasn't like Ladybug only had him to rely on considering she could dish out the Miraculous to other people. It would be fine. "I don't think there's any crime afoot tonight," he offered teasingly after they stopped near the Louvre for a break. He stretched both arms over his head and yawned before flopping down in a cross legged position. "Which is convenient because...well, I won't be uh, be around for the next few weeks at least." Best to just rip off the bandage. "My family is going to be particularly busy and I won't be able to get out of certain obligations so if there's an emergency you'll have to get one of the others. I'll try to sneak away, but you'll have to treat any threat that might crop up like one that I won't be able to help you fight in." Just saying that made him feel like crap. If an emergency came up and someone got hurt because he prioritized taking pictures with some contest winners over fighting crime then he would have to live with that guilt, but his father would be watching and if he even tried to get out of something like that the consequences would make him being Chat Noir period even harder when things weren't incredibly busy. If he wanted to keep being being a hero then he was going to have to do whatever it took to keep his father off his case. This was one of those situations where there were no good options to take. "I'd better head home. I have to wake up early. Well, earlier than usual." He turned back the way they'd come, which was in the opposite direction of his home actually, and ran off. He was out of his lady's sight he changed the direction and took a different route home. He de-transformed, fed Plagg a few pieces of Camembert and raced the rest of his way home - entering through the front gates and not stopping until he was in his room.

"Okay Sixer, how'd this happen?" Triplets Stanton, Stanford, and Stanley sat in their shared bedroom - Stanley and Stanton; or Shermie as he liked to be called - sitting on either side of their brother Stanford as he read the letter in his hand for the fourth time in silence. There had been a bit of a contest months ago created by a man named William Chiffrer. He was looking for individuals with a wide variety of talents that ranged from athleticism to intellect. Stanford had of course sent filled out the necessary forms on top of going above and being by writing an entire essay about why he believed he should be chosen...he'd also sent out the necessary forms for his siblings and tricked each of them into writing a bit of an essay of their own. He didn't think any of them would be accepted. William was a man of many talents, but what had caught Stanford's attention was the man's intellect. William had the ability to create his own language - something that he and his siblings had done when they were younger...little ciphers that only they could understand, but William? As far as Stanford knew the man had at least three different languages of his own under his belt, a company that didn't seem tethered to him, and ideas of deep sea and space exploration that he had no qualms with sharing to the masses. In other words, the man was an actual genius who had absolutely no problem flaunting it. Stanford was envious, intrigued and well, William was his idol. That meant he wanted to learn from him and this contest? This contest would be his one shot. He, however, didn't want to go in alone. The sound of someone playing with a paddle ball close to his face caused him to jerk to attention. His eyes traveled to his left where he saw Stanley, the sibling that was identical to him minus the fingers, waiting impatiently for an answer. To Stanford's right his slightly older fraternal sibling looked unimpressed already having an idea of what'd taken place though the chances of all three of them being picked was...highly unlikely. "It's not that difficult to understand," the middle triplet said as he pushed himself off the bed and paced the center of their bedroom floor. "More so, improbable. The chances of the three of us getting chosen for this opportunity of a life time is simply astronomical. It's--" "Not the question, Poindexter. Sherm and I didn't enter this sleaze ball's contest. I know I suck at math, but I'm at least a hundred percent sure that us not enterin’ means we both hadda zero percent chance'o winnin' anything. Howzat possible, I wonder." One look at his brothers had rooted to the spot - both hands behind his back as his started to get nervous. Stanley continued to play with his paddle ball, but his attention remained on Stanford while Shermie let out and exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry! I don't know what I was thinking. Well, of course I know what I was thinking. It would be incredible to have William Chiffrer as a mentor. His vast knowledge of the world and its inner workings - despite being quite controversial - has merit and have been shown to be more than just plausible. This man has plans to change the world and the means to do it and it would be remiss of me to pass up the opportunity to work under the man himself. I just did not wish to go alone so I took the liberty of signing contest forms for the both of you while feeding you false information about an extra credit essay where you had to convince the President of the United States of why you would be a great addition to the White House." "Wait, that's not what you told me," Stanley said with narrowed eyes while slowly lowering the paddle ball. "Errhm, yes well, you having to convince a potential suitor's father of why he should let you date his daughter seemed more plausible than the Presidential angle, I'm afraid. Now, even if only one of us came out victorious in this raffle the winner is permitted a plus one! Had either of you won instead I would have hoped that you'd allow me to tag along." "And yet Pa calls me the shyster. I am so proud of you.” Stanley wipes an imaginary tear from his eye while Stanford glares at him before turning his attention towards Shermie who’d finally lifted his head. His expression was exasperated yet thoughtful making it clear that he, at least, wasn’t going to make such a huge deal of out it. Between Stanley and Shermie, the latter was much more academically inclined and when opportunity struck he tended to let it in and treat it like a friend. Paris, France was a place that these three boys from New Jersey would never in their wildest dreams imagine being able to visit - not with how much of a penny-pincher their father was. For a while all there had only been a pair of glasses between them which Stanley and Shermie had agreed to let Ford have indefinitely. ”This is a once in a life time ordeal, isn’t it?” Shermie questioned after letting the silence linger. They were teenagers with no real funds to their name. If they went to college it would have to be on a scholarship - Stanford had at least four lined up, Stanley could possibly go for football, and Shermie had his hands in a little bit of everything. Other than that, there was nothing for fancy trips to far off lands like France, so right here? Right now? Yeah, it definitely seemed as though this was going to be one of those once in a lifetime deals. The brothers looked at each other, Stanley sliding off the bed to punch Stanford in the arm before leaning against his shoulder while Shermie continued thinking. Finally he stood up and crossed his arms. "That was an underhanded trick you pulled Ford, but I can't say that I blame you and a trip to freaking France? The City of Love? We'd have to be crazy to pass up the opportunity." "Ugh, love," Stanley griped, immediately turning sour causing Shermie to look a little guilty while Ford rolled his eyes and elbowed him good-naturedly. His breakup with Carla McCorkle had been a messy one. Karma seemed to strike at both Carla and the boy she'd cheated on Stanley with, Thistle Downe, in the form of someone riding his van into a ravine. According to reports it had been someone dressed up in some sort of costume with a tail. Either way love was currently a big flaming no-no in the Stan Triplets's bedroom...except for Shermie. "Perhaps it would be in your best interest to invite Veronica along, Shermie." Ah, the turns immediately tabled as Stanley's frown disappeared to be replaced by the biggest, doofiest, mischievous grin he could muster while Shermie's face turned a nice shade of tomato red. He sputtered while Stanley darted out the room to make the call leaving Stanford to block his big brother in - the commotion the duo made their mother had to warn them about roughhousing in the house and to take that mess outside. Stanley snickered, his Ma gave him an idea. Outside and to his car he ran after hearing his brothers on the stairs. When they realized that Stanley wasn't inside the brothers raced outside to see Stanley checking his pockets for his keys. Suddenly Stanley was on the ground laughing after having been tackled by Shermie which left Stanford - innocent little Stanford - to head back inside and make the call himself. "Hello, Mrs. Carlyle? This is Stanford Pines. Is Veronica there?” There’s a particularly loud wheeze from outside that catches Stanford’s attention. He looks to his Ma and shrugs before going back to his call. “Hello, Ronnie? You won't believe the good news. Do you recall that contest I entered for the trip to Paris, France to study under THE William Chiffrer? Exciting news. Not only did I win, so did Stanley and Sherman. I...will explain later, but each of us gets to bring a plus one. I am cordially inviting you--"

