#please imagine me standing to the side of this post like will smith

[thedeluluverse]

POSTING IT EARLY!!

Author’s Note: So happy to finally get this out there! BIGGEST thanks to my bestie @starfire21, as this is mainly her baby; I just wrote it down, hehe. I hope y’all like it, and please let me know what y’all think! Until next time, lovelies! <3 Also here is the link for Part 1 so you can get additional info :)

Summary: A talented saber smith’s life changes forever when the Sith crosses her path as she attempts to reform the corrupt government she serves. Will they be a help or a hindrance?

Pairing:  Sith!Wooyoung x femjedi/sabersmith!Y/N. Other kpop idols in the story, but the main relationship is between Woo and Y/N.

Rating: 18+

Genre:  angst, fantasy, kpop, smut, fluff

Word Count: 5,703

Warnings:  verbal abuse/bullying kind of all around, mentions of attempted suicide, abandonment and self-worth issues, HJ kinda bipolar and entitled/creepy, bisexual suffering, oral (m. receiving), tit play, clit play, p in v raw sex (don’t do this irl y’all), slight mentions of kink

While Wooyoung is busy trying to decide whether to go out of his way to a farther shop or enlist the help of Y/N to fix his saber, Y/N is eating breakfast and informing Huyang of the previous night’s events.

They both agree that Winter’s attack seems quite random, as they have no personal strife with the Sith and have only met her once.

Huyang suggests they both lie low and not make any far treks unless absolutely necessary for at least a few days in case their lives are in jeopardy.

Still sore from the fight, you don’t disagree, for once. There is plenty of work to be done in the shop, and there is no rush, so lying low sounds nice.

Meanwhile, in Coruscant, the Council discusses the growing threat that the Sith are becoming to the galaxy.

After a long while of brainstorming, Master Choi Minho has an idea, “Why don’t we collect more taxes from the people and place military personnel around our headquarters?”.

There is a wave of silent, approving nods until Chaewon says, “That isn’t much of a plan. What about protection for our people? If their livelihoods are getting strained, they deserve to reap some of the benefits as well!”.

Resounding chuckles fill the air as her cheeks turn pink and her eyes start to well up with tears, feeling embarrassed. However, before she can speak up, Master Chungha smirks. “Oh, you know what, that would be a lovely alteration to the plan! If we were still younglings. Grow up, Chaewon; that isn’t how the world works. We maintain order, and our subjects will be at peace if we are safe. Imagine we are in danger, then they panic; how dangerous that could rapidly become!”.

Most of the Council is clapping for the Master's use of logic when the youngest female Jedi to ever be on the Council, Rei, speaks up, "Yeah, even I know better, and you surpass me by 3 years. You’ll never make it onto the Council if you stay so naïve”.

At this point, Chaewon’s knuckles are white, and she is about to burst with fury at the disrespect.

Luckily, Master Jaeyun diffuses the impending explosion just in time. "All right then, this has been a great start in figuring out how to counteract the Sith issue, but we should dismiss for the day. When we gather next time, let's be more respectful and open-minded. Until next time, stay safe, everyone. Meeting adjourned.”.

Waiting until everyone else leaves to discuss the new developments with Somin and Jihyo, Chaewon remains seated while the rest of the Council files out of the room. Adding insult to injury, Chungha and Rei pat her head as if she were a child as they leave.

As soon as the door shuts, the floods can no longer be contained in her eyes, and Chaewon breaks down. Thankfully, she isn’t alone for long as her allies rush to her side quickly.

Somin reassures her gently while gently rubbing her back, "Let it out, dear; I am so proud of you for standing up for the people and keeping your emotions in check with everything else that happened. While you do need to fine-tune the execution, it was better than staying silent."

Meanwhile, Jihyo kneeled in front of Chaewon with a fierce look in her eyes, “Say the word, and I’ll use my strength training on that prick Minho and his ‘secret’ lover. I’ve been dying to slap them both for so long!” Somin scolds, "Now, why are you listening to those rumors? Whether true or false, it doesn’t concern us or our cause. We need to stay focused, Hyo."

Amongst sniffles, Chaewon chuckles, "I appreciate the offer, but it's okay; we need to make them think we are still aligned with them for the time being.”

At this, Somin looks down at Chaewon with a motherly, proud smile as she kisses the top of her head, and they all head out before curfew is enacted.

Back at Y/N's home shop, she is just finishing her morning routine, getting dressed, and trying to make a game plan for the current list of orders when she hears the bell ring that someone has entered.

Huffing in annoyance, she heads to the front. "I thought I told Huyang to leave the sign off today. Oh well, maybe someone is just lost, and I can get them out quickly,” she mutters.

When she sees who entered the shop, she turns on her heel to walk away, saying, "Look, I have had enough run-ins with you and your gang for a lifetime, so please let me work in peace. Between your elevator ambush, your slightly creepy leader randomly dropping in to apologize for the prior event and slightly offering to work together, then that Winter chick tracking me down, burning my shop, and trying to kill me, I’m all Sithed out, sorry.”

His eyes widen as he pieces together what he has just been told with the argument he heard before leaving. Immediately, he is filled with rage and is concerned for you more than he should be.

Sadly, he doesn’t have time to waste with silly ponderings right now. “Look, I can only speak on my actions, and I apologize if I annoyed you; I was just trying to have a little fun,” he says as his signature shit-eating grin spreads across his face.

He switches modes when he realizes the extent to which you are in no mood for his usual antics. "Okay, look, seriously, I need your help."

You cackle for 2 minutes straight, "Wait, so your crew pesters and threatens me for the last 24 hours, including your insults yesterday, and you think I’ll help you? Get lost.”

Your foot is almost across the threshold of the next room when he says, “You’re right. You can refuse service to anyone. I would, too, if I were you, but I have an offer. I need you to check out and possibly replace my kyber crystal. In exchange, I will pay double your normal service charge to help show you that I am serious about my apology and for information about what happened last night. Do we have a deal?”.

Shocked doesn’t cover how you feel now, “Hold on a minute. Why do you want information about your buddy’s attack? Wouldn’t you just ask them?”

Woo sighs, “ I would, but she is quite emotional right now, and I want the truth. She acted outside of Honjoong’s permission and wounded the integrity of our organization, which, as you know, is already being threatened. She will not know that I know anything or that I got the details from you. The intel will go straight from you to me, then to Hongjoong, who can concoct a story of how he learned about the specifics.”

For once, you can see genuine sincerity in his eyes and give a nod of approval, showing that you understand everything and agree to his terms.

Moving into the connected workshop structure, he sits and watches as you run diagnostic tests on his saber.

After about 15 minutes of this, you start dismantling it in silence so you can replace the crystal that looks like it got jostled by falling off his bedside table or something.

Suddenly, you break the silence. “Wanna know why what you said in the elevator hit such a nerve? Well, even if you don’t too bad. If you can just speak your mind whenever so can I."

Looking taken aback yet endeared at your spunk, he extends his hand in a go-ahead motion.

You continue explaining, "I built this business with my mentor's help after not being taken seriously for 5 years. Just having moved into the city, having no official training, and being a human woman made for an extremely steep uphill climb to where I am now. It was nothing new after a lifetime of having no parents and fending for myself, but there is only so much a person can take. One day, Huyang found me in an alley, about to inject myself with an instant death serum I bought from this shady tent because there was no more hope in my soul. He didn’t realize what it was until he fed me, and I broke down and told him my whole life story.”

Finishing up the saber, you drank some water and proceeded, “I won’t bore you with that, don’t worry. The main point is that after being abandoned and abused multiple times by so-called friends and family alike, I learned I can only depend on myself and, eventually, Huyang. I then put these silver streaks in my hair to remind myself that there is always light in the darkness; the same is true with most people, even those on the Sith side. The way I look at it, they are just misunderstood, and if their methods changed, they would be more respected and less feared.”

