#in my short fic era this month! everyone clapped!

[fastcardotmp3]

“Nancy Wheeler, twenty-one years old. Nancy— Wheeler—” a pained sound, clawing from the back of her throat, “Nancy Wheeler, twenty-one, from Hawkins, Indiana. Wrongfully imp–imprisoned. For whistleblowing— illegal acts of— human— experimentation—” » Ronance // Rated M // Hurt/Comfort // 2.2k » Febuwhump #1: Helpless & Solitary Confinement » Febuwhump Masterlist

read on ao3 // preview under the cut

The fog so filled to the brim with hopeless want that she can sometimes hear their voices echoing off of the walls, sometimes hear Steve’s optimism or Jonathan’s caution; sometimes hear her brother’s ferocity or Max Mayfield’s determination. 

Sometimes, most of the time, she hears Robin. 

“You have to be more careful about this, Nance. If they find out how much you have on them–” “They’re going to find out. That’s the point.” “The point is moot if you end up dead along the way!” “The point is that too many people already are!”

She hears Robin. 

“Please come back to bed. It’s colder without you.”  “I’ll be there in just a minute. I had this thought…” “It’s three in the morning.” “I know, just–” “Nancy. C’mere. Come back to me, yeah?” “...Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

She hears Robin.

“You are strong but you are not invincible.” “I’m whatever I need to be to get this done.” “You are not invincible, Nancy Wheeler. Come back to me.”

And it’s echoing and it’s loud and it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard to hear her voice but not feel the warmth of her calloused hands, to not feel her wrap Nancy up in her arms from behind, those dry lips pressing to the spot just behind her ear. 

[bisexualhomelander]

23, 30, and 49!

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

I have answered this one in a different ask, but to put it short:

Hannibal Game of Thrones crossover.

Mirrorlander workplace comedy.

I still want to finish them badly. But the Outlook is Grim, so I wouldn't hold my breath for either of the two.

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

I have once written a rather large historical fic set in the era of the crusades for a different fandom. I am not a historian, but did a fuckton of research to get it into the zone where I don't have to be ashamed at my absolute non-knowledge.

It changed my approach to writing fic by making me very proud of the accomplishment and also letting me vow to never do that again, ha. Things I learned: I am a more talented author than I thought I am. I am also a lazy fucker.

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

I have shared PWP with a different asker, so you will NOT get PWP. You will get a snippet of the depowered HL dad fic because I am apparently a jack of many trades lmao who can handle TWO WIPS instead of one. Clap, everyone. Clap.

His father was in the kitchen with his glasses in his hands, turning them this way and that, squinting at them. "How was your walk?" he asked absentmindedly, and like always, it sounded like a rehearsed phrase. At first, Ryan had been bothered by the way Homelander talked because there was always some level of artifice to it. He'd come to realise it didn't mean any of the words he said were particularly false, though.

"Good. It's really cold out today, so I came home early." He hung his rain jacket up and went to the fire.

For a few months now, his experience with temperature had been gradually undergoing change.

He remembered shivering in his snow suit as a toddler when his mom had thrown snow in his face. He had felt the cold like a bite to his skin. The heat had driven sweat on his brow. Now, he could lean as close to the fire as he liked, and while he could always feel the warmth, there was never a moment where he recoiled from it. As of now, he'd never been brave enough to put his hand directly into the flames and let them lick at his skin.

"Will it hurt if I touch the flames?" he asked into the silence because why wouldn't he just ask the man who must know the answer.

There was a beat of silence, and then he heard the footsteps of his father walk over to him. He had the glasses back on as he crouched down next to him, and the fire was mirrored in them. "It'll hurt. I can't promise it won't burn you a bit. Wait a while until you're sure it won't."

Ryan blinked at him. It was the first time his father had advised him to be cautious. Ever. Two years ago, he'd thrown him off a roof. "So my skin is invulnerable but... not?"

[searchingwardrobes]

Priceless: 9/9

Here it is, finally, the long-promised happy ending! This chapter varies the most from the movie because I felt that it left a lot of questions unanswered. Mainly, how Joel Smallbone's character managed to avoid going to jail. I've also worked some canon CS into this chapter, which required changing things up.

Is Regina's legal strategy for Killian realistic? Well, I'll confess, I'm not a lawyer, but I figured if John Grisham can write a bestselling book that became a hit movie in which a main pleads not guilty to murdering his daughter's rapists in cold blood, in broad daylight, in a crowded courthouse, then I can damn well write this fic the way I want to.

Thanks once again to my beta @xhookswenchx​ for looking this over!

Summary: Summary: Desperate men often find themselves in places they never thought they would go, but for Killian Jones it would finally force him to be the hero his daughter always thought he could be. The job was simple: drive the truck, don’t open the back, don’t ask questions. But Killian Jones has never followed instructions very well …

An AU of the movie Priceless starring Joel Smallbone of For King and Country.

Rating: M for themes

Trigger warnings: This story is about human trafficking so there are discussions of rape and non-con, some of it involving minors. None of it is portrayed as positive nor is it graphically described. If you have any specific questions or concerns before reading, feel free to message me.

***But this chapter we finally leave all of that behind for the happy ending - whoop, whoop!***

Words: A little over 4k in this chapter

Also on Ao3 and a part of my series Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom-Com: 2nd Edition. This chapter ends that series! There’s also a First Edition.

Tagging: @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @kmomof4​ @thislassishooked​ @welllpthisishappening​ @bethacaciakay​ @teamhook​ @let-it-raines​ @wellhellotragic​ @winterbaby89​ @kday426​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @shady-swan-jones​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @shireness-says​ @spartanguard​ @superchocovian​ @scientificapricot​ @stahlop​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @vvbooklady1256​ @tiganasummertree​ @nikkiemms​ @jennjenn615​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @shipsxahoy​ @cat-sophia​ @artistic-writer​ @thejacketandthehook​ @hollyethecurious​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @branlovestowrite​ @dassala​ @allofdafandoms-blog​ @snidgetsafan​ @pocket-anon​ @optomisticgirl​ @flslp87​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @courtorderedcake​ @distant-rose​ @lfh1226-linda​

Three Months Later . . .

My hands were sweating, and I wanted to rub them on my dress pants, but Regina was adamant that I wasn’t to show any signs of nerves today. Yesterday when Emma took the stand, I had been unable to keep the emotions at bay, especially when the DA cross examined her like she was a criminal and not a victim. Yet my bloody brilliant lass hadn’t let him rattle her for a second.

I knew what a gamble this all was - pleading “not guilty.” Yet Regina thought it was my best shot at avoiding prison, and even one day back in that place was the last thing I wanted. I couldn’t be away from Alice again, and the sentence for pulling out a firearm in public was three months to a year plus a thousand dollar fine. Yet with my record, a judge could have levied an even harsher sentence if I pled guilty.

The DA was giving his closing arguments - a passionate speech about the dangers of vigilante justice and of the innocent lives that could have been lost. It sounded pretty convincing, even to me, and I worried that the jury was swallowing every bit of it. I glanced back at Liam, and he gave me the smallest of nods and smiled. Regina nudged me with her knee. Don’t look at your family and friends had been her other order, one I continuously had a difficult time obeying. Liam’s arm was still in a sling from the gunshot wound in his shoulder, and I knew he was sometimes still in pain. Yet here he was, supporting me. Elsa sat next to him, squeezing his hand comfortingly. They had both also taken the stand yesterday.

Once the DA took his seat, Regina Mills stood regally and smoothed her sensible business skirt. I had learned over the last few months that though she was no-nonsense and a bit snarky at times, she had a passion for justice and truth. The girls were in the US legally now because of her, with Anna enrolled in the local high school.