Talon had seen the threat coming a mile away and he actually tried to draw attention to what was going on. With him being who he was he held rank in his uncle's organization, but it only extended so far especially when the side of evil thought they'd had the victory in the bag. It was the same song and dance time and time again. They thought they had the inspector, he'd goof around and somehow come out on top with the help of his niece, and then Claw would vow vengeance the next time they crossed paths. It got old, and Talon was tired. He was tired of constantly losing when he knew that he had the skills to come out on top. In fact, he was pretty sure he could overthrow his uncle instead of working as his underling, but as things were? His street cred had plummeted. All the losses caused by Penny and her uncle set him back time and time again. The villain circles he ran in started giving out awards for the most failed missions and he had somehow gained the lead. It was embarrassing and degrading and it was about time he'd think about his future. If he wanted to show the world he was more than just that bumbling oaf who happened to be Claw's nephew then he needed to branch out and re-establish himself, perhaps even go back to the drawing board. It was when he realized that no one was going to heed his words did he decide cut his losses. He'd grabbed Penny and her dumb dog and pulled them to safety with the parting words of, “Catch ya later, Penny,” before going back into the fray. He had a mini force field surrounding him which was, in theory, supposed to be strong enough to protect him from any type of explosion. He didn't think he'd actually be in a situation where he'd be testing this out, but he didn't have too much time. He was looking for something in particular before things went side ways. It was as though his eyes landing on his prize was the trigger which launched the explosion. He cursed, a bright light blinding him before he was propelled off his feet and backwards. He clicked his heels together until the rockets activated, and he hastily righted himself, but he still slammed against through the wall behind him. He should have snapped his back. He should have been covered in flames, but instead survived - barely able to get a handle on the situation. For one thing his force field was still holding up and he’d managed to what he’d gone back for - a bejeweled box which was what his uncle had been after. Luckily whatever he was holding was also covered by his forcefield. Not only that but this explosion was the chance he'd been waiting for - to get away from his uncle and lay low, preferably with a family member that was on the opposite side of the law. You know, a good guy. It helped that he’d been straddling the fence for months now - working with HQ a bit due to some sob story he’d fed Penny which meant he definitely had an alibi. People saw him save Penny. People knew that this scheme of his uncle’s had absolutely nothing to do with him. Whatever happened here couldn’t be pinned on him. Talon’s boots were totally ruined when he activated them - they only had a few seconds of righting him before the thrusters at the bottom went off in mini explosions that luckily hadn't harmed his feet - and found an agent of Claw that was roughly his size though totally unrecognizable. He removed his boots and shoved them onto the remains and dragging it over to a still burning flame. His forcefield protected his feet from the heat, but it wouldn't hold for too much longer. Even now the heat was already starting to penetrate and he had to run. With the forcefield having protected him from the brunt of the explosion some of his other tech remained as well. There was a prototype cloaking device he'd had installed that ran on the same 3D holographic projector tech he tended to use for a quick and easy disguise. He swapped modes and from his belt a little barely noticeable light extended, scanned his form, and bent the light around him making him appear invisible. He made it half a block invisibly before the forcefield conked out with the invisibility following next which meant that his 3D projector was also down for the count. He paid it no mind as he'd taken that into consideration and made sure to avoid any areas that seemed busy. He didn't need anyone to see him running around barefoot and covered in soot. Besides, no good villain worth their salt went around town without a cache of some sort and he was near his closest one. It was a rundown apartment building which, on the outside it just looked a little lopsided; could use a little TLC. On the inside? Oh, the building looked as though it should have been condemned before his Uncle Claw was born. It was perfect, and it was where Talon cleaned himself up, changed into a set of clothing that was not his typical purple though did include another set of rocket boots, and combed his hair flat on his head giving him those infamous "Boy Band Bangs" which were partially hidden by the hood from the jacket he'd decided to wear. He left the apartment and, despite knowing it was a bad idea, made his way back to the scene of the explosion. There were HQ agents, a bomb squad, the fire department and of course police officers everywhere as well as a crowd. He spotted Inspector Gadget who'd apparently made it out unscathed as usual, and he even saw a few of Claw's men being apprehended. He shook his head. There had never been a fight between him and HQ that had gone so far in as long as he could