Laughing, you realize, “As far as core values go, the Sith is less corrupt than the Council at this point. Your leaders apologize and are protective; you all seem roughly the same rank. On the other hand, the Council likes to pretend to be more open-minded because it has a diverse membership and cares about the people. Yeah right. They overtax and overwork their citizens, who are practically slaves just so they can live posh, secure lives while the rest of us are dying from a myriad of terrible factors. A few secret friends and I in the Council are trying to gather support to overthrow those who have let greed poison them, but who knows if success will happen in my lifetime...”

Realizing you have been rambling for a while now, you feel self-conscious and hurriedly recount the run-in with Winter and tell him which shop was damaged. Thanking him for his time, you rush him out as questions bombard you.

Why did you open up so much to him? That isn’t like you... must still be off from yesterday. That must be it. Yeah. By busying yourself with other orders, you try to forget about your lapse in fortress status.

As Wooyoung stands outside your shop with a newly repaired saber and the old crystal in his pouch, which is special as it was his first, he has much to think about on the way home, more like the burned shop.

Too much is on his mind, and he can use the longer time away as evidence that he didn’t go to your shop so Winter doesn’t get suspicious when Joong has more details about the event later.

Woo is confused on several fronts as he talks to himself throughout his trek, “Why would anyone hurt her? Wait, why do I care? Why would she tell me about her past? It must be a trick to try to protect herself. Is she that type, though? Whatever, I don’t care.”

The last point is immediately disproven upon seeing the damage that Winter caused to the shop. Instinctively, he starts cleaning up the area and making mental notes of supplies to bring next time to fix up the place.

After about 2 hours, he starts heading back, and his inner turmoil has only heightened. He shouldn’t care, so why does he? I mean, you made some excellent points. But he is also under orders to kill you...decisions must be made.

Once dusk hits, you start tidying up the shop, content with the work you got done today (and yes, still repressing the swirl of thoughts from earlier).

Huyang enters with fresh meals he bought from the market nearby. You can both rest and enjoy easy food after the stressful last couple of days.

During the meal, you confide in Huyang about what happened earlier, and he is eerily silent. Not able to take it, after about 5 minutes, you shout, "What?! Just talk, damn... it’s weird when you’re quiet.”

 Clearing his throat, he says, “Apologies, ma’am, I just don’t think you want to hear my notes on this situation as they are similar to the last run-in you had with this Wooyoung. It is admirable that he repented and was able to be sincere with you. As for you, you already know the truth deep down and don’t want to admit it. That is all I shall say”.

Rolling your eyes, you just get up and go to your bedroom as Huyang chuckles to himself.

Unable to sleep due to the mixed emotions, countless questions, and thoughts, you decide to check out your shop at dawn to assess the damage.

 It is evident that someone else has been there as soon as you arrive. All of the lesser damaged items are in one corner, and it looks.... swept. You shrug and are happy that good people exist; they could have easily robbed you, but everything is accounted for despite its state.

Wooyoung, on the other hand, had a restful night’s sleep. Being physically exhausted and pleased that Winter got scolded more due to the intel he gave Hongjoong made him pass out as soon as he lay down.

Unfortunately, he was awoken in the middle of the night. Winter was knelt by his bed, blocking his saber, shaking him awake, “Woo, I cannot sleep. Can I sleep with you instead?.”

Smiling, he rolls onto his side, facing her, and says, “Sure, c’mon in, babe.”

As soon as she is settled in, he opens his eyes and pushes her onto the floor. Yelping with tears in her eyes, she says, “Why did you say sure and call me babe just to do that?!”

Startled fully awake by her screams, Wooyoung realizes what he has done.

In truth, he was dreaming about you too domestically, and in dreamland, her request was presented as yours.

So, when he was met with Winter in reality, he was appalled not only by her presence so close to him but also anxious about the contents of the dream.

He cannot tell her that, though, so he crafts a half lie; “Oh, um, sorry, I was having a dream about this babe I met at the cantina today while I was getting my saber fixed. Go back to your own room, petulant child.”

Whimpering, she refuses, “NO! I am not a child, and I will not be treated like one anymore, not by you especially. Can’t you see how perfect we would be together? Much better than Joong and Y/N; it is so pathetic.”

At the mention of you, Woo bolts upright, “What do you mean?” Winter is confused by his sudden interest. Nevertheless, she explains, “Well, Joong went to Y/N yesterday and plans to go alone tomorrow, too. It seems like he likes her, but, knowing him, he is probably just toying with her.”

Pondering her words, Wooyoung says, “That is his business, and we should not pay any attention to anything he does not discuss with us. Now go to your own room and sleep or not, I do not care, but goodbye.”

As he turns towards the wall, he cannot help but feel a stab of jealousy at this latest information.

Winter goes to her room, kicking herself for being vulnerable yet again, but damnit, she needed a win. Multiple scoldings by Hongjoong lately, along with neither of her crushes giving her the time of day, has her dejected.

She decides to go into an intense isolation period, claiming it is “that time of the month” to ward off Joong and Woo and to get out of doing fieldwork.

The following day, Wooyoung broaches what Winter told him with his leader. "Sir, I have a question: is what she said true? I told her to keep her nose out of your business, but as your second in command, I feel I should know what is going on to aid however I can if needed.”

Shocked at the initiative, Hongjoong smiles, “Thank you for putting her in her place, and I agree. For Bibi's will to be done, there must be nothing but honesty between us. While I admire Miss Y/N’s tenacity, and she is fairly easy on the eyes, I would not be so foolish as to let animal instinct take over. She is merely a pawn in this game, nothing else. Both you and Winter tend to lack professionalism, so I meet up alone to speed up the process.”

Satisfied with his answer, Hongjoong excuses himself from the table and prepares to meet up with Y/N.

Wooyoung waits until Hongjoong is gone to leave for the burned shop and continue making repairs, feeling thankful yet insulted.

Huyang let you sleep in as you caught up on most of the orders yesterday. You awoke with lunch by your bed with a note that he would hang flyers and for you to take it easy today.

Naturally, you ate and paid no mind to the resting part as you wanted to fix your shop more.

About 2 miles from your shop, you see a familiar figure approaching you, but it can't be... it is Wooyoung!

Sadly, there is nowhere to hide from him, so you continue strutting in his direction, acting like his presence is unnoticed.

The moment he gets close to you, anxiety radiates off of him as he tries to make small talk and turns around to walk with you. “What are you doing in the middle of nowhere alone? That is dangerous.” He says.

You scoff, “Since when does the Sith care about the life of a lowly sabersmith? And I can handle myself, thank you very much. The better question is, what are you doing out here? Miss me already?.”

Silence and a heated smirk are all you are met with until you trip him and hold your lilac-hued saber to his throat, “Did you fuck with my shop more? I swear I will slit your throat right now, and you will not like it..”

Attempting to scooch away on his back, he pleads with you, “NO, no, I swear, I did not mess up your shop. I was just.. uh... scouting the area to make sure no defectors from the Sith were in hiding.”

Mainly convinced by his story, you sheath your saber and help him to his feet. He nods and says he has to be on his way but decides not to tell you that Hongjoong is on his way to meet up with you.

It is childish, he admits, but something in him likes that he got to see you today, and Joong did not.

You feel played as soon as you step into your shop; he most definitely fucked with your shop but in a positive way.

It is even cleaner than last time, and repairs are obviously underway. You pin that for the next time you see him and try to focus on the work ahead.

Wooyoung returns to headquarters to hear the sound of things being thrown and screaming; he rushes inside, worried they are under attack, only to find Hongjoong as the source of the cacophony.