“Ladies and gentleman of the jury,” Regina began, giving them a confident smile, “I ask you to contemplate something for a moment. Why is my client on trial? First of all, he didn’t even fire his gun. That violence occurred because of the criminals he was trying to thwart. So again I ask, why is he on trial? For ensuring that Robert Gold, the head of a massive human trafficking ring, is in jail? For helping the Nevada Bureau of Investigation bring down that ring? For saving the lives of three innocent women, one of them a minor? If that’s why he’s on trial, then I’m confused. Aren’t you? Didn’t he do all he could to do the right thing, even at risk to himself? Is this behavior our society should punish?”

Regina paced for a few moments, probably to give the jury time to mull over her questions. Then she drew closer to the jury box.

“The DA says my client is a vigilante. He says my client should have gone to the police, but my client DID go to the police! It ended up that the police were involved in the trafficking ring. What was my client supposed to do? He could have walked away. He could have forgotten all about these innocent victims. But he didn’t. Instead he did the same thing that many of our forefathers did during a different era of slavery. Just like those who worked the Underground Railroad, he broke the law. He broke the law to free slaves. He knew the risk he was taking, but he took it willingly to help the oppressed. Will you join him? Will you do your part to end slavery today? Will you stand up against even our own justice system that so often looks the other way? Stand up with my client. Find him not guilty. For he isn’t a criminal - he’s a hero. Thank you.”

Regina barely glanced my way as she sat, cool and composed. It was quite the speech, though I wasn’t sure I was as noble as she had led the jury to believe.

The jury filed out of the room to deliberate, and the rest of the courtroom was given a recess by the judge. David and Mary Margaret paid my bail when I was arrested, so I didn’t have to go back into custody. Instead, I embraced Emma and squeezed her hand as she smiled tremulously up at me. Liam came over and clapped me on the shoulder. Even Tiana had come all the way from New Orleans to support me. Mary Margaret was babysitting Alice, however. We didn’t want to expose her to the details of the trial.

“I don’t know why the jury even has to discuss anything,” Emma told me as she took both of my hands gently in hers.

“It was an amazing closing argument, Regina,” my brother said, squeezing my shoulder and beaming at Regina.

“Well, let’s not celebrate yet,” she cautioned, “you never know how a jury will go.”

“I thought you said this was my best chance!” I exclaimed.

Regina waved her hand dismissively in the air. “Oh, it is, but we discussed the risks, remember.”

“Way to build my confidence,” I grumbled.

“Hey, none of that,” Tiana admonished, placing a hand on my forearm, “everything Regina said is true. You deserve thanks, not punishment. Alice is so proud of you, and so am I.”

I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat at her words. Tiana didn’t give forgiveness and second chances easily, and I was humbled to have received both from her in the past few months.

Emma still hadn’t released my hands. If anything, she was clasping them harder. I suddenly realized she was trembling.

“Emma?” I asked gently, tipping her chin up. I was alarmed to see that she was crying.

“If they send you to jail for this -”

“Hey, hey,” I soothed, bringing her closer and wrapping my arms around her, “it’s going to be alright. I’m a survivor, love.”

She turned her face into my chest, and I felt her tears wet the fabric of my shirt. I wished I could promise her that they wouldn’t find me guilty, but how could I? I pulled out a gun that I didn’t even have a permit for in a public park. A man died because of me. I may not have pulled the trigger that sent the bullet through Neal Cassidy’s heart, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have a hand in his death.

Although I’d be lying if I said his death was heavy on my conscience. It wasn’t. I couldn’t muster a modicum of remorse for him. Emma was safe and alive, so was Elsa. We had gotten Anna out of there before her innocence was shattered forever. I would do it all again if I had to, even if I went to jail for the next three years. It would shatter my heart to be away from Alice, but at least I could look her in the eye without shame.

Much too soon, the jury filed back in, and the judge called for everyone to take their seats. I wanted to ask Regina if a short deliberation was good or bad, but my nerves were too on edge. I clasped my hands in my lap and stared at them, unable to gather enough courage to look at the jury.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“We have your honor.”

I held my breath.

“We the jury find the defendant . . . not guilty.”

Behind me, my friends and family cheered. I felt Liam’s good arm come roughly around my shoulders, and he shook me in an exuberant hug. Overcome, I lifted both my trembling hands to my face and couldn’t stop the tears of relief.

It was over. Finally.

On shaking legs, I rose and turned to those who had supported me so well throughout this entire nightmare. Emma let out a cry and flung herself into my arms, peppering my face with chaste kisses. I cupped the back of her head, threading my fingers through the strands of her ponytail. I was pulled from her arms, however, by first David, then Tiana, then Elsa. Even Regina embraced me. But my mind was never far from Emma and the future we could now have together.

***********************************************

I knocked on the door frame of Emma’s room at the Nolan’s, but she didn’t even turn to look my way. I hadn’t pursued anything more than friendship with her for the past three months. For one, I wanted her to heal from her trauma, and for another, I knew my future was uncertain. Even now, I didn’t want to rush her, but I also couldn’t hold back my feelings any longer. My love for her had only grown as she had supported me through the trial.

“Come in,” she said softly, her gaze focused on her hands clasped in her lap.

“What do you think?” I asked as I gently eased down on the bed next to her. She turned her face further away from me.

“I think it’s great.”

“Great? The Nolan’s are perfect for this kind of work, and so is this land.”

“It’s been nice of them to put us all up here.” She finally shifted towards me, yet her head was still down. “I think it’s time for me to move on, though.”

I frowned. “Move on? But didn’t you hear them? Didn’t you look at the plans? They plan on building two dormitories on the old grazing land,” I took Emma’s hand gently in mine and added softly, “and several family homes.”

“I know,” she told me, finally lifting her gaze to mine. Tears were welling up in her eyes, but I couldn’t figure out why.

“One of them will be Elsa and Liam’s, you know.”

Emma finally smiled. “Yes, I know. She loves him so much.”

“And he loves her,” I infused emotion into my voice and stroked Emma’s knuckles with my thumb, hoping she would catch my meaning.

She lowered her eyes again and stared at the motion of my thumb. “And Anna will be living here with the Nolans until she graduates at least.”

“Aye, as she should. The Nolans have been named her legal guardians, and it won’t surprise me if they adopt her.”

Only half of Emma’s lips turned up in a smile. “I’m so happy.”

“You don’t sound happy.” I lifted her chin so she would look at me again. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “My love,” I whispered, brushing at her tears with the pad of my thumb, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m happy for my sisters. Ever since this whole thing started, that’s been my only goal. Get them out, help them start over.” She took in a shaky breath, then let it out slowly, as if gathering her strength. “But it was never for me - starting over. It was too late for me; I’ve always known that. I don’t want their pity, or yours, so I think . . . I think it’s best that I move on. Find my own place.”

Her words were like a punch to the gut. I thought we had grown closer as the weeks had gone by; I thought she shared my feelings. Had I read her completely wrong?

“Emma, none of us pity you. Your sister’s love you. I love you.”

She rose from the bed and stepped away from me, hugging her middle. “I know you all do, and I appreciate all you’ve done -”

I cut her off, “I don’t think you understand me.” I rose and went to her, gently turning her to face me. “I love you Emma, with all my being - body and soul. My heart belongs to you Emma, and I want nothing more than to always, always be by your side.”

Her eyes widened, and she choked on a sob. I cupped her face in my hands and pressed my forehead to hers.

“You deserve so much more, Killian. You deserve a happy ending with Alice.”

“No, love, don’t you understand? It’s you, always you. There’s no happy ending without you as a part of our lives.”

I tried to pull her closer, wrap my arms around her, but she backed out of my embrace. “Killian,” she choked out, pressing her fist to her mouth, “I’m . . . I’m pregnant.”