remember. He clicked his tongue and whispered, "C'est la vie," as he walked away - washing his hands of this botched operation as well as his Uncle Claw - for good. Once far enough away and pulled out his cellphone, took a deep breath and placed a call he'd never thought he'd make. "Hey Billy. It's, ugh, Tristan*. Is that offer for help still on the table?" William Thaw* sounded visibly confused on the other end of the line, most likely because he'd been sleeping at the time. When he realized that his cousin was in need of help he woke up just a bit more. "You need a place to stay, Mr. Big Shot Criminal?" That was not the tone that Talon was hoping to hear, but it wasn't entirely unexpected either. Most if not all of their family was evil including Billy's dad. Even their grandma was evil, but no one had really given Billy the memo so he turned out to be one of the good guys. With him and Talon being roughly the same age and having lived together with their grandma for a while, there was always some form of disagreement or the other, especially when Talon had learned of their family's history and chose to follow in their footsteps. It was why he'd swapped his name from Tristan to Talon as a sign of respect for his then role model Dr. Claw. "Is this the part where you give me a huge speech about right and wrong or heroism because if it is you can save it. I’ve branched away from Uncle Claw months ago and a good thing too because he messed up big time. I tried to tell him his plan was bunk from the get-go, but he went ahead with it anyway even after I warned him about a gas leak. Then I tried to tell the stupid henchmen that the explosives they were planting were going to trigger an even bigger explosion but I’m not on the payroll anymore and apparently a bigger explosion the better. They were so concerned with making sure they got Gadget - that’s their entire thing but...Usually no one gets fatally hurt and a few people did. That's not the kind of villainy I signed up for." For a moment he thought Billy'd hung up on him, but then he heard the ruffling of blankets and the clicking of what must have been a lamp being turned on. "People died?" "One as far as I was able to tell. I was caught in the blast too. ForcefieId tech saved me and I managed to get a few people out before the blast but yeah. I'm sure it'll be on the world news if it isn't already." "What do you want from me, Tris?" Hearing that nickname hurt. "I want to initiate protocol Redo." "Never thought you'd say that." The sound of Billy getting out of bed could be heard. Moments later the sound of a computer or laptop being booted up sounded through the line. "Tell me about it. I thought I had everything planned out. Didn’t take into account that Uncle Claw’s gotten senile in his old age." "Luckily we're both deceptively smart and plan for things that we don't think we'd ever need then, huh?" "You call that luck. I call that being smarter than everyone else. Even if you don’t think it’ll ever happen to you plan for it anyway, especially in this line of business.” ”Especially.” Talon finally stopped walking when he reached a twenty-four hour fast food place where he plugged in his phone and ordered something so that he wouldn't be bothered. "I assume you handled Talon?" "Died in the explosion that took out a few senior HQ agents and a few of Claw's henchmen. Identifiable only by his rocket boots." The line was silent aside from the clicking of keys. Talon ate silently while he listened to his cousin work. A few hours of Billy working he finally came to a stop. "Tristan Thaw is in the system once more. You did a thorough job of wiping him out. Can't say that I'm surprised. I've altered Talon’s files. You're now your own twin, congratulations. You were put up for adoption at a young age but there was a missing person's report due to you running away. Your file was closed because you were presumed dead. People will most likely stumble upon this now while trying to pull up information about Talon so...in the off chance that that happens. Call me, and I will say I've been hiding you in my dorm." "No. I can't do--" "You will, Tristan. Despite the incredible foolishness of this family it's the only one I have. Despite how everyone around me is a bad guy from the worst comic book tropes I've ever read, this family still manages to take care of each other. I'm in a boarding school because I didn't want to be part of the family business. Someone in the family is paying for me to be here. You've protected me inadvertently a few times, and Uncle Claw has taken me under his wing a time or two, and I am also the first person grandma taught her cookie recipe to. The point is, despite this family being nefarious in every sense of the word, we ALL protect each other, and you came to me for help. You did what you could to stop something horrible from happening, and it happened anyway. If worse comes to worse I'm sure Uncle Claw would help--" "Gonna stop you right there. I don't want his help, otherwise I'd have gone back to the lair. This is...let him think I'm dead. You're the only one who’ll know the truth." "Of course. Well, if you can manage to get from where you are to Paris there's an apartment that seems to have been paid for. Has been in my name for a while. I'm thinking Grandma made me a few safe houses just in case I decided to turn rotten, but you can stay there." "Thanks Billy." "You can thank me by not pulling this stunt again." "Or I'll just say thank you and move to your safehouse."