Hearing the door close, Joong pauses and half turns around with a crazed look while grinning like a rabid dog. Seeing it is Wooyoung, he starts venting, "Can you believe it? She has the nerve to not respond to my attempts at communication and then stand me up at her own shop?! Does she not realize how much I could fuck up or enhance her life depending on how she plays my game? How could she not want to see me? I am charming, handsome, mysterious; everything a spunky bitch like her would want. That is fine. I will show her what happens when you reject the mighty Hongjoong!”

Before Woo can react, Joong storms into his chambers to plot against Y/N. Just a pawn...sure, Wooyoung thinks to himself.

Wanting to test his newly fixed saber, he heads to the practice room to self-spar. Engrossed in the improvements you made and the scenarios played by the holograms for practice, he only notices Winter watching from the doorway when he trips over his foot and falls.

For once, she is calm as he asks, “H-how long have you been standing there?!” “Oh, only a few minutes, but that’s all I needed to bring you down,” she replies.

Confusion colors his features, “What in the galaxy are you talking about now? How and why would you want to bring me down?”.

She saunters over and stands over him, displaying a newfound dominant aura. “Oh, now you are the naïve one, it seems. Firstly, a girl can only take so much rejection before she snaps and turns on those she once wanted most. Secondly, there is only one smith around here whose trademark is white kyber crystals. You are as good as dead once Joong finds out you lied to him about where you got it fixed.”

Panic evident in his eyes, Woo quickly defends, "Okay, true, that trademark is well known amongst the customers of Y/N, but that does not mean she has a monopoly on them; plenty of other shops have them in stock from time to time. Also, how are you still so childish? Oh noooo, I don’t return your crush, so you are going to vaguely threaten me? Geez, go to counseling or get laid, shit.”

Winter is semi-convinced, so she stays to practice for a bit. Meanwhile, Wooyoung exits to wash off the near-death experience and plans a trip to warn you about a potential second attack from Winter.

After Wooyoung bathes, he heads to your shop, praying Joong does not cross his path. He arrives about the same time as you, and being too tired to argue, you let him in while you hydrate and catch your breath from all the manual labor you just did.

As you rest, he warns you, “Look, Winter saw me sparring with my saber. Great work, by the way! Anyway, now it is seen as betraying the Sith by going to you. You could be in a lot of danger, and while I can’t directly protect you, I can give you a heads up at least."

Furrowing your brows, your only response is, “Why would you, though?” He deeply exhales, “ I don't even know, okay, but there is your warning. Have a good day.”

Confused and amused by his awkwardness, you say, “I will, actually. It has been productive so far, plus my efforts have finally shut down a gambling center where the money goes to the Council, so I am happy! Plus, I have even more followers of my cause!”

Turning away, he grins, happy to see you reach your goals, but that smile fades rapidly as you say, “By the way, I know you were the one who has been helping with my damaged shop. Thanks.”

He leaves since he does not know how to respond or why his motivation has been pro-you and anti-mission lately, but not without quipping, “I mean, why would I help you? But if you want to reward me for this supposed aid, you can give my biological saber lip service next time, doll.”

As he leaves with a wink, you are annoyed, not by him for once, but with yourself. That kind of remark usually elicits nausea and a desire to kill every man.

This time, you just giggle once he leaves and feel your entire body heat up at the thought. Yep, you are screwed.

The next day, after you both have very intense sexual dreams about each other, you decide to go to Tatooine. His reason is simply to attempt to distract his brain, while yours is to check on your small shop.

It is a request-only shop as it is the least trafficked area for you, but with recent events, you might as well check in while you collect more kyber crystals.

As you are about to leave, you get a surprise visit from Hongjoong; shocked and perturbed, you politely excuse yourself; "Terribly sorry, but I was just on my way out; you can come back tomorrow, though, if you'd like.” He does not like that at all and backs you into your workbench.

Displaying a devilish, darkened gaze of determination, he states, “Oh, you foolish girl. I do not want to make the trip tomorrow. I am here now, and I want you. Do you know how much business I could get you? I would even share what I collect from the Sith citizens from ‘taxes,’ aka my fun fund. Stop fighting this attraction. It’s just me, not like I am the big bad wolf darling, though I would love to eat you,” he states, smirking a couple of inches from your lips.

With his eyes closed, you take the opportunity to hit him in the head with one of your tools and run out, hopping on your speeder and quickly zooming away with tears in your eyes.

You are reeling from the encounter and frustrated that your heart wants to flee to Woo for comfort.

With Hongjoong yelling at you that nobody is ever going to love you if you do not let them in or just be grateful that a god like him designed to give you his attention, you decide against walking into the lion’s den; you stay the course to Tatooine ignoring your yearning for comfort.

After a while, you head to the local cantina to grab something refreshing to drink since you have been in the sun crystal mining for 3 hours now.

En route, you notice people fighting and pay no mind, believing it to just be a couple of drunkards squabbling over the bill. Until you get closer, that is, and find that the fighters are Wooyoung and Hongjoong!

Staying a safe distance away yet being able to hear every word of their conversation makes you worried. Yet, you know it would be foolish to get in the middle, so you stand there paralyzed.

It seems that your rejection led Joong to the desert looking for a hook-up at the bar, where he ran into Woo and immediately went on the offensive.

Hongjoong is slurring at Woo, “Why did you go to that bitch for your saber? You know she is mine! Now, you ruin my attempts to get rid of the blue balls she gave me earlier? You are dead, apprentice.”

Wooyoung retorts between defending Joong’s strikes. “First off, she is not a bitch, and she was the closest sabersmith. Secondly, blue balls are not a thing, and you would not be looking for a drunken desperate cunt to sink into if she had initiated it, so stop lying to yourself and to me.”

Hongjoong looks victorious, “HA, so you admit going to her! For once, Winter was the good pupil. Maybe I will send the signal for her to attack Y/N while you are busy here..since you cannot even kill her like you were ordered."

Too worried about you, Woo freezes for a split second, which is enough for Joong to pull out his dagger and slice Wooyoung’s right cheek and left shoulder.

Right after, Joong hears a speeder and does not want witnesses, so he runs away; thank goodness your idea worked.

Helping Wooyoung onto your speeder, you head to your shop. It is not an ideal reason to head over there, but you were already planning on checking on it, so oh well.

Upon arrival, you help support him off the bike as he got beat up quite a beat; laying him on the bed in the back of the shop, you start taking off his robe to assess the wound.

Always a smartass, he smirks, and then he is screeching for dear life. He stares at your attempt at stifling a laugh, "Hey, don’t look so pleased.” You snort, “Sorry, just nice to see you are human sometimes.”

He pouts and turns away, forgetting his cheek is sliced too, so he turns back, defeated, towards you while you tend to his wounds and wrap up his shoulder.

You hate to admit it, but damn, his body looks even better than you thought; no, you scold yourself, not the place or time.

You change the subject, "So why can't you kill me? Or was he drunk?". Still on edge, he barks, "I don't even know, okay?! I warn you; I fix your shop secretly; I duel my master to defend your honor. It is all worth it, but-“

You interrupt. “You don't need to get hurt for me, though, idiot.” He grins. “I know I don’t have to, but I do, and I’m not sure why, but I want to help your cause and think it’s a great thing you’re doing and-“

This time, you interrupt him with a kiss that immediately gets returned. Pulling away, you apologize, “Sorry, but I had to stop your nonsense. I think I know why you do the things you do. It’s the same reason I helped you today, and don’t mind your drop-ins as much as I let on.”

He raises an eyebrow, asking why, to which you lean in close to him again and whisper in his ear, “Because we want each other badly but are scared of being that close and getting hurt.”

Sitting up, you blush. “I mean, maybe it’s just me, but it feels like we are very similar and fated in a way; just tell me if I –“

He stops you with a hungry kiss, supporting himself with his good arm, cradling the back of your head with his left hand as his tongue explores your mouth.

Your boldness peeks through as you lightly suck his tongue and let your hands gently trail down his abs and palm his covered, very strained bulge.