Sobs overtook her body then, and she pressed her hands to her face. I deflated then, understanding flooding through me. I pulled her tenderly to me, letting her tears wet the front of my shirt as I stroked her hair.

“Regina thought it best I do a paternity test, just to be safe. It’s crazy, but . . . rapists can ask for custody rights.”

My jaw tightened so hard, I felt a headache radiate up to my temple. “Over my dead body,” I vowed.

“Don’t make threats like that, Killian Jones, they aren’t funny anymore.” She chuckled wryly, but I heard a hint of sincerity in her voice.

She stayed there in my arms, accepting my comfort, and I brushed my lips against her temple. She sighed in contentment and snuggled closer.

“It’s Neal’s,” she finally whispered.

Relief rushed through me. I had wondered where Regina would have found DNA samples. She must have suspected - hoped even - that Neal Cassidy was the father. There was no one to threaten Emma and the child, thank God. Emma let out a long, shuddering breath, then gently pushed me away from her. Unable to speak, she backed towards the door behind her, shaking her head. It suddenly dawned on me that this was about more than her pregnancy or even Neal.

“I understand. I can’t expect your love after what I did.”

At first, her brows knit together in confusion. Then she laughed sardonically. “We both think we’re not good enough. But Killian, you can’t possibly want this - want me.”

“There’s nothing in this world I want more than you! But if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this situation at all. You wouldn’t be in therapy for ptsd, you wouldn’t be carrying that bastard’s child. How can you ever want me, Emma?”

Her eyes widened at my words, her lips parted in wonder. The heaviness that had darkened her face for so many weeks, suddenly cleared. A single tear rolled down her face, but it was different than her previous ones. She crossed the gap between us and took my face gently in her hands. I closed my eyes in shame.

“Look at me,” she ordered in a soft voice, and I reluctantly opened my eyes. Her thumbs caressed my cheeks, and for the first time that day, she smiled. “Let’s say you didn’t take the job to drive that truck. We still would have been in it. You were meant to drive it, Killian.”

Now it was my turn to gaze at her in wonder. I let her words wash over me, the truth of them seeping into my soul. Emma rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. She pulled back, her smile brighter as she traced my jaw.

“Killian Jones, you’re so -”

“Handsome?” I interrupted her with a teasing smirk. “Especially when I’m angry?”

She swatted my chest gently and rolled her eyes. “How long are you gonna tease me about that?”

I pulled her close and wrapped her up in my arms. “If I have my way, for the rest of our lives.”

I bent my head, pressing my lips to hers for the first time. My heart nearly burst when she responded with urgency, parting her lips and dragging her fingers through my hair. I felt her tongue swipe against mine, and the taste of her nearly did me in. As much as I wanted to carry her to the bed and make love to her, I broke the kiss, wanting to cherish every step she allowed me to take in our relationship. I would let her take the lead. I rested my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling.

“I love you too, Killian.”

I thumbed her chin. “You are absolutely priceless, Emma.”

Three years later . . .

I saw the girl standing on the sidewalk, clad in a skin tight, animal print skirt. I motioned for Will to pull over, and I rolled my window down. She came closer, leaning against the open window to give me an ample view of her cleavage.

“Looking for some fun?” she asked me.

“I sure am,” I replied. I handed her a slip of paper. “Meet me here? Room 112?”

“I will for two hundred bucks, handsome,” she replied with an arch of her dark brows as she took the paper.

“Sounds good to me.”

She backed away from the cab, tucking the slip of paper into the dip of her low cut top and winked at me. I motioned for Will to drive on.

Fifteen minutes later, I was waiting in a dingy motel room when there was a knock at the door. The exotic brunette was on the other side, and I motioned her in. She retrieved a condom from her tiny purse, then tossed it on the room’s nightstand.

“Okay, what are you into?”

I gestured to the bed. “I’d like to just talk, if that’s okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “So you’re one of those. Whatever, it’s your money.” She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back seductively, crossing one long leg over the other.

I stepped to the door and opened it. I leaned out and called for Emma. When I ushered her into the hotel room, the girl’s eyes widened. She sat up abruptly and for the first time looked nervous.

“What the hell is this? If you want a threesome, you gotta pay extra!”

Emma shook her head as she sat down slowly on the opposite bed. I stayed near the door, which I left cracked open so the girl wouldn’t feel trapped.

“We don’t want anything like that,” Emma explained gently. “I only want to talk to you.”

The girl’s nerves only seemed to grow as her gaze bounced from Emma to me and back again. “Oh my God, are you two cops?”

“No,” we both assured her softly.

“Religious nuts?”

We both laughed and shook our heads.

“What’s your name?” Emma asked her.

The girl shifted nervously. “Jade.”

Emma shook her head gently. “What’s your real name?”

The girl bit her lower lip, but I noticed it tremble slightly nonetheless. “Jasmine.”

“They called me Swan, but my name is Emma.”

I watched Jasmine’s expression change as realization dawned. “No one’s making me do this,” she told Emma firmly.

“That doesn’t mean you chose it, though,” Emma said softly. “I mean, when you were a little girl, was this your dream?”

Jasmine’s head dropped and she clasped her hands together. “This world is no place for dreams.”

“There is hope, Jasmine, I promise,” Emma said. “Could I tell you a story?”

It was silent in the room for a long, pregnant moment. Finally, Jasmine raised her head to look Emma in the eye and then slowly nodded.

“I came to the US illegally. I trusted these men who said they would help me, but they lied. My sister’s and I were in the back of this truck. It was dark, and we were hungry and dirty . . . “ Emma turned to me and held out her hand. I took it and sank onto the hotel bed next to her. “Then the light flooded in . . . “

************************************************************

I was awakened by Emma’s cold feet sliding between my calves. My eyes fluttered open to find her nuzzled against me, her hair tickling my nose. I wrapped my arms more tightly around her and sighed in contentment. It had been another long Saturday night, but a satisfying one. Jasmine had come home with us, and Mary Margaret had wasted no time getting her settled in the women’s dormitory. Tiana had been alerted, and she would make sure Jasmine met with her for counseling over the next few days. Elsa and Liam had been less successful, unable to get two teenage girls off the streets. They were too afraid of what their pimps might do to them if they left. The work was never easy, and we had to focus on the positive or the enormity of it would become overwhelming.

One of the positives was here in my arms. I would never stop feeling awe over the gift of her love. My hand drifted down to rest upon the swell of her stomach. Emma hummed in contentment against my collarbone and pressed herself closer to me. My body responded to her as it always did, and I lowered my lips to her jaw. She gasped and tilted her head back to give my better access. Her fingers began to scratch at the nape of my neck.

“I’ve got morning breath,” she giggled breathlessly.

“Then I’ll kiss you in other places,” I teased.

She gave out a little mewling sound that made my body thrum even more. Her morning sickness had passed, and in her second trimester she had become a quivering mess of desire. She’d been the same with Henry.

Before our morning activities could go any farther, however, two small bodies hurled themselves onto the bed. Ten year old Alice, all gangly arms and legs, sent Emma and I sprawling apart as she wedged herself between us. Three year old Henry crawled over his mother, dragging his favorite stuffed bear behind him. Emma laughed and rolled over, cuddling Henry close.

“You two still don’t understand how late we have to work sometimes,” I grumbled.

Next to me, Emma only laughed more brightly as she tickled Henry’s tummy. The boy wriggled away, crawling over his big sister who complained loudly as she swatted at him, then straddled me and started bouncing as if I were a horse.

“But we’re supposed to go riding today, Papa,” Alice reminded me, “you promised.”

“She’s got you there,” Emma put in.