---TIME SKIP--- ONE MONTH LATER

When Billy told him about the safehouse in Paris he probably should have expected the place to be pretty well furnished and in a decent part of the city. It wasn’t exactly flashy, but it would probably garner the attention of his neighbors. Luckily he had a backstory figured out, a passport, a birth certificate and other documentation that he needed. Luckily for him there was nobody looking for him, and even if they were they certainly would have no reason to look for him in Paris. It was the perfect escape for him, and definitely gave him time to himself. He didn’t want to drop the villain thing, but if he wanted to become a huge contender then he was going to have to change his image. He was going to have to one up the competition and finally...he was going to have to down his uncle. For now, he had to start small. For now he had to blend in with the masses, build up a bit of a rep while staying in the shadows until he could build his own empire. Luckily for him he had a few connections already.

The three dorks staying across from him had arrived a few days after he moved in and made quite the impression. The one with the six fingers had bumped into him and apologized profusely for not paying attention to where he was walking and flailed his hands a bit. Talon, or rather Tristan made the faux pas of commenting on his fingers aloud which seemed to cause some embarrassment. Another boy, had to be a twin or something, heard the remark and was making his way over with his fists clenched causing Talon to remark that he’d never seen something so cool before. It seemed to be the right thing to say as all three of them somewhat relaxed while heading up the stairs. That’s where Talon encountered the third of them realizing that he was staying across from a set of triplets. It was a bit awkward at first, before the boy with the glasses answered his question about what they were doing in Paris. “I didn’t know that Willy had a contest going on. You guys must be pretty smart if he chose the three of you, and siblings to boot.” Of course Talon knew very well that Willy wasn’t exactly a good person. The guy was sophisticated in public, but in private he had a bit of sadistic streak and was pretty psychotic in some instances. Yeah the dude was an actual genius, but he also gathered great minds and exploited them. The fact that he’d gathered three brothers, triplets no less? Something was definitely going on. “You say that as though you know the man personally,” Stanford stated while his brother, the one with the slightly darker hair (Shermie) opened the door and Stanley carried some stuff inside. “Not at all,” he immediately shook his head. “I tried to enter his contest before as well. I actually made a hoverboard--” “Like from Back to the Future?” Stanley asked as he kicked his box into the room. Talon nodded and said,"Exactly like that," while Stanford looked skeptical. That was the start of their...he wouldn’t exactly call it a friendship but it was pretty close. --------------------- Adrien hadn’t been expecting to be invited to the triplet’s apartment building after their initial gathering and photo-op with William and his father, but he had accepted the invite anyway seeing as it would allow him to spend some time with teenagers his age while using his father’s tactics against him. “I was supposed to meet up and help the Pines’s today for an hour before meeting Kagami for our fencing lesson? His father had simply nodded through the tablet monitor that Nathalie was holding. Adrien took off soon after that with G manning the car. When he’d arrived at the apartment it was to an open door and the triplets arguing over what they wanted to do first. There was also another boy there, arms crossed and back against the wall with a smirk on his face. Adrien had the feeling that he’d been the cause of this little argument. “Am I early?” he’d asked which drew the triplet’s attention. “Yer right on time, Aiden.” “His name is Adrien, be nice.” The identical brothers bickered between themselves while Sherman shook his head and beckoned for Adrien to come inside before closing the door. “Just go. It’s not a big deal.” All eyes turned to Talon who pushed off the wall and raised his hands. “Of course it’s a big deal! He can take his girl all over Paris after we celebrate. We’ve been here for a week and haven’t burned our apartment down. This is a cause for celebration! Let the Pines Brothers party for a day,” Stanley argued with his arms crossed. Shermie just covered his face in his hands and sighed. "Or we can go get Ronnie since she may as well be a Pines, grab some snacks and celebrate here?” “Stanford Filbrick Pines--” The two outsiders watched in amusement as Sherman tried to grab the six fingered boy who ducked behind Stanley and then into the kitchenette practically dragging the loudmouthed boy with him. “So um, who are--” “I live across the hall. Gotta admit these guys have been the best entertainment I could have possibly asked for. What about you, Mr. Agreste? Working a charity case here?” Adrien was partially confused and partially offended by the question. “Not at all. I was invited over.” “Oh, that makes more sense.” He hadn’t elaborated on that making Adrien narrow his eyes before the triplets re-emerged from wherever they’d been in the apartment. Stanley had his arms crossed while Stanford was scowling. Shermie looked far less ruffled than the other two which meant he’d proven his point. "Sorry about that, you two. The plan is we’re going to call my friend to have her meet us here then head out for a celebratory get together. Since you two are the only people we know here we’d thought you’d be up to joining us?” The fact that Adrien had made three new friends who wanted to hang out with him brought a smile to his face, but then he thought about his obligations and the other friends he’d had to turn down. His smile turned a bit sad before he shook his head. "I’m really sorry you guys, but I can’t stay for very long. My schedule is booked solid. The only reason I was able to slip out was because I told my father that I had to help you three for an hour before I have to practice my fencing.” Talon lunged at the air in front of him, swinging around an imaginary rapier before snorting, “Can you be any more of a cliche?” Even Stanley cracked a smile at that before lunging towards Talon with his arm out, the two of them swiping at each other with their invisible weapons, Stanley beginning to talk like a pirate while Shermie was in the process of calling Ronnie to let her know of their plans. “Ignore them,” Stanford said while giving his brother and Talon a glare that went completely ignored. “It’s what I do when they get like this.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” was Adrien’s annoyed reply. A second later he found himself being dragged into the sword fight by Talon before Stanley grabbed an unwilling-to-participate Stanford. “My first mate will absolutely swab the deck with ye’s!” “Stanley no.” “Cap’n Lee thinks he kin board me ship and spread ‘is tall tales, but we’s a learn’em.” “Tristan don’t encourage him!” Stanford’s words went ignored as Talon managed to grabbed a decorative pillow from the couch and chucked it at the six fingered boy yelling, “CANNON BALL!”. Taking it as an immediate out, Stanford dramatically fell to the floor, sat up and positioned the thrown pillow beneath his head, and then laid back again. “Nooooo, Sixer! I shall avenge ye!” He ran towards Talon only to be intercepted by Adrien as he slid in front of the other boy. Stanley’s eyes widened, surprised at Adrien’s speed, and he tried to stop before colliding. Adrien moved out of the way as quickly as he’d come while Talon remained there holding out another of the pillows which he used to smack Stan in the face as he came to a stop. Stanley dropped to the ground dramatically like Stanford had and made gurgling noises since the unwritten/impromptu rule was that the pillows were cannon balls. The four boys laughed before Stanford got up and put the pillows away with a shake of his head. Stanley was glad to have managed to get his brother to participate. It had been a long time since they’d done something like this and it made him think that this trip to Paris was a good idea, especially after having met “Tristan’ and Adrien.

#femmechanceux #—Swindler's Folly #► Opossumus Prime #► Triple Threat #► Gadget HQ #—X-0vers #Tristan is Talon's name in the French version #William Thaw is the son of Dr. Thaw #Billy and Dr. Thaw are both from Gadget and the Gadgetinis #Dr. Thaw is Dr. Claw's Twin

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gctjinxd · 4 years

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I am in a mood to talk about jinx / my jinx so here are some important things that I have developed on this blog and some interesting facts about Jinx from the comic books in case people are not familiar with her other variations.

she’s from India and has dark skin. unfortunately I am not great at editing icons so unless its my life action fc she unfortunately does not have her natural skin tone. yet. I am working on improving my editing to make my icons match properly

in the comics she has power over the elements. in the tv show they changed it to give her luck manipulation. I liked the idea of luck manipulation better so that is what my jinx is capable of.

my jinx is a metahuman and born as a metahuman. in any verse where she has her powers she has pink hair and pink catlike eyes. if she does not have her power, her hair is a deep red and her eyes a deep reddish brown.

she also has a ton of freckles along her nose and cheeks and all over her shoulders and back. they are hot pink in verses where she has her power making them extra noticeable. another birthmark she has is a heart on her inner right ankle. only the HIVE and Victor know about this birthmark.

my jinx is four foot eleven inches. however, with how she styles her hair and the lifts she wears she caps out at five foot one. she will always wear lifts and do a bunch of little things to make herself Bigger.

the comics never gave her a name. Ever. so I had to do what I had to do and gave her one myself. she however went by Jinx as her predominant name since she was eight years old and was taken in by Slade’s Wife, the headmistress of Hive Academy. since she went by Jinx for so long, she rarely gives out her actual name unless she ABSOLUTELY trusts the person. on top of that, her actual name is NOT in any file. her parents had her completely erased. her birthname is Asha Goswami, but after her parents abandoned her she picked up the last name Kaur ( which according to my research is a common last name that disowned women take up in India ). only two people in her life know her last name as having been Goswami; Victor Stone and Headmistress Wilson.

victor leaving her to Blood was Rough for her. but it also was the time they shared together that started her down the path to redemption. Wally HELPED her down the path and stay on the right path, but it was Victor’s influence as well as Rogue’s treatment of her that ultimately made her start doubting herself as a villain.

she is afraid of the Joker above anything else and anyone else. not even Blood who canonically abused her for a good majority of her life scares her as much as Joker scares her. she’s freaked by him. if joker is included odds are she will just. walk the other way and not look back. rip anyone joker tries killing in her vicinity because she just. does Not fuck with the Joker she gets the fuck out of there.

she thinks of her team as her family. they are all her younger brothers and its her job as leader / big sister to make sure they succeed and to protect them from Blood as best she can should she fail to ensure their success. she blames herself for poor leadership skills and blames her own powers for why her team fails. she also thinks she deserves the harsher punishments in their places because she is their leader and bad luck to everyone around her.

she absolutely was abused canonically in HIVE. Blood is her biggest abuser and manipulator. the headmistress also was abusive but not to the extent that Blood is. she is hyper aware of his presence and absolutely terrified of upsetting him in any way. she will stand up for her team to an extent but in doing so she is willingly sacrificing her own safety in their place.

she has multiple scars from Blood alone. the vast majority of her injuries came from her failures to please Blood. if someone asks about them she will either outright refuse to answer or just change the topic depending on how close she feels to the person. if she really trusts them, she might give little hints as to where she got them from, but ultimately she will never say the full truth of them.

Ash will also not discuss her time at HIVE openly with anyone. she may tell a few of the good things, she may tell a few stories of stuff she did while there, but she will never discuss what happened to her or her siblings while she was there. nor will she mention anything in depth. even the stories she tells will be very short and barely include any emotional connections. the only people she will discuss deeper with are her siblings from HIVE, Victor who has lived through SOME of what she went through. otherwise people she is close to like Wally would only know a little bit and would learn enough to know that she was heavily abused and traumatized from her time there but wouldn’t know exactly what happened. just that Blood is a monster and she is deeply affected by it.

#;; ( hard and fast shines the grin that i flash but theres a vulnerable stripe or two on me. ABOUT )#v; ( good was never an option for me. HIVE 5 )#v; ( I choose my own path. TEEN TITAN )#v; ( one day i'm going to rule the world. HIVE ACADEMY )

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

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Choices - Tyler Seguin/Jamie Benn - Part 22

Word Count: 2,545

POV: Switches, starts as reader changes to Tyler

Warnings: Language, like a lot of language...haha

Notes: Sorry this is a little late, lots of personal stuff going on this past week. Hope you enjoy this Part. Don’t forget to vote!!! As always feedback is welcome! We’ll keep voting open on this one until noon on Saturday EST, since I was late getting it out.

Choices Masterlist

READER POV

You’d been mulling over what you wanted to tell Jamie in your head since the moment you found out you were pregnant with Tyler’s baby. It wasn’t like you thought you could keep this from him forever. Eventually, you were going to start to show and then you’d be answering more questions, but you really felt there was only one option right now. “I don’t know Ty, I think we just need to keep this to ourselves for a while.”

“I’ll do whatever you want (Y/N), you know that; though eventually, we’ve got to tell him something.”

“I know. I really do, and we will; as soon as we get past this first trimester.” You were so afraid you were going to jinx things if you told anyone about the baby. The second you found out that you were pregnant again, you read anything and everything on how to prevent a miscarriage. Which meant you were taking your folic acid, not drinking a drop of caffeine, and eating even healthier than normal. If it was in your power to prevent the heartache you experienced the last time, you would do it.

Tyler must have noticed where your thoughts had drifted, for his arms tightened around you just a little more. “You’ll make it there, babe, and if that means that we don’t say anything to Jamie right now; I can do that.”

“Thanks, Ty.” It was a load off your mind that he understood where you were coming. “So you’re ok with keeping this from Jamie, at least until we can figure out if it will affect his amnesia?”

“Yeah babe, I’m fine with that.” His hands kept running across your belly, looking for signs of the baby; which obviously weren’t there yet. “But what exactly does Jamie think? I mean you moved out, does he think you guys are still together?”

“Well…it’s not like I broke up with him. I just told him that I need to start living my life again. You know going back to work and singing; which I am going back to work.”

“Why? You know I’ll take care of everything. You’re not going to work once the baby’s born; are you?”

“No I suppose I’m not going to, but I can’t just ask you…”

“Yes you can, and you’re not asking me. I’m offering.” He turned you to face him, so you could see the seriousness on his face. “(Y/N), I want the three of us to be a family. Hell, if I thought for a second you’d say yes; I’d get down on one knee and ask you to marry me right now.” Tyler threw you for a loop with that statement. Of course, he’d talked about marriage and family before, but you had no idea he wanted all of that right now. “Don’t worry I’m not asking right now, but it will be soon, trust me.” Of this, you had no doubt. You just hoped you’d be ready with an answer when he did. “But there’s no point in going back to work, only to quit. Besides, I want all your free time.”

“Oh you do, do you?” He was wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Why yes, I do. In fact, I was thinking I should probably take you to bed right now.” His fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. Hands skating up your sides, only to stop short once he reached your bra. “Is this ok? Like it’s not going to hurt the baby or anything?”

The concern on his face was quite evident, you knew he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the baby any more than you did; even if it meant giving up sex. “It’s ok Ty, I talked to the doctor and there’s no link between miscarriages and sex.”

He picked you up and started back the hallway then. “Well in that case.” Tyler never left your side, until he had practice the following morning. He avoided Jamie at all costs. If Jamie was in the locker room, then Tyler went into the therapy room to get taped up. Thankfully Jamie wasn’t skating with the team just yet, so it was easy to evade him the rest of the time.

You, on the other hand, made sure to check on Jamie every day. There were nights when he would beg you to stay, and as long as Tyler was playing; you’d stay at least until the game was over. Jamie questioned your relationship all the time and it was getting harder and harder to convince him that things were still the same between the two of you, even though you weren’t having sex. But you were pretty confident that Jamie had no clue that you were pregnant, and you hoped it stayed that way.

TYLER’S POV

It’d been two weeks, since (Y/N) told you about the baby. Two long fucking weeks, where you couldn’t say anything to anyone. You knew she was still going over to Jamie’s pretending to be his girlfriend, and it was driving you insane. Every day that you saw him at the rink, you could see the smirk in his eye. As if he had the upper hand when it came to (Y/N). Which was absolutely ridiculous, because Jamie didn’t remember that you had actually dated (Y/N) before him.

It was the first day that Jamie was practicing with the team, though he still wasn’t cleared for full contact. He was skating pretty well for someone that had been off the ice for a while, and you decided to be a little encouraging to your friend. Skating over to the bench, you grabbed a drink from the water bottle before saying, “Looking pretty good out there Chubbs.” He nodded but didn’t say anything more, which seemed a little off. “All those hours at therapy paid off.”

“Yeah that’s what (Y/N) keeps saying.” You had to bite your tongue, when he mentioned (Y/N)’s name. “She’s the real reason why I’m doing so well. If it wouldn’t be for how well she takes care of me; I may have never gotten back on the ice.”

You hoped he didn’t see the eye roll that you just gave them, but then did you really care. “Yeah, she’s amazing,” Bowness called it a day and slowly everyone started filing into the locker room.

“She really is. I’m so lucky that she’s my girlfriend.” Jamie started down the hallway, still talking; so you decided to follow instead of spending some extra time on the ice. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah man, anything you know that.” Though the answer wasn’t completely true, there were certain things you didn’t want to know about (Y/N)’s relationship with Jamie, that’s for sure.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Did he just say what you thought he said? Your heart was racing with anger. Jamie couldn’t propose to (Y/N), not when she was supposed to be your wife, besides she was carrying your child, not his.

Taking a deep breath in you tried to calm the riot of anger seething at the surface. “Are you sure you want to do that? I thought I heard Klinger say she moved out of your place or something.” You’d kept your distance from Jamie over the last couple weeks since (Y/N) had left him. It wasn’t entirely on purpose, the two of you were just spending more time together, now that she wasn’t under his roof. So there was no need to be at Jamie’s.

“I have a feeling she was just scared I wasn’t ready to commit. I mean we haven’t been dating all that long, but you know this accident has just made me realize how much I need her in my life.” By now you’d reached the outside of the locker room, and the two of you were just standing there while everyone else was inside. Jamie dropped his voice down low so no one would hear, not that anyone was around. “So like don’t say anything, but I think she’s pregnant.” Of course, she was pregnant; with your baby, you wanted to scream, yet you remained silent. When you didn’t say anything, Jamie continued. “I think that’s why she moved out, she was just scared I wouldn’t want the baby, but of course I couldn’t be happier. Once she knows this, I’m sure she’ll be moving back in as well as saying yes when I propose.”

You stood there, anger bubbling to the surface at every word that Jamie spoke. There was no way the mother of your child was going to be marrying someone else. You could almost feel your teeth grinding down to nothing, as you tried to keep your mouth shut.

“I can’t wait to see her pregnant with my baby, and then when she has it…man, it will just be amazing to hold my baby.”

That was it, you were so angry that you felt like a volcano just waiting to erupt; then you did. “It’s not your baby. It’s mine.” Jamie, flinched as if you’d struck him in the face. Then out of know where he punched you. “What the fuck….”And then he hit you again; you had no choice but to defend yourself. You grabbed Jamie by the neck of his practice jersey and pulled your arm back ready to hit him square in the face. When suddenly you stopped.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” Jamie taunted. “Hit me. You’ve already ruined my fucking life.” You dropped your arm down to your side. There was no point in fighting with Jamie, you’d already won.

“I’m not fighting you, Jamie.”

He shoved you back. “Why the fuck not?” Another push. “I should’ve never taken you to meet her that night.” He shoved you one last time, and then you pressed up against the wall. His forearm pressed against your neck cutting off your oxygen supply. “You could have anyone you want, why does it have to be (Y/N)? Why did have to go behind my back and fuck the woman I love?”

“I love her too.” You choked out, as you noticed a few of your teammates milling about watching the exchange between yourself and their captain.

“Fuck that shit. You don’t deserve her after everything you did.” Wait what did Jamie just say. Did he have his memory back? He would have to if he knew what happened between you and (Y/N). Bringing your hands up, you shoved Jamie off of you, catching him off guard with your sudden attack.

“You remember,” You hissed out low for only him to hear. The shock in Jamie’s eyes told you that you had guessed right, but there was something else there, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Then it clicked. “You’ve been lying the whole time.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jamie tried to cover.

“You bastard. You’ve been lying to her the whole time.” He tried to feign innocence but you weren’t having it. Your fist connected with his jaw before you knew what you were doing and you saw Jamie stumble back before falling to the ground. You were so filled with rage, you had no control over your body, as you landed on top of him hitting him with another blow. It wasn’t until Rads pulled you off and the medical staff came running to attend Jamie, that you could even start to see straight.

“Jesus, what the fuck are you two fighting about?” Bowness asked, grabbing you and hauling you off to the corner. “Do you know how bad this looks for the damn organization? The fucking captain and alternate battling it out. Outside the locker room no less? Get your ass in there and have someone look at your fucking eye.” It was only then that you noticed there was blood streaming down your face. You looked at Jamie’s form laying on the ground and just glared it.

It was at that moment that (Y/N) walked in, taking in the whole scene. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s not what it looks like?” You tried to explain but you could tell how pissed she was. “What are you doing here?”

“Bish called me, he heard you and Jamie fighting.” She looked over at Jamie who was being dragged off the floor, barely able to stand on his own.

“Are you ok?” She rushed over to his side but looked at you as she said. “Did you do this?”

“It’s not what you think, let me explain.”

Jamie chose that moment to finally speak. “Who are you?” He looked down at (Y/N) as he asked the question. “Where am I?” You saw red, and it wasn’t from the blood running down your face.

“Oh my god!” (Y/N) gasped. “Jame, it’s me. It’s (Y/N).”

He tested her name on his lips as if he hadn’t heard her name before. “Do I know you?”

“We need to get him to the hospital.”

“There’s no point (Y/N). He’s been faking it the whole time.” It felt good to say it out loud. That was until you looked at (Y/N), and saw only disappointment in her eyes. Which would be ok, if it wasn’t directed at you. “It’s true (Y/N). He admitted it.” He hadn't really, but you knew it was the truth.

Jamie didn’t say a word, just held a hand to his head, as if he was in extreme pain. “I don’t want to hear it right now Tyler.” She turned her full attention toward Jamie. “I think you need to go to the hospital.” She ran a hand through his hair from where you hit him the second time. “Would you let me take you there? I know you don’t remember me, but I’m your girlfriend Jamie.” He looked at her with a blank stare, and your blood boiled. “You know what, why don’t you just let one of the guys take you?”

“No, no. It’s ok. I believe you.” He told her, now leaning heavily on her. The fact that he was taking advantage of (Y/N) while she was pregnant with your child, made you want to lay him flat out on the ground again. “I’ll go with you.”

“(Y/N) please just listen to me.” You grabbed her hand to stop her, while Jamie held on to her other one. "Jesus, would you just tell her the truth."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jamie pulled her closer to him, and you tugged at her again.

"I'm done with this Jamie. Tell (Y/N) the truth now." It was in that moment that Jamie stepped forward at the same time you did, the act pushing (Y/N) and causing her to fall on the ground.

"Argh!" She yelled grabbing her stomach and your heart dropped.

Now it’s your turn for some choices:

A) Tyler rushes to be at (Y/N)'s side to see how she is and take care of her first.

B) Jamie rushes to be at (Y/N)'s side to see how she is and take care of her first. C) (Y/N)'s had enough of the two of them fighting and ask someone else to take her to the hospital to check on the baby. D) (Y/N) loses the baby.

#Choices series Tyler Seguin Jamie Benn #tyler seguin #jamie benn #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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