He groans into your mouth as he snakes his hand under your tunic and palms your voluptuous breasts in response, rolling your hardening nipples between his fingers.

This does not last long before his skilled tongue is swirling the buds and sucking on your tits, bringing you to ecstasy quicker than expected.

Sitting up as much as he can, you remove the rest of both of your clothes and straddle him, both of your sweat mixing in an intoxicating concoction of desire and safety in each other as your hands roam all over each other, passionately making out and making up for lost time.

You feel him grow beneath you, and with remarkable quickness, you shimmy down and lick the slit of his leaking tip for a moment or two before engulfing his thickness down your throat with ease earning you a nonverbal good job on the cheek with his veiny hands.

As he approaches his climax, he pulls you up by your hair, your lips releasing him with a pop and gestures for you to kiss him.

He gazes hungrily into your eyes, “I need to be inside of you, Y/N god, like right now.” You look sideways and reveal, “I want that too, but I, um, well... you would be my first. Can we go slow?"

His energy softens as he caresses your face, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Of course, baby, I simply want to be closer to you.”

Nodding, you line yourself up and sink onto him slowly. It hurts a bit at first, but you quickly adjust to the sting, and it feels sinfully good to have your aching cunt being filled by him finally.

The shop is consumed with the sound of your delicious moans and skin coming together more and more rapidly until you are about to reach your high.

Wooyoung can tell you are close to your release and reaches down to play with your clit, “C'mon love, make a mess on me, princess” At his words, your body reacts by cumming so many times you lose count.

With his help, you ride out your high for about 10 minutes as you feel his heat fill you up three times before you both slump over in exhaustive bliss.

Over the next few days, you stay in that shop talking about everything, and he officially decides to join your cause and recant his Sith ways.

You reveal that you chose his kyber crystal on purpose because you saw the light in him. He tears up and hugs you tightly, "I know it's soon, but I love you, my moth."

You kiss him, saying you love him as well, and have for a while through light sobs.

You both return to Coruscant after going to a nearby hair studio for a change of pace.

He adds blonde streaks to his black hair to remind himself of the light inside and has his old crystal fashioned into a necklace to remind him of where he has been and that he has changed.

 You, however, exchange your silver-streaked hair for more of a rust color to match the sentiment of his crystal, promising to keep each other in check and make sure no corruption enters your hearts.

Back at the Council, you, along with Somin, Jihyo, Chaewon, and Wooyoung, expose the corrupt members despite Masters Moonbyul and Jongseob trying to rationalize their actions but failing as they all get carted away to the highest security prison.

Later that day, the secretly good trio became the new faces of the Council and immediately threw a celebration for the city's people, returning all the money that had been wrongly collected.

You and Wooyoung, of course, attend in support. As you are about to steal a kiss, you notice a familiar pair of beady eyes peek behind a pillar.

But now, they are filled with pride and wonder instead of obsession. “What did you see?” Wooyoung asks; you smile and say, “Oh, an old friend, they are shy now but are doing better, I can tell, and I’m happy for them.”

He kisses you, and you lean your head on his shoulder, relishing in this beautiful life you have built for yourself and glad Huyang was right. It is true what they say: if you allow it, change will happen for the better.

[lenythepillow]

Songs by The Smiths that remind me of Steve Harrington

This is mostly angst (if you don't like that content please just leave this post), so let's start

How Soon Is Now?

Even though "How Soon Is Now?" doesn't have many lyrics and only has around four different paragraphs, the lyrics itself remind me of Steve; imagine that the party is making a list of songs to use in case Vecna curses them; it's Steve's turn to decide the song that could save him. Everyone expects to be something from Madonna or The Beatles but it is "How Soon Is Now?" nobody understands why until Robin reads the lyrics. 

"There's a club if you'd like to go

You could meet somebody who really loves you

So you go and you stand on your own

And you leave on your own

And you go home and you cry

And you want to die"

Pretty Girls Make Graves

This song's message is not literal, not the full song applies to Steve's situation with Nancy (Especially since Steve is the one who wanted to take matters into the bed and Nancy was hesitant and uninterested at first)

Regardless, some parts remind me of how they broke up:

"Then, on the sand

Another man, he takes her hand

A smile lights up her stupid face

(And well, it would)"

And the verse "I'm not the man you think I am" could be Steve trying to convince himself he changed to convince others he changed.

I Know It’s Over

This- this is post-breakup Steve and all his desperate attempts to get a girlfriend, just look at this:

"I know it's over

And it never really began

But in my heart, it was so real

And you even spoke to me and said:

"If you're so funny

Then why are you on your own tonight?

And if you're so clever

Then why are you on your own tonight?

If you're so very entertaining

Then why are you on your own tonight?

If you're so very good-looking

Why do you sleep alone tonight?

I know...

" 'Cause tonight is just like any other night

That's why you're on your own tonight

With your triumphs and your charms

While they're in each other's arms...

It's so easy to laugh

It's so easy to hate

It takes strength to 

be gentle and kind

Over, over, over, over"

Never Had No One Ever

I remember some said that the "six little nuggets" speech wasn't that wholesome since it represents Steve's wish to never be alone again and get unconditional love; therefore Never Had No One Ever could represent this fear: the fear of dying alone.

"When you walk without ease

On these streets where you were raised

I had a really bad dream

It lasted 20 years, 7 months, and 27 days

And I know alone that I never, ever oh

Had no one ever"

Steddie content below ma mates, please don't read if you don't like it, and stay respectful :)

Angst

Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me

Scenario: It's Eddie's death anniversary, Steve visits his grave and apologizes for not being able to save him; he tells Eddie how much the kids need him (especially Dustin) and he wishes he could come back. That night he plays Strangeways, Here We Come, then the songs start playing and he breaks down.

"Last night I felt

Real arms around me

No hope, no harm

Just another false alarm

So, tell me how long

Before the last one?

And tell me how long

Before the right one?

The story is old - I know

But it goes on"

The Boy With the Thorn in His Side

Steve's parents finally show up just to make his life a living hell since they don't approve of his sexuality (much less the fact that Steve is in love with a guy who was accused of murder)

"The boy with the thorn in his side

Behind the hatred there lies

A murderous desire for love"

"How can they look into my eyes

And still they don't believe me?

How can they hear me say those words

And still they don't believe me?"

"And after all this time

They don't want to believe us

And if they don't believe us now

Will they ever believe us?"

Hurt/comfort

What She Said

Okay okay okay, imagine Eddie getting into Steve's music taste just to have more in common, he finds Steve's collection of The Smiths, and a song, in particular, catches his attention: it's "What She Said" Once he hears it he can't stop matching the lyrics to his poor boyfriend.

"What she said was sad

But then, all the rejection she's had

To pretend to be happy

Could only be idiocy"

"What she said was not for the job or

Lover that she never has"

"What she said:

"I smoke 'cause I'm hoping for an early death

And I need to cling to something!""

(Eddie knows that the lyrics "It took a tattooed boy from Birkenhead to really, really open her eyes" probably talk about someone who hurt the girl the song's about; but he likes to think he will be the tattooed boy who will make Steve open his eyes and see himself with love for once)

Fluff

 There Is a Light That Never Goes Out

The whole song screams steddie to me- I imagine Steve hanging out with Eddie after a horrible fight with his parents; Eddie doesn't just comfort Steve but he tells him that Wayne and he are planning to leave Hawkins since living there is such a risk, this leads to the question "Would you like to come with us? Just the three of us?" and Steve starts crying while nodding happily.

You have to listen to the whole song but here's my favorite part

"Take me out tonight

Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care

I don't care, I don't care

Driving in your car

I never, never want to go home

Because I haven't got one, la-di-dum

Oh, I haven't got one

Oh, oh"

I JUST WANT STEVE RUNNING AWAY WITH EDDIE WHILE THIS SONG PLAYS AND STEVE TELLS EDDIE HE MAKES HIM FEEL AT HOME DON'T @ ME 

[teenmomcentral]

It’s over— again— for Bar Smith and Ashley Jones.