“Horsey, horsey, horsey!” Henry cheered, bouncing even more enthusiastically. “Horsey, Papa!”

“I didn’t mean in the morning,” I moaned.

“It isn’t morning,” Alice countered, “I just made me and Henry peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. It’s after noon already.”

Emma slid up against the headboard and opened her arms for Alice. The girl grinned and cuddled up next to her mother, a sight that would never fail to warm my heart. Emma ran her fingers through Alice’s hair while our daughter rested her hand against the swell of her mother’s stomach. Suddenly, Alice gasped.

“She kicked me!”

“She did!” Emma exulted, resting her hand next to Alice’s. “She must want to say hello to her big sister.”

Alice grinned and leaned over Emma’s stomach. “Hello, Hope, I can’t wait to meet you. We’ll have so much fun playing together.”

Emma’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she caught my gaze, but I knew they were happy ones. The same joy she felt was flooding my own heart. Our family came about in a crazy way, but we were more than blessed with what we’d built together.

***********************************************************

Emma and I walked slowly across the grass, hand in hand. Ahead of us, Alice and Henry raced to the corral. They scrambled up the fence to lean forward and feed the horses carrots they had brought. Their Uncle Liam and Aunt Elsa were on the other side to greet them, their two year old cousin Ian astride a dappled pony. The curly headed boy had a tiny helmet strapped to his head, making an absolutely adorable picture.

Next to me, Emma sighed in contentment as she wrapped her arms around my waist. I lowered my head to brush a kiss to her golden hair. The picture in front of us: our family, the horses, the mountains in the distance, and the bright spring sunshine filled my chest with unexplainable joy. I looked down into Emma’s face; her emerald eyes sparkling in the early afternoon light.

“I love you more than I could ever say,” she told me.

I turned her towards me and cupped her face in my hands. “Emma, you are more precious to me than all the treasure in this world. I have my happy ending now because of you.”

She shook her head gently. “That isn’t what this is.”

My brow furrowed. “It’s not?”

“It’s a happy beginning.”

I lowered my face to kiss her deeply, knowing down to my very soul the truth of her words.

[artificialqueens]

(I Can Still Recall) Our Last Summer - Chapter Five (Group Fic) - pureCAMP

A/N - deepest apologies for the shalaska drought :)))

jk, jk. this one is sharon/willam so it doesn’t count… and there are only two chapters left so hold ur breath!!

real talk, show some love and hang in there!! i have a half written update for in sickness and in health being worked on right now and a three part au shalaska in the works, as well as all my other fics on the go that will be updated once these next ones are done. i’m still here and i’m still going!! encouragement is. well. encouraged.

The dressing room had finally been restored to its usual state of peace and calm. Ironically enough, the usual peace that the dressing room could call normal was a state of absolute chaos, with clothing and makeup strewn all over the place, and three drunk girls giggling in front of mirrors. It was worth remembering that the so-called dressing room was actually a small room once used as a storage cupboard behind the stage, with a couple of mirrors and three screens to give them a little privacy in case someone walked in.

For the past few shows, the mood in the makeshift dressing room had been quite sombre. Sharon had been quieter, a little more closed off, her performances more lacklustre than usual. She hadn’t realized what an effect she’d had on the room, but now, in her cheerier mood, things had returned to normal.

Raja, who was still half-naked but with a full face of makeup on, was doing poor karaoke into a makeup brush as Jinkx looked on, fully dressed with half an eyebrow painted on and not much else. Somehow, at the sight of her friends being uplifted by her own better mood, Sharon felt brighter. She laughed at their antics, teasing her hair up with a comb and trying not to choke on the hairspray fumes.

“Jesus fuck, this place needs windows.” She coughed. “Does this look done?”

Raja stopped singing to inspect her friend’s hair. “Yeah, it’s done. Special effort tonight? Any reason? Dick, maybe?”

Sharon gasped, affronted. “Raja! I’m debuting a brand new look for a brand new song, if you must know. It’s a new era.”

Nodding, Jinkx swung around in her chair, now with a second eyebrow. “A new Sharon who won’t take anybody’s shit and doesn’t cry over boys.”

“Hear, hear!” Raja raised her wine glass, ignoring the fact that it was empty. “Tonight is gonna be great.”

If you insist, Sharon thought to herself, before she could stop it. Bad Sharon. You need a better mental attitude than that. 

It was going to be a good night. So what if she had been left reeling by Justin? He was gone now, probably married or safely tucked up in his fianc��e’s arms. There was nothing Sharon could do about that besides feel heartbroken. She was strong - her friends had known it all along. Tonight was about her, and the girls, and not a single boy was going to mess up her life again. 

If anything, she had learnt from them… right? Justin, sweet, deceptive Justin, had taught her about trust and heartbreak. Jaremi had taught her that maybe no-strings-attached didn’t work for her, considering she still had to quell the urge to become affectionate towards him. Overall, it had been bad, but she was learning. 

Did that mean she was going to make the same mistake with Willam?

Maybe. 

He was attractive, after all - in a mischievous way, all floppy blonde hair and too-white teeth and cocked eyebrows. His demeanor was as if the world had been created just for him, and he could do whatever he liked with it. Sharon admired his confidence. Knowing he was at the taverna, waiting for them to come on stage, gave her a little thrill. 

Don’t do it again, Sharon. Don’t make the same mistake three times.

There was a pretty good turnout in the taverna that evening; Maria had clearly been around all day, hollering about the show. The residents of the island were fond of their few entertainment sources, especially The Supermodels. There hadn’t been any time to make posters as they normally would, but it seemed word of mouth had been enough. Every table was full, and some people were standing, holding their drinks and chatting as they eagerly awaited the show.

Sharon’s eyes found Willam immediately as they stepped on stage, assuming their usual positions. He was sat close to the old woman who had been with him at church, one arm lazily draped over the back of her chair. The excitement of performing a new song again, coupled with the adrenaline rush of feeling Willam’s gaze on her body, made Sharon feel utterly short of breath. Somehow she knew this would be one of her most explosive performances yet.

The music started. A few people gasped in excitement.

“Last night, I was taking a walk along the river, and I saw him together with a young girl…”

The inevitable nervousness dissipated as Sharon heard Jinkx joining in, her voice uniquely strong and powerful, followed by Raja’s deep, melodious harmony. Part of her wished that the three of them could stay on the island forever, making a living out of performing, forever remaining in the little safety bubble of music. It made her almost angry - yes, angry - that they would be leaving her too.

For once, she didn’t veer away from that thought, instead channelling her anger into the song. It was essentially a fuck you to how easily she had fallen, and how easy it was to do the same thing again (and again.) It was better to let it out now, on stage with people dancing and cheering, than to consign it into passive aggressive letters for the next few months.

Just this one last time, Sharon let herself wallow in her feelings as she sang. Justin had left her and it fucking hurt. Jaremi was just using her because she was letting him. Her own mother had slapped her time and time again, unable to stand her daughter’s failures. Her two best friends - her two only friends - would be gone in a matter of weeks, leaving her alone. It was all worth being angry over.

“You’ll think you’re in paradise…”

As the song drew to an end, Sharon found herself flooded with a mixture of emotions, her mood swinging suddenly from angry to relieved, grateful and beyond ecstatic. She clung to Jinkx and Raja, out of breath and sweaty, as the appreciative cheering and clapping rewarded them for their efforts.

“God, I love you two.” Sharon whispered, completely breathless. Jinkx kissed her cheek, and Raja pulled them into a tighter embrace.

The three of them stayed like that, holding onto one another as if they were going to collapse, until the collective euphoria from the music had died down. The patrons went back to their drinks and conversations, smiling at the girls as they went past, some offering kind words. At the first attractive man, Raja slipped away to flirt.

“Ah, your blonde is here.” Jinkx grinned, pointing over to Willam as though Sharon hadn’t noticed. “Go on, go secure your rebound boy. I’ll be here scouring for the lesbians, so I’ll be fine.”

She patted Sharon on the shoulder, her face a picture of playfulness. “Oh, her outfit is hideous. I bet she’s gay. See you later!”

The universe was practically forcing it to happen. There was definitely no getting away from Willam, that was for sure. It seemed written into the fucking stars. At least this time, Sharon reasoned with herself, she knew exactly what her mistake was. It was the universe’s fault that she was making it.

Willam patted the spare seat next to him. Coincidentally, he had ordered a drink for his great grandmother Pat, and she didn’t like it, but it just so happened to be Sharon’s favourite, so she just had to sit and drink it. It was just courtesy, after all. Goddamned universe, trying to be subtle.

“Sharon, I love you in this outfit. It’s very tight.” Was his opening line, as he pushed the drink towards her.

Thankfully, she caught it deftly before it could be swept off the table. “Thanks… It’s supposed to be.”

Pat laughed. “I like this one! I wish I could’ve worn these kind of things, back in my day. Very chic!”

“Oh, so you’re both fashionistas?” Sharon asked, sipping her drink. “Gotta love that. Anyway, I can’t stay long, but…” She grinned. “I’ll finish this first. I gotta make sure my ride home doesn’t leave me.”

Willam placed a hand on her thigh. Sharon tried not to shiver.

“You could always stay with me. Spend the night.”

Emboldened by the stage high, Sharon cackled with laughter. “Oh, you wish! Nah, I’m in deep shit. I majorly pissed off my mom.”

“The church bitch.” Pat said darkly. Her sinister tone caught both Sharon and Willam unawares, sending them both into a fit of laughter that somehow ended with the two of them leaning on each other for support. Willam was warm. She could feel muscles under his shirt. Shake it off, Sharon.

“Oh, everyone at that place fucking loves her, but I don’t.” Pat continued. “She’s a nasty bitch if I ever saw one.”

There was something strangely hilarious about such an old woman, shrivelled into her early nineties, being so catty. Sharon agreed wholeheartedly with every word that came out of her little puckered mouth. She had the same bright white smile as Willam, even at her age, which made her incredibly endearing.

“She always calls me by my proper name, too. Cow. I tell everyone I’m Pat, and she goes Patricia in her smug little voice that she has. Ghastly woman. I’m sorry you have her as a mother.”

Sharon raised her glass for a cheers. “I’m sorry I have her as a mother too,” She laughed, clinking glasses with Pat. Willam leant over and pushed Pat’s glass away from her, smile lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. “Maybe we should change your name to Trixie.”

Pat laughed. “Ha! I’m far too old for a young girl’s name like that. I bet your mother would call it a whore name. Maybe I will, out of spite.”

“I think you’ve had enough, Granny Pat. Two vodkas is your limit, we all know what happened at Christmas.”

He mimed some horrific dancing as Sharon finished her drink, trying not to splutter it everywhere. Pat, to her credit, was completely unembarrassed - if anything, there was a twinkle of amusement in her eye.

Sharon gathered the now-empty glasses towards the front of the table as Willam helped Pat up, wrapping an arm round her to lead her out. Between the two of them, it was easy to manoeuver an elderly lady towards the exit, and easier still to talk once they were outside. The pavilion outside the taverna and the shore below them both seemed deserted, the island residents either packed into the taverna, or tucked up into their beds. The sun was just starting to dip beneath the ocean.

“You sure you’re not coming with us?” Willam offered again. “I have several ulterior motives lined up, but I’m a respectful man, so sleeping is one of them.”

Sharon giggled. “I’m okay, honestly. I’m weirdly tired, I just want to go home and sleep for forever. But thank you.”

Willam saluted. “Any time, any time at all. See ya tomorrow, probably.”

He waited until Sharon had started to make her descent to the shore before he began helping Pat up to wherever her home was. Sharon could hear him singing, loudly parodying “Look into her angel thighs, one lick and you’re hypnotized…” for at least half of her journey down. She chuckled to herself, resigning herself to the fact that her next run-in with him would probably end the way most of her male encounters did these days - with a throaty gasp.

-

Down at the docks, Sharon sat on the very edge of the pier, letting her feet dangle into the gentle waves. Jaremi’s boat was nowhere to be seen, but he was often late. Most likely he was wrapped up with some girl, having lost track of time. He would squeeze Sharon into his embrace, which she would gladly fall into, and then she would smell the girl’s perfume all over him.

The sex was as present as ever, but as Sharon grew more disconnected, Jaremi seemed to grow more distant. She suspected that Jaremi was bored of her, and the variety of perfumes he smelt of only served to prove her theory. She just pretended it didn’t sting, and stared out at the ocean until it was time to go home.

Sharon watched as the sun sunk lower and lower, feeling the air grow chilly around her. It wasn’t often that the island felt cold, and at such an inauspicious time she was thankless for the breeze. An hour passed, and she pulled her feet out of the now freezing water, curling into a ball and shivering a little.

She waited. The waves got rougher.

A second hour passed. Not a single wave went undisturbed by the motion of a boat.

Naively, or perhaps stupidly, Sharon clung to the hope that Jaremi just hadn’t realized the time. He knew that he always collected Sharon, to sail her home before going off to do whatever he did in the small hours of the night. She relied on him for that. It was their unspoken deal. He wouldn’t just leave her sit on the pier and freeze all night, would he?

Her teeth chattered. She kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, rubbing ineffectually at her frozen arms and legs to try and get a little bit of warmth.

Finally, after a few more minutes of waiting, a person appeared, traipsing along the sand. She didn’t recognise the woman other than knowing her as one of the locals, and it was a relief just to see another person after so long staring at sea and sky.

“Hi, sorry… Have you seen Jaremi? Carey, the explorer? I’ve been waiting for him all night.” She rubbed at her arms once again, and felt no improvement.

The woman frowned. “You mean no one told you?”

Sharon’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach. “What?”

“He’s gone.” She said bluntly. “Sailed off this morning, maybe three or four. Back to his travelling again.”

Though it was difficult, Sharon tried not to look as though she felt like she’d been hit by a bus. She swallowed the lump in her throat, ignoring how strained her voice sounded. “O-Oh. Okay. No problem.”

Huge problem.

The woman went on her way, offering a weakly sympathetic smile before getting further and further away along the beach. 

For another half an hour, Sharon simply sat and continued to watch the sea, reeling from the shock of his sudden departure. As it grew colder, she realized that something had to be done, lest she freeze in the night out on the dock. She tried to consider her options, now that she was essentially stranded.

There were no more boats running from the island to the mainland; it was too late now. There wouldn’t be another until six the following morning, and that was far too long to wait.

She could sleep in the little cabin on the shore, but that wasn’t ideal. It was a rough night, the sea beginning to churn angrily as it got colder. The cabins weren’t exactly built to be safe in that kind of weather, and she’d spend the night terrified and cold in the bed, fearing that the cabin might collapse on her. Of course, it didn’t help that her cabin was where she had lost her virginity to Justin, who was no longer keeping her safe…

The shack at the top of the island was the safest bet she had, but Sharon ruled that one out too. For some reason, she had been struck with a wave of exhaustion that had burrowed right into her bones. Even now, petrified and bitterly cold, she felt on the verge of falling asleep. It was unusual for her - normally she was a bit of an insomniac, able to stay awake for hours on end. She knew that tonight especially, given how tired she was, that she would never be able to drag herself up to the top.

That left… nothing. 

Whether it was the cold, the fear, or something else entirely, Sharon felt sick. Before she could even think, the urge became too overwhelming, and she leant over the edge of the pier to vomit - just as a hand tapped her shoulder.

When she was done, she sniffed in embarrassment and turned to see who had tapped her. To her surprise, Willam was stood behind her, his brow furrowed in concern and confusion. He looked as though he was being ripped apart by the extreme change in weather, his shirt whipping in the gale.

“Are you okay? It’s fucking freezing out here!” He shouted over the wind. Sharon hadn’t realized how ferociously it had picked up, but her hair was flapping wildly around her face. “I thought you said you had a ride?”

Wordlessly, Sharon took Willam’s outstretched hand and managed to pull herself up, shivering violently. He pulled her close, opening up his coat to try and squeeze her into it along with him. It was a sweet gesture, even if the coat was as cold as Sharon herself. She appreciated the kindness.

“I-I did!” Sharon tried, her throat hoarse. “Turns out he l-left this morning and didn’t t-tell me. I need to g-get home!”

Willam began stroking her hair, murmuring quiet words of comfort. Although the wind tore the words away before Sharon could hear them, just the soothing tone of his voice was enough to help calm her panic. Everything was going to be okay. Even if her mom was going to go insane, everything would be alright for now. Willam was going to help her.

“I have a boat, okay?” Willam said, louder so he could be heard. “We’ll get you home, it’s gonna be alright. Stay with me, you’re okay.”

-

Everything else was a blur. Sharon, hunched and shivering but now draped in Willam’s coat, focused on making sure she wasn’t going to be sick again as she was bundled around. A man she didn’t recognise was untying Willam’s boat, and Willam himself was gently leading her inside. She couldn’t seem to take any of it in.

Thank the fucking lord for the interior of the boat. It was much grander than Jaremi’s, and warmer - that was all Sharon cared about. She allowed herself to be tucked up, slowly given water to sip, and warmed in one of the beds. Willam didn’t leave her side for a moment.

As the boat began to sail out, Willam sat down and smiled softly. “Goddammit, Sharon. I’m not supposed to show you my soft side yet. You’re supposed to think I’m effortlessly cool and hilarious first. Then I seduce you, we fuck and then I show you my soft side. Then, of course, I find out you’re far too much for me to handle and our tragic love affair ends there.”

He smiled again as Sharon laughed. “But seriously. You can have anything you need from me, I’ve got you. You ever need a lift home, or somewhere to stay, I got your back. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Starting to feel better, Sharon handed Willam his coat back and shifted into a sitting position, her legs covered by a thick blanket. He took the coat and balled it up, throwing it as far as he could just to make her laugh again. Her stomach settled, Sharon obliged.

“You have a great laugh. I could fall in love with that laugh.”

“I’d be careful. I’m a minefield.” Sharon told him, grinning. “You heard the song tonight. You know I’ve got baggage.”

Willam nodded. “Is the asshole who left you here the asshole in the song?”

Sharon shook her head.

“Yikes. You really have been fucked over.” Willam cringed. “Anything I can do to help?”

Don’t do it, Sharon. Don’t cave. Don’t make the same fucking mistake again, you know it’s wrong. Don’t give in.

“Get your shirt off and get over here.”

Goddammit, universe.

-

When Sharon woke up, she felt warm. It was a comfortable, familiar kind of warm - the kind of warmth that comes from the body of a lover, cuddling up close. As her foggy vision began to sharpen, she zeroed in on the handsome face of Willam, just above her. She was nestled into his chest, still naked, apparently having grown fond of him in her slumber. Making no effort to move, she closed her eyes once again, willing sleep to find her.

“I know you’re awake.” Came Willam’s voice, gruff with sleep.

Sharon didn’t react. “That’s nice.”

He laughed, his bronze chest juddering up and down, and snaked an arm around her, shifting her even closer than before. Sharon sighed contentedly and let him.

“Didn’t you say your mom was gonna be super mad at you?”

“She always is,” Sharon dismissed sleepily. “It’s not like it matters.”

Contrary to her expectations, spending the night with Willam hadn’t made Sharon’s heart tighten with that familiar, aching lust. If anything, she just felt close to him - the same way she felt after spilling her emotions to Raja or Jinkx. He felt safe, trustworthy even. He didn’t set her on fire like Justin had.

Nobody else ever could.

“Alright…” Willam drawled lazily. “So if I hop into the shower, with the premium deluxe pressure and more than enough room for another person, she wouldn’t mind if you joined me?”

Sharon smiled. “She wouldn’t ever have to know…”

She sat up and began to laugh slightly. “What the fuck is premium deluxe pressure?”

“Come find out.”

-

For most of the following week, as Raja and Jinkx grew busier with preparing for their rapidly-encroaching departure, Sharon found herself spending her time with Willam and his charismatic grandma. It was nice to be around a family that just seemed normal - not overly wrapped up in themselves and their romance, as was the case with Raja’s parents. Pat was old and could move very little, but she swore and drank like a sailor, and it made for some interesting times. Willam, of course, helped.

It seemed more than anything that, despite their frequent rendez-vous, Willam was becoming a close friend. Their nature was more like a friendship than anything else - the sexual chemistry masked by their natural rapport. It was as if they’d been friends.

“It’s been a fucking nightmare trying to find support here, honestly.” Pat was saying, a glass of brandy sitting on the table before her. “Nobody wants to help a sweet little old lady these days.”

Willam snorted. “Sweet. Oh, what delusion.”

Sharon laughed. “Shut up! Let her be old and sad!”

Pat raised her glass in solidarity, her hands trembling but her resolve firm. Willam downed his as though it was a shot and shrugged.

“Why don’t you just die? Cheaper and easier for everyone involved, including you.” He suggested.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Pat replied dryly, sending them both into fits of laughter. “Not for me. I’ll pay a ton if it means someone will come and fuckin’ help me that isn’t you, Bill.”

For as much as they were joking, Sharon sympathised with the old lady. She loved the island more than anything else in her life - she couldn’t imagine life without it. A life unable to look out across its views, taking in the beach and the fresh sea-salt air; that wasn’t a life at all, really. She hoped somebody would be available to come and care for Pat.

As Willam got up, gathering their glasses and leaving the room, Pat turned on Sharon. There was a glimmer in her eye, a kindly smile on her face. Even though she had only met her just a week ago, Sharon felt insanely grateful for her presence in her tumultuous life.

“He’s off next week, I’m sure he told you. Chasing his fortune in LA. He’ll miss you, of course.”

Sharon nodded. “I’m sure I’ll miss him too.”

The conversation had happened the night before, as they lay naked on top of one another - although Sharon left that detail out of her mind when she was with Pat. Willam, never one to hide anything, had come clean about his time on the island.

“I had to make sure she was okay. We were hoping to find someone to care for her, but if she has to go into assisted living then that’s that.” He held Sharon close. “It’s a shame, though.”

“Yeah…” Sharon agreed, not sure what else to say. “She seems like such a free spirit.”

Willam emitted his seal-laugh, the one that always made Sharon crack up. “She likes free spirits, I know that for certain. But yeah - I’ll be leaving soon. Five days.”

He stretched. “You have five days to enjoy this luscious body of mine before I go back to LA. I’m an actor over there.”

At least she had a little bit of a warning. Unlike Justin, who she was sure might’ve stayed, or Jaremi, who had left without a second thought, Willam had given her time. He was the first to think that far ahead, she assumed.

Not wanting her message to be misconstrued, Sharon gently tugged the duvet covers, trying to preserve some of her modesty before she spoke. She had always found it difficult to articulate anything just after sex, so it took her a little while to think of what she wanted to say.

“Look… Willam… without sitting here and talking about all the different ways my heart has been broken recently, I just want to say this. My friends are leaving soon and I don’t want everything to fall apart and leave me here missing you. So… can we not do a goodbye?”

She chewed her lip. “I mean, I’ll say goodbye to you. We can hug and I’ll see you off and whatever, that’s fine. But I don’t want any of the promises to keep in touch or visit, none of that awkward hanging on to something that doesn’t matter. I don’t want to know if I meant anything to you, or how much. I just want it to be over when it’s over, and we both know that it’s gonna be over. Is that- is that okay?”

Sharon expected that meeting his eyes would be awkward. He would look at her like she was broken, some kind of delicate flower he needed to treat gently. In the worst case scenario, his eyes would be filled with pity.

She looked up. Willam was smiling - not kindly, not sympathetically - just normally. “Sure. No goodbyes here. Nada. None.”

“Alright. Okay. Good.”

Willam laughed. “You have a massive hickey right by your nipple. I can’t be serious anymore, that’s so funny. Look at it!”

It had gone better than she thought it would.

“I’ll be fine.” Sharon dismissed it. “I’m a big girl, I can cope without a boy.”

Pat clapped her wrinkled hands. “That’s it, sweetheart! Atta girl. A life without men in it does wonders for your complexion, anyway. You won’t get stress lines if you don’t have a walking stress, bugging you for orgasms every ten minutes.”

Sharon howled with laughter. She suspected that maybe Pat was right.

-

Sex and laughter. That was how Sharon summed up her final week with Willam.

They had sex, they laughed, they sang. It was a blur of mindless fun that meant nothing to either of them. The two of them had grown close, three including Pat, but Willam had to leave. It was okay. Sharon had had ample time to prepare to be properly alone, and she didn’t mind so much anymore.

At the dock was the last place she saw him. He was stood next to his boat, the very ship he had taken her on when she was cold and in need. It would be taking him to somewhere in the middle of Europe, where he would then catch a first class flight back to LA - with the same sunshine, but less paradisiacal whimsy. 

He was just standing there, looking pretty. Sharon crossed her arms.

“I guess this is goodbye?” Willam said, the cheeky grin on his face only highlighting just how clearly he remembered the post-coital promise he had made.

Sharon scowled. “Fuck off, Willam. I don’t do goodbyes. I’m an all or nothing kind of girl.”

Slowly becoming serious, Willam touched a bruise on his neck and softened. “Don’t I know it. So I’ll be seeing you?”

At Sharon’s raised eyebrow, he started to giggle. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I know. It’s over.”

“Yeah.” Sharon nodded. “Probably not. But for what it’s worth, have a nice life.”

He grinned. “You too. You deserve it. I mean that.”

Things were verging into dangerous territory. Sharon told him, in no uncertain terms, to shut up, and he did.

Then he was on the boat, waving.

Then he was gone.

[quietlysatan]

Year Three: The Year of Reconnection - Lady Angel (dameange) AO3

Link: Here!!

Rating: T

Favorite Quote(s): Okay, that’s valid Severus

When he saw who was in the office, he turned right back around.

Albus is just,,,, really fucking tired of your shit Severus

“I believe you know our new DADA teacher for this year?” The old man had to be laughing at him, had to be torturing him for amusement, there was no other explanation for it.

Severus chose to remain silent.

“Severus, do we have the ingredients to brew the wolfsbane potion?”

He mentally cursed, using every word, phrase, and expletive he knew. His face remained impassive as he nodded.

“Excellent!” The old man actually clapped. “Then it won’t be difficult for you to brew the potion once a month for Remus.” The old man peered at him over those ridiculous half-moon spectacles. “Will it, Severus?”

He moved his head an inch to the left then an inch to the right.

“Good, good.” Albus shooed them both away. “I’m sure you boys have plenty to do before the students come back tomorrow.”

References to previous installments are always a plus

Thankfully, due to his efforts from the previous year, very few of those who had understood the boggart’s words spread tales. Those who did were quickly shut down by others who liked Harbin and were grateful to him for suggesting the extracurricular activities that were being continued this year. Sometime during the summer, someone had found out that Harbin had been the one to suggest the activities to the headmaster, and thus the popularity of the activities had spread to include Harbin. And his friends in Slytherin, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw were making doubly sure to quell any more talk of that DADA lesson.

Familial support is Always a plus

Harbin was grateful, of course, but did not truly feel better until he had snuck away during lunch to use the enchanted cell phone that Gavin and Professor Flitwick had charmed. While electronics would not work in or around Hogwarts, Gavin had figured out a way for the phone to work with the professor’s help. His call to his parents, after confessing about his fears, had well and truly soothed his nerves. He came back to the Great Hall in much better spirits and it seemed to relieve his friends. To show them his thanks, he kissed each of the girls on the cheek (Hermione took it as her due, Ginny had blushed, and Luna had kissed his cheek in return) and shook Ron and Neville’s hands. Draco, of course, he hugged.

I wonder what it’d feel like to have this sort of support from someone who I chose, and, someone who chose me in turn...

Draco leaned against Pansy, feeling her fingers carding through his hair, messing it up, but he didn’t care. On his other side, Hermione was leaning against Ron. Neville was sandwiched between Ginny and Luna. Every single one of them was silent as they waited for their friend to wake up. Pansy was here more for him than Harbin and Draco was grateful.

This is just really sweet...

“Come, my lions.” Her smile was stern, but loving. Like some kind of benevolent dictator. “And you, young raveness.”

This is really sweet in a Slytherin sort of way...

Tea and scones assuaged hunger he didn’t even realize he had, but when he started blinking sleepily, when he saw the way the others were also blinking and listing to the side, he knew. “You drugged us.”

“Of course.”

Sweet dungeon bat who cares despite what he says

Severus did not want to answer that question. His godson was too young to be asking such questions, too young to be thinking about such things. He could still remember when Draco had first been born and Narcissa had asked him to be there when she gave birth. He remembered seeing the pale pink, wrinkly thing that had screamed his lungs out when the healer had cast the lung clearing spell. He remembered seeing Narcissa coo over the little gnome and Lucius beaming with pride. It hadn't been until later, at Draco's naming and inheritance ritual, that Severus saw the boy that would be become his godson and actually cared about his future. It had been the moment clear silver-blue eyes had latched onto his dark ones and held them without fear. Out of sheer curiosity, Severus had cast the most gentle legilimens he could. The baby's mind was filled with images of his life: the smile of his mother, the strong hands of his father, the flopping ears of the house elf that played nursemaid. But it was the shock of seeing his own eyes and nose in those memories that caught him unawares. The child had already imprinted on him.

And now that child was growing into a young man whose feelings for his best friend were starting to grow, mature, into something Severus was not ready to handle. He idly wished for one of Draco's parents to be here. "You are both young. There is no reason for there to be more."

Words & Chapter(s):  24,355 words, one-shot

Summary: An escaped prisoner brings a connection from Harbin's past. And secrets to light.

(Remember, in this series Harry was raised by French diplomats, and they changed his name to Harbin, or Hari for short.)

Score: 13 ofc, this whole series is a 13, and I can’t wait to get it all up

Pairing(s): Eventual Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter does not happen until entry four of the series, Wolfstar!!!

Background Sophie Chevalier/Uncle Jonah/Yves Chevalier

Eventual Wolfstar(!!!)

Hinted possible eventual Severus Snape/Gavin Gresham (OMC who’s pretty freaking awesome, and hella likable)

Warning(s): FOR TRANSLATION OF THE FRENCH, HOVER YOUR CURSOR. A TRANSLATION WILL APPEAR.

Now that that’s outta the way, Hari Versus Dementors still happens y’all, except they notice the fall a little later, and Hari ends up in a magical coma regrowing his bones for a bit, nothing to gruesome HP-Canon verse wise

Mentions of canon Mauraders era actions, i.e the anomosity between Snape and The Mauraders

Severus intends to obliviate dangerous information from Draco and Hermione

Manipulation for a good cause

Temporary character catotnia???? The Dementors get Severus and Sirius, but they’re fine I swear!!!

The Quidditch match happens, but no worries, everyone you love is perfectly fine!!!

Pros: “He could withstand the Dark Lord’s rages. He could withstand Albus’ ridiculous efforts to socialize him. He could withstand years of humiliation dealt at the hands of the Mauraders. But he could not withstand sweet pleas for noble help from such beseeching eyes.” This is something I truly love about this fic, Hari is the Epitome of everything Slytherin and gods does it show, every time, always, it’s truly refreshing and particularly lovely to see

Anyways, since I’ve probably ranted about about my love of this fic enough I won’t repeat myself much more, it’s just that this is literally one of my favorite books that I’ve ever read in my life and I’ve read SEVERAL THOUSAND stories. This one I don’t think I’ll ever truly move past as it just grabs me in a way few other stories have, and yes I’ve rated it 13, and every fic with that rating is something I either would, or more likely already have, read again, but this one is, special ya’know? It means something to me, and I’m really happy to share it with all of you.

Gif Aesthetic: Severus,  upon seeing Remus, without hesitation

Severus upon seeing Snuffles Noir without hesitation

Severus, every time Hari and/or Draco give him The Look

Hari, plotting and taking charge of the entire school yet again, without hesitation.

Everyone, well aware of what’s happening here, and happily going along with it

Everyone @ Hari

Hari @ everyone

[paradisobound]

The End is Also the Beginning

Summary: It’s the end of the Mumbai show. Although Dan is bittersweet with endings, Phil knows that he’s going to make their show not only the ending to an era, but the beginning to a new one as well. 

Written for the @phandomficfests: Tour Fest! 

Word Count: 1.2k 

Rating: Teen

Warnings: This fic contains Interactive Introverts spoilers! 

This work is a side by side fic with @phloridas fic that can be found here :)

A/N: I’m super excited to share this with everyone since I really wanted to do a cheesy fic like this for the fic fest! haha Special thanks to my lovely group chat and to @moon-boye, @knlalla, @freckliephil, and @laddyplester for all being great beta’s for this fic and nit-picking it just enough to make this fic amazing in the end! Thank you all again! :) 

It’s been nearly five months since their tour had begun, and there was so much that had happened in those five months that made a lifetime of memories from them. They started in Brighton, just a short distance from their home city, and now they’re about to perform their last show in Mumbai. To say it was bittersweet would be a complete understatement.

The tour itself wasn’t bittersweet, but the ending of this chapter of their lives was. Dan had felt the sadness and post-tour-depression woes  to dawn on him as soon as they touched down in Mumbai. After today, there would be no more constant shows. No more meeting fans all of the time. No more performances. No more Interactive Introverts.

The thought made him sad.

When they had started planning Interactive Introverts, it seemed like a far-fetched idea that would never work. They had been just lying in bed that day, post-sex (but no one needed to know that), when Phil spewed out the words ‘I wanna do another tour’. They brainstormed random and silly ideas back and forth with each other until Dan had jokingly said ‘maybe we should just ask our audience what they would want’. Nearly instantly, the tour was born.

When the tour started, it was bumpy. They made a few slip ups, like being caught in the fact that they made the London show and the Glasgow show exactly the same. And also the time Dan fell on his ass on his stage and nearly cried. Or when Dan was on the wheel being sacrificed and he called Phil a ‘dick’ in front of the audience of their young viewers and some parents. And then there was also that one time where Dan forgot his lines, laughed, and then snorted into the microphone (turns out some viewers had filmed that, cheeky little shits).

But now, they’re in the interval for their last show and Dan is feeling it in his chest. The weight of how this was the last time they’d be performing the second half of the show was heavy. He was gearing up to be on the wheel—like he’d been for majority of these shows—and he was zipping up the plastic suit. Phil was stood back, scrolling on his phone and looking at all of the tags for the show, checking out what everyone was saying.

“Apparently, everyone is loving the fact that you got to be a furry in the simulation portion.”

Dan scoffed. “Ha. Ha. Very funny that my tail got caught in the door and I slipped and died. Very. Unfortunate.”

Phil chuckled, doing his weird tongue thingy that Dan loved so much, even though he liked to pick on it as well. “At least you didn’t end up in hell with the danandphilcrafts version of yourself.”

“Hm…don’t know. I’ve probably got a golden seat embellished with my name already waiting for me down there.”

In the background, the beginning of The Final Countdown started playing and Dan sighed. Show time. He needed to get up on the wheel…for the last time.

* * *

It was getting to be the end of the show. Dan was poised at his piano behind the screen as Phil finished up his diss track. He had his fingers already sitting on the keys so he could start playing as soon as Phil said his cue.

Then he heard it.

The screen opens and there is smoke: Dan always did want to make a dramatic entrance. As he begins to play, he sees Phil stood there on the side of the stage, his backwards cap making him look like a dork. But he was Dan’s dork.

He begins to sing. He thinks his voice is trembling slightly and he hopes no one else can hear it. These lyrics mean a lot to him. They’re the story of he and Phil and he likes being able to tell people about it.

He continues to sing, people are laughing, some are singing along. He can hear it all and it’s making him emotional that this is the last time he’ll ever sing this song for others. Then he stops and looks up for a split second to Phil sitting on the piano.

He loves how Phil glows in this light, so calm and so poised as he watches him.

Dan loves him so much.

And then it’s their duet. Dan knows that they’re not in sync, nor are they harmonised. But he stills loves singing along with Phil. He always has. Even when they’re in their kitchen and singing along to the songs of Mamma Mia at three AM while wine drunk.

And then the duet is over, and people are clapping and cheering. And everything is done. It’s over. They’re over. The show is over. Dan feels like he could cry. Maybe he is? He feels kind of numb right now.

But then the cheering stops and there are some gasps coming from the audience. He’s confused. Why is that? Did something set on fire? He doesn’t smell smoke.

He looks around because he’s honestly confused until he sees it and his hands come up to his mouth in shock. In front of him, there was Phil, on one knee, with a black velvet box opened to show a beautiful black band glimmering under the light.

“Dan, I’ve been wanting to do this for so long and I have been struggling to find the correct time.” He hears Phil begin. “We’ve become more open and we’ve agreed that we wanted to make ourselves more known and our relationship more visible. That was the whole point of our lives this past year, right? I’ve loved you since I first met you, and I’ve known for these past ten years that I wanted to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you.” Phil’s voice was now choked up, and Dan could feel some stray tears coming down his cheeks as well. “Will you marry me?”

Dan’s answer is immediate. It comes out a little bit choked but he manages a “yes!” pretty quickly before sliding off his piano seat and throwing his arms around Phil. They don’t kiss because he isn’t ready to show that level of PDA yet. But they do hold each other as the audience cheers and whistles. He lets Phil place the ring on his finger and it’s a little bit big, but they’ll worry about the resizing later.

He looks down and he’s in shock. The black band stands out against his complexion and he has no words. As he stands up, with Phil beside him, they wave their goodbyes to the fans and Dan can’t help but stare at the glimmering black on his left ring finger. As they stand in the back, waiting for the screen to close, he takes Phil’s hand in his and he smiles widely.

This is definitely an end of an era for them, but it’s also the beginning of a more amazing one as well. Up next: house shopping, wedding planning, and dog adopting.

But that can wait after they spend the next few days in a haze of love as they travel around Mumbai.