The on-and-off married Teen Mom: The Next Chapter couple apparently called it quits over the weekend, with Ashley taking to social media first to blast Bar for allegedly cheating on her, and to declare herself single. Bar denied that what he did was cheating, later admitting that his marriage to Ashley has been “over for a while now.” 

This is certainly not the first time the ‘Teen Mom’ stars have split and taken their breakup to social media. Back in May, Bar posted on Instagram that he and Ashley-— who have technically been married since 2021 -— had separated. He deleted the post soon after and neither him or Ashley spoke of the “split” again.

The Ashley is going to try to recap Bar and Ashley’s latest social media squabble over their split.

Things kicked off early Saturday morning when Ashley took to Twitter posting, “I told myself in would never be that bitch. It’s time for me to go.”

Ashley followed that tweet up with one stating that she gave her “all” to Bar but he still did her “greasy over a mediocre bitch.” 

When a fan responded to Ashley’s tweet with, “@BarikiSmithMTV you better not,” Ashley replied, “He did.” 

She then requested her followers send her their “fine ass brothers,” before declaring herself single and ready to mingle.

“So when you see me doing me please know I am single, and there has BEEN a line of handsome young men waiting …” Ashley wrote.

She also tweeted (then deleted), “Imagine him chatting to the bitch all Mother’s Day and she ain’t even got kids. I didn’t get flowers or nothing from the n**ha.” 

Bar jumped into things a little while later, explaining his side of the story in the comment section of @TeenMomShadeRoom’s post about Ashley’s Twitter posts implying that he cheated on her.

“Just to be clear, I was not cheating,” wrote Bar in a comment that’s since been deleted. “I had a friend (that I’m no longer cool with now) and we spoke often, wasn’t nothing weird and I stand by that. Could it seem like something because she’s of opposite sex? Yes I agree but it wasn’t.”

He then hinted that Ashley may have been doing a lil outside-the-marriage “horizontal mambo”-ing herself.

“Now ask her how dirty her hands are, how much s**t I’ve let go,” Bar wrote. “I’m not gone put it out but ask her.”

“I don’t got nothing to say and I’m sure she gone fly off the handle and say a bunch of s**t after this but whatever. This the last ima speak on this.

“But yes, we are not together, that is true,” he added. “And I wish her the best.”

Even though Bar stated that this would be the last he would speak of his split, he went Live on Instagram soon after to make sure the ladies knew he was now single.

“A hundred percent, I’m single as f**k!” Bar said, encouraging fans to slide into his DMs. 

Bar said he’s not going to get online and spill “all this messy s**t” about his relationship.

“I’ve been doing that for seven years…I’m not doing that,” Bar— who was doing just that–added.

“You can still be married with somebody and not be in a relationship with them,” Bar said on Live. “Sometimes you leave the relationship before you’re fully separated. It is what it is. It’s unfortunate, because I love Ashley to death, but it is what it is. You can’t keep fighting for something that’s not working out.”

[storyknitter]

Just in case y’all haven’t had enough of this AU yet, the ever-so-lovely @lupotterdraws​ brought them to life in art for me! I love love love everything about this!

[writerdream22]

requested by: no one, but I sincerely hope you like this anyways ✨🌻💛

pairings: levi ackerman x wife!reader, eren jeager x reader (platonic), hange zoe x reader (platonic), erwin smith x reader (platonic), etc.

warnings: none

taglist: @randomfandomimagine (let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!)

a/n: I know I haven't been posting in a long while, and that I have lots and lots of pieces to work on. I've been watching aot for a while, and I wanted to write something regarding that fandom

You and Levi had met when you were just teenagers; you were the daughter of a scouting legion commander, and Erwin's new friend had caught your attention

Just like an ordinary introvert person, you were really shy, and it was Erwin himself who introduced you to Levi, Farlan and Isabel

“They seem like nice people, you know?”

“Uh?”

“The kids from the underground city. You should go introduce yourself”

“They're criminals, Erwin. I won't go talk to them. They will surely snob me as soon as they see me”

“Trying doesn't hurt. And if they say something, just use the moves you learnt while training.”

“If you say so”

You were intimidated, especially by Levi. But it seemed that he was willing to talk to you

“Hi, uhm, my name is— my name is y/n”

“We know who you are”

“Erwin told us lots about you! I'm Isabel, and these two boys are Levi and Farlan”

“I just wanted to know if the three of you needed someone to show you around”

“Kids, cadet y/l/n will show you around. All right?”

“Yes sir!”

You immediately thought that it was a bad idea to be left alone by yourself, with people you didn't know. Erwin knew well that you felt anxious around newcomers, but he sincerely wanted you to have some friends.

The tour went all right; you and Isabel had immediately gotten along, while it took you a few months to warm up to Levi and Farlan

As time went on and you were slowly becoming autonomous, people started to think that you and Levi were actually related and that you had somehow been separated at birth; you were both quite short, with dark hair and light-colored eyes

Not to mention that you both loved tea

When you became part of the scouting legion, you were happier than ever even though you were fully aware of the risks you were taking

When Isabel and Farlan died, you and Levi were devastated. You had set aside your grief, and stayed by Levi's side

“What are you doing here?”

“Couldn't sleep. You?”

“Neither could I. I was making some tea, do you want some?”

“Yeah, Levi, thank you”

“Would you like to talk about — about that?”

“No, not really”

“Oh, well— can I braid your hair instead? It calms down the two of us. Me and Isabel had so much fun doing that, remember?”

“Tch, I hated it. But yeah—braid my hair, y/n”

You and Levi shared a sweet moment. You didn't talk, nor you wanted to, but you comforted each other just with your presence.

As time went by, you and Levi got extremely close. The two of you became corporals, giving Erwin the condition of always having to work together no matter what

The only people that the two of you became friends with, or just cared about, were Hange and your squad

One day, while you and the other corporals of the scouting legion were having breakfast, Hange made a sarcastic remark about how you and Levi were close

“Can't you just leave each other alone for a minute?”

“We just care about each other, and we respect our boundaries”

“Seems like you have some— that you share romantic feelings for each other, eh? ”

“What do you mean, Hange?”

“Yeah, this is ridiculous. Let's go, y/n, we need to prepare for our next mission”

Hange's words really sparked something in your soul. You started to think abot the relationship that you and Levi had, the special treatment you reserved for each other even though you were famous for being strict...

One day, you decided to confront him

“Hi”

“Hi, y/n, is everything all right?”

“Yeah. Have you— have you thought about what Hange said?”

“Yeah...”

“I did too, by the way”

“And what did you want to tell me about it?”

“She was right. I do have romantic feelings for you, but I need to know that you feel the same before I pour my heart out to you”

“Levi, please say something”

“I don't just like you, y/n, I love you. And now, come here—”

Then and there, he kissed you. Your first kiss, just like you had imagined.

You decided to keep your relationship a secret for a while, as you didn't want Hange to know that she was right. She found out anyways, and she told everyone.

After a few years, you decided to get married. You were extremely happy, and you couldn't ask for anything else in the world.

“With this ring, I give you my soul. With this ring, I put my trust in you, and hope to live by your side until we grow old. Meeting you was one of the best things that could have ever happened to me. I wanted a splinter of happiness in that pathetic, dark void I had grown accustomed to call life. Meeting you fulfilled my dream of becoming a better man. With this ring, you make me happy, and I hope that I'll make you happy as well. Meeting you made me learn what true love is. I love you, y/n, always and forever”

As a team, Levi was deemed as more important by your superiors. Sometimes, they didn't even address themselves to you and just talked to your husband.

“Sir, my wife here also contributed to the mission. I think that you should congratulate yourself to her, as well”

Levi always looked out for you, making sure that every single detail was to your liking. As everyone knew, he showed his vulnerable self to only you, and you were grateful for the trust he had given you.

“Are you ok, darling?”

“Yeah. You're still working on those papers, eh?”

“I just have to sign a few things, then I have to meet up with Erwin. Tch, this stuff is so tiring sometimes”

“We can take a walk around the compound later, if you want. Then, I can make you some tea”

“That would be fantastic, y/n. You're really the best wife in the world”

“I'm your only wife, Levi”

The whole situation that emerged from the apparition of abnormal titans stressed you out, quite a lot nevertheless. Levi had noticed it, and saw that you were more nervous than usual. He made sure to always ride by your side, to always be able to keep his eye on you.

He knew what stress did to you. It made you more vulnerable, more subject to distractions, and he didn't want to lose you at all.

During one of your many missions, where you had the unpleasant surprise of meeting the female titan, you got severely hurt.

“What were you thinking?!”

“I wanted to save our squad! I wanted to save Petra, Oluo, everyone! But I couldn't!”

“You risked your life, y/n! You could have died, you know that?”

“I sure do, Levi! That's what soldiers do! They die, after having done something good for humanity, and I lived a pretty decent life! I got married, I had friends, but I am alive now! I am all right, it's just routine”

“You can't just do things recklessly. I can't stand losing you. Not now, not ever. I want to build a family with you, I want to live my life with you and only you. You can't die, you got it?”

“Yes, Levi. I'm sorry”

“Let me get you some tea, now”

That's when you fully understood that Levi loved you. You had managed to warm up his heart with your sweet and kind words, and he'd managed to conquer yours with just a look in your eyes.

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

For The Lover That I Lost (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! Welcome to part 9, inspired by Sam Smith’s “For the Lover That I Lost”. This now takes place post-civil war. 

Summary: Y/n and Wanda are finally able to talk. Will the talk end in love or tragedy?

“All of the memories feel like magic, all of the fighting seemed so sweet. All that we were, my love, was tragic and you're the last thing that I need.”

“Do you think we could have that talk now?”

For a moment you just stared at the clouds floating past the small window you were seated by and let the question hang in the air. She had given you space for a few hours, but you knew this moment was bound to come. 

The problem was that your healing was precarious, you knew that, and you didn’t know if it could withstand a conversation that was sure to open the wounds you had spent months patching up. 

“Y/n?” Wanda called, cautiously placed a hand on your shoulder. 

With a deep breath you turned your body to face her. “I thought about it, and I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Wanda.” You answered honestly. 

Her brow furrowed slightly, “I understand your hesitation, but-“

“Look, Wanda, allow me to save you the trouble.” You began steadily, “You’re sorry for how everything happened. I accept your apology. You don’t want to lose me from your life. Give me some time and then we’ll work on rebuilding the friendship. Did I get everything?”

She stared at you, her eyes troubled. “Well, not exactly, I was trying to-“

Once again, you interrupted her. “And I won’t stand between you and Vision.”  You added with a snap, as if you had just remembered something important. 

“Will you stop interrupting me?” Wanda exclaimed, shocking you into silence. “Sorry, I just-… I forgot how stubborn you can be.” She rubbed her arm in embarrassment. 

You stared at her silently, granting her wish of no interruptions. Waiting for her to get to her point, that you still weren’t sure you wanted to hear. 

As you observed her, you noticed the way she nervously spun the ring she was wearing on her finger while she seemed to ponder where to begin. “Have you always done that?” you gestured to her hands, unable to stop yourself from asking.

Her eyebrows raised at your question, obviously not expecting it. “I…” she thought about it for a moment, then ducked her head slightly. “I guess it was something that I picked up from you. For so long, your nerves were intertwined with my own that it just became a habit from watching you, I guess.” She mumbled.

You bit your lip and nodded but said nothing, taking note of how her eyes closely observed the action. You gestured for her to go on.

Wanda took a deep, steadying breath, making sure she maintained eye contact with you. “First, I am no longer with Vision. I haven’t been for months.” Your eyebrows raised curiously. “You were right though, part of what I wanted to talk about was how sorry I am. Y/n, I am, so, so, sorry. You deserved so much more than what I gave you. I don’t expect you to forgive me because I certainly don’t forgive myself.” The sincerity in her voice took you by surprise. 

The glassy look in her eyes and prominence of her accent were tell-tale signs of how upset she was. It was information you wished you didn’t know anymore. You dropped your gaze to your lap, it was easier this way.

“There is no excuse-“ she continued until a quiet knock on the wall made her stop. You both looked over to see a sheepish looking Steve Rogers standing a few feet away. 

“Sorry to interrupt. Again.” He coughed awkwardly. “I just wanted to let you know we’ve landed at our temporary hide-out. It’s that house up in the distance.” He gestured vaguely as the door to the quinjet opened to reveal an open field with an unsuspecting two-story house located in the center.

Under normal circumstances you would have thought it was a beautiful sight. The knowledge that you were all there on the run, tarnished that though. You let out a quiet breath. “It’s beautiful. Where exactly are we?”

“Spain. A very rural area at that.” He replied easily.

Despite the view, Wanda couldn’t take her eyes off you. She needed to talk to you uninterrupted and it seemed as though the universe was actively trying to prevent that from happening. All she could do was hope that this wasn’t an omen. That she still had a chance. 

“How long will we be here?” Wanda questioned, finally tearing her eyes away from you.

At the question, Steve shifted in discomfort. “A few days... if that. When Natasha arrives, it’ll be best if we split into small groups at most. We’re wanted fugitives now.”

“Natasha?” you asked with a tilt of your head, distinctly remembering her on Tony’s side.

Steve nodded. “She helped me and Bucky get out. She’s wanted now too.”

Both you and Wanda shared a look of surprise, Wanda speaking up before you could say anything. “Thank you for the update, Steve. We’ll meet the rest of you inside.”

With a knowing nod, Steve took the hint and turned to catch up with Sam who had already began walking ahead. “Guess we better head out.” you mumbled.

“Can we take a walk before we go in? I’d really like to finish our conversation.” Wanda requested hesitantly, her eyes pleading.

With another steadying breath, you nodded. She seemed determined and obviously wasn’t going to let this go. “Okay, Wanda.” You stood up and walked with her out of the quinjet, veering to a small path that was on the side of the house rather than going inside. 

After walking a decent amount, Wanda stopped and took your hand, effectively stopping you as well. You looked at her expectantly. She decided she couldn’t handle another interruption and decided to just be bold. “You’re the love of my life.”

Her words were so unexpected that you just stared at her for a moment, opening and closing your mouth as you tried to process. “I’m sorry, what?” you eventually choked out.

“You are the love of my life.” She repeated with three light squeezes to your hand. “Pushing you away – not fighting for you – was the biggest mistake of my life. A mistake I never plan on making again. I was confused and thought that my powers were tied to my heart. I was wrong. The only person that has ever held my heart and will ever hold my heart is you. I want to grow old with you. I want you for the rest of my life.” Her words were passionate and desperate as she tried to express the true contents of her heart, hoping you’d believe her. 

Disbelief was the only thing you could feel as you watched her shimmering eyes remain on yours. Shortly following the break-up you had dreamed of a moment like this. Not anymore though. You couldn’t. You had spent months learning to live without her. The risk of allowing her back into your heart came at much too high a cost. You wouldn’t recover a second time. “I-I learned to live without you, Wanda. I can’t risk it with you again. I’ve played before and lost.” You answered, finally pulling your hand out of her grasp. 

“Do you still love me?” she asked in a pleading tone, ignoring your words. She took your hands back in hers, you noticed that they were shaking ever so slightly. “Tell me you still love me. Please.”

You swallowed thickly and met her eyes, “I don’t love you anymore.” You said weakly, so weakly that you didn’t even believe it yourself. 

Wanda shook her head, clearly on the verge of tears. “I don’t believe you. I know you still love me. A love like ours doesn’t just go away. I love you, Y/n. Let me show you.” Without a moment’s hesitation, she took your face in her hands and connected your lips passionately.

Wanda sighed contently at the contact she had been missing, the way you both fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. The rush of electricity was a feeling she longed for. Getting swept up in the moment, you returned her kiss temporarily before the shock wore off and the hurt settled once again. 

Pushing at her shoulders you quickly stepped back. “You can’t just kiss me and expect everything to go away, Wanda.” You shouted at her. “I think I should go.” You mumbled turning to leave.

Watching you walk away again was a nightmare vision to Wanda and she would be damned if she gave up so easily again. She ran and stopped so she was directly in your path, preventing you from going any further. “Y/n, please, I can’t imagine my life without you” The tears she had been holding back bubbled over the surface and fell down her cheeks. You fought the urge to brush them away.

“You know, I used to think of you as the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with too. As somebody who would never hurt me. Ever.” Wanda listened to you quietly as tears flowed more steadily down her cheeks. “Now all I see when I look at you is that last moment on the roof. Of you with him. It doesn’t matter what you say, or what you do… it’s too late.”

A sob escaped Wanda’s lips as she briefly covered her face with her hands. “Y/n, please… This can’t be it.”

“It is though.” Blinking back tears, you moved to step around her. 

“Y-you’re a coward!” She cried after you, at your retreating figure. The pain clear in her voice. 

Anger quickly replaced the anguish at her words. You spun around to face her, her jaw clenched. You couldn’t believe her. “I’m the coward? No, Wanda, you are!” you shouted back.

The woman in question ran a hand through her hair, tears falling even faster. She seemed at a loss. “You’re the one that chose to run instead of staying and fighting!” 

Her words made something in you crack, she had no right to be angry. To pin the demise of what you both once were on you. “How is that fair?” you snapped at her. “I was supposed to stay and fight for someone who had very clearly decided they didn’t want me anymore? You don’t get to pardon yourself. The ashes of our relationship are on you and you alone.” You gritted out bitterly. 

For a moment she just stared at you, her chest heaving as she clutched at her chest. Almost as though your words physically impacted her. “I…I’m sorry.” she took a deep breath and recollected herself. She reached out to you, you stepped back. Her face contorted in pain at the knowledge that you didn’t want her anymore. 

“I know I don’t deserve it and you have no reason give it to me, but please, give us a second chance. Let me prove to you I mean what I say, to prove that you… you are everything. There will never be anyone else. I love you.” her eyes met yours pleadingly, slowly breaking before your very eyes.

You took your own deep breath and braced yourself for the words you were about to say. “Wanda, we don’t stand a chance. It’s sad, but it’s true. We’re bound to end in tragedy.” You said quietly, staring off in the distance because you weren’t sure you could handle watching her reaction. “It’s time to move on.”

Like a magnet though, your eyes found hers either way. 

Broken. That’s the only word that came to mind when you saw her expression. Broken sobs left her lips. Her eyes glistened as they desperately searched yours for something, something that you had blocked off long ago. “You don’t mean that.” She whispered, her lips trembling along with her words. 

You shut your eyes for a moment and prepared yourself to close the door on what you both had. “Goodbye, Wanda.” You whispered as you walked off without looking back.

If you did, you would have seen the way she fell to her knees. The knowledge that she had no one to blame for her own broken heart but herself bringing her to her knees. She buried her face in her hands as sobs wracked through her body. Longing for the comfort of your arms.

Silent tears rolled down your cheeks as you listened to the sound of her cries in the distance, but you knew it was for the best... At least you hoped it was.

That night Steve announced that it would be in everyone���s best interest to split up for the time being as he handed out older phones to everyone so each of you could be contacted and check in. After his announcement everyone retreated to their room. You quietly let Steve know where you planned on going and told no one else. 

As you discreetly prepared to leave the following morning, you found a dozen flowers at your door, half purple violets and half white dittanies. The memory of the last time you saw these flowers filled your mind bittersweetly. A memory that no longer felt like it belonged to you.

When Wanda awoke, she was disappointed to find the flowers she had gifted you back at her door and the room you were staying in empty. Even if her heart ached, she knew that she couldn’t give up. She’d try and try again because your love was worth fighting for and she wouldn’t let you go again. She was determined to spend the rest of her life trying to win you back if she had to. There was no other path for her.

And there we have chapter 9! Angst, angst, angst. I got a little carried away lol. Only 3 more to go, where do you think the reader and Wanda will go from here? As always, hope you all enjoyed and thoughts and comments always welcome. 

P.s. did anyone catch a hint of a different Sam Smith song in there? It may be a hint for the next chapter, it may not be. Still deciding. 

[jerzwriter]

Delaying the Inevitable Chapter 8: Fireworks

Book: Open Heart 3 (Post Series)

Series: Delaying the Inevitable

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC Tobias Carrick x F!MC

Rating: Chapter: Mature 18 +

Summary: Extended Series WIP – Love Triangle. In this chapter: Ethan is away on a month-long business trip; the friends gather for the Fourth of July; Casey and Tobias bond; and who is Floria and what is she up to?

Category: Extended Series (WIP)

Warnings: Discussion of sexual situations; language; discussion of pregnancy

A/N: Hello! This is long, I’m sorry! But I think it was necessary and you should enjoy it. A lot happens in this chapter, and you’ll learn some pretty exciting things. Some readers have asked how Casey, who is a brilliant woman & diagnostician, could be blind to Tobias’s feelings for her. First, she is so in love with Ethan, she isn’t even looking for those signs in anyone else; Second, she is close friends with Tobias, and they are both flirtatious, it’s not very different from her relationship with Bryce, so she doesn’t see anything happening, for now. 😊 I hope you enjoy this week’s chapter.

I wouldn't say this was an inspiration for the chapter, but it certainly expresses Tobias's feelings to me. Freaking poor Tobias, I apologize to him at least 10 times a chapter...

Not In That Way - Sam Smith

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS

If you wish to be added or removed from tags, please let me know. Comments and reblogs always appreciated. 😊

Tobias stared at the door with a sense of dread, he knew he was not turning a doorknob, but peeling the lid off a can of worms that had been buried over a decade ago. How it unearthed was inconsequential to him, his only concern was ensuring that it was submerged again as quickly as possible. Steeling himself, he opened the door to her room.

The privacy curtain encircled her bed and he grimaced as he clutched its fabric in his hand, pausing for a moment before thrusting it to the side.

“Good morning, Floria,” he said in a tone that may have passed for pleasant if his lips had not been pressed together so tightly that they vanished into a thin line across his face.

She blinked when she opened her eyes, clearly bewildered by the figure standing before her. Am I hallucinating? That appeared to be the only explanation, but then again, if she were hallucinating, Tobias Carrick is the last man she would expect to see.

“Tobias Carrick. Is that you?”

“The one and only,” he said sliding into a chair near her bed.

“Wow,” she snickered, “what the hell are the chances?”

“Probably about the same as winning the lottery, but with very different outcomes.”

“It’s lovely to see you again too, Tobias.”

He snorted. “It is something all right. What brings you to Boston, I thought you had settled in Chicago.”

“We did. But Peter accepted a position at Tufts last year.”

“Ah, so you and Peter are still together.”

“Sort of. Six months after moving to this wretched town he advised me that he was leaving me for one of his students. So, I am stuck here until our divorce is final.”

Tobias smirked, “Well, then it looks like you’ll be in Beantown for some time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic. I don’t imagine a quick divorce is on your horizon.”

“That’s a rather bold assumption for someone who hasn’t had contact with me in over a decade. People do change, Tobias.”

“Yes, they do. Have you?”

“I like to think so.”

“Well, since I am overseeing your care, I am going to choose to give you the benefit of the doubt. I think that approach would be best.”

“Wait? Overseeing my care? I thought Casey was my doctor.”

“Casey? And how, exactly, did you end up on a first-name basis with Dr. MacTavish?”

Floria shrugged. “She was friendly, we got to talking and she told me to call her Casey.”

“Well, she is no longer your physician,” he grinned, “now, you have me! Talk about winning the lottery!”

“Hmm… not the same outcome. Why isn’t she my doctor any longer? No offense Carrick, or offense, it really doesn’t matter, but I would prefer her to you.”

“Is that any way to treat an old friend? Come on, I’m sure you don’t want to be in here any more than I want you to be. So, we have a mutual interest, getting you well and out that door as quickly as possible. Without sacrificing your care, of course.”

She laughed weakly, “We’re old friends now. That’s a laugh. I want Casey…”

He interrupted brusquely, “Dr. MacTavish.”

“…back on my case.”

He ignored her reaction as he read her chart. “According to the tests Dr. MacTavish ordered, it appears you have a foodborne illness that is resistant to antibiotics, a superbug. I am going to order culture and sensitivity testing, this way we can determine what medication will best treat your condition. I’ll keep you on current medications and fluids to control the symptoms until we can get you better… and on your way.”

She sighed heavily.

“Tobias, if I have the slightest suspicion that you are messing with my treatment…”

“Don’t make me add paranoia to your chart, that would undoubtedly lengthen your time here.”

“Still a comedian, I see.”

“It gets me through.

Now, do you have any questions before I go? I have other patients I need to see.”

She smiled condescendingly. “Sure. Let me see…” she said looking him over, “Hmm… I don’t see a ring, did you ever get married?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Still in touch with Ethan?”

“Also, irrelevant.”

“Am I hitting any nerves?”

“You started hitting nerves the moment I heard your name; but don’t worry, I have access to Novocain. So, before I go, do you have any questions regarding your treatment?”

“No, but stop by when you have a little more time, we simply must catch up.”

“Yeah, well. I’m busy. See you, Floria.”

_______________

Casey was surprised at how taken aback she was when she saw Tobias sitting at Ethan’s desk. Although it was only his first day away from the hospital, she already missed him terribly and having their last night together stolen from them didn’t help things. Tobias looked up and immediately recognized the distressed look on her face.

“Morning, Casey. I know what you’re thinking, it’s hard to see someone so good-looking sitting in this chair for a change, but I promise you will adapt. By the time Ramsey is back, you're gonna miss this.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled in spite of herself. “You are such an ass, you know that?”

“Yet I am one of your closest friends. You may want to analyze that. In fact, considering Lahela is also a close friend and you’re dating Ethan, you know, I don’t need to be a psychologist to tell, you’re pretty fucked up Casey. Sienna may be your only saving grace.”

She shook her head, “Sienna is everyone’s saving grace, T. But you, my friend, are incorrigible.”

“It’s part of my charm. So, why are you in early? I swear I told you to come in at 8:00 when I dropped you off last night.”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I may as well be here?”

“Couldn’t sleep? I would have thought you’d be out for the count.”

“Yeah, well my stomach was off… now before you tell me then cut back on school nights…”

He stopped what he was doing and folded his hands on the desk, looking directly at her, “Now, Dr. MacTavish, I’m going to paint a scene for you, OK? You’re at Donahue’s, on a school night, you’re having a few, letting loose, laughing a bit, turn to your left, who is seated next to you?”

“Probably you, maybe Bryce, sometimes Jackie.”

He held his hands up, “So do you really think I am going to chide you for that?”

“I guess not.”

He shot her one of those damn near-perfect smiles that gave her chills. Yes, she’s in love with Ethan, but she is not dead.

“I’m glad we cleared that up. So, while Ethan is gone if you’re bored, I can assure you have plenty of people who will be happy to entertain you on school nights, including yours truly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She sat at the table and began reviewing her cases for the day.

“Uhm, T, did you take me off the Dawson case?”

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, “I saw you had a lot on your plate, so I took it on.”

“So, you reassigned one of my least complicated cases, to yourself, when your workload has doubled with Ethan gone.”

“It was an administrative decision, Case,” he said dismissively. Casey did not appreciate being dismissed, especially when it came to work-related matters.

“You even took me off as backup? Look, I may not be firing on all cylinders this morning, but I’m still functioning, why don’t you explain what’s going on.”

The uncomfortable look on his face told Casey everything she needed to know. He was hiding something.

“Tobias, you’ve always been upfront with me, please don’t give me a reason to suspect that has changed.”

Frustrated, he stood up and shut the office door. “Come over here,” he said motioning to the couch in the corner of the office.

“I’m going to tell you, but this falls under what happens in the diagnostic team office, stays in the diagnostic team office, OK?”

“Isn’t that just our standard mantra?”

“It’s just a reminder. Did Ethan ever mentioned that we both had a thing for the same woman while we were at Hopkins?”

Casey raised her eyebrows, “He has. Are you telling me that woman is Floria?”

“I am telling you that woman was Flora.”

“Wow,” Casey said stunned, “small world.”

“Sometimes, entirely too small.”

“OK, but if you hadn’t told me, I would have never figured that out and, regardless of that fact, I would still treat her as I would any other patient, and you know that. So this still doesn’t make any sense to me.”

He sighed as his posture stiffened, “Because she is trouble, Casey, and I would prefer if you didn’t interact with her.”

Casey sat back in her chair crossing her arms and legs, “I’m listening.”

Of course, she couldn’t just let it go, this was Casey after all. Normally Tobias found her stubbornness to be one of her most endearing traits, but right now he could have done without it. He began pacing slowly. Just make something up, some stupid excuse, he thought; but then he looked over and saw her eyes fixed on him waiting for a reply. She was right, he valued the fact that she trusted him implicitly, and he did not want that to change. He pulled up a chair.

“Has Ethan told you much about her?”

She chuckled, “Tobias, I didn’t even know her name.”

“Well, then sit back, because we’re about to have storytime, and I will warn you, it’s not a fairy tale.” He rubbed his hand down his face before continuing, “She worked in our advisor’s office, she was young, charming, and very beautiful…”

“She is still very beautiful,” Casey interjected.

He chuckled. “It’s funny, Bryce and I had a conversation about inner beauty being equal to outer beauty recently, let’s just say she is a perfect example of when the two do not match up. Floria loved having two soon-to-be former best friends fighting over her like she was some sort of trophy. The fact that it was eroding our friendship just made it more intoxicating to her. It was all a game and we were too naïve to see we were just pawns. Floria’s only purpose for working at Hopkins was to land a doctor, a successful doctor or one that was known to be a rising star, she wanted to live a comfortable life, with a spouse that wouldn’t be around much so she could pursue… extracurricular activities… and a busy physician seemed to fit that bill. She eventually chose Ethan, and they dated for a little over a year. Later she told me she had preferred me, but selected him because he would be easier to manipulate.”

Casey spit out a bit of her coffee, “Not to interrupt, but she felt Ethan would be more likely to commit? Oh, that’s rich. Was he different then?”

Tobias shrugged. “I don’t know, but she believed so. It was his first serious relationship, and he was just love struck. I always felt he was looking for love he never received from…”

Realizing Tobias didn’t want to say the words, Casey stepped in. “His mother. That’s not abnormal for children who were abandoned.”

“Exactly, and she knew that and used it against him. He was obsessed, if she said jump, he asked how high? She did everything she could to make him insecure, and if he dared to question her about it, she would gaslight him. For someone who was so self-confident when it came to medicine, he was just lost when it came to relationships, so she was right, he was easier to manipulate.”

“It is not that I don’t believe you, T, but… this just sounds so different from the Ethan I know.”

“How do you think he became the Ethan you know? Louise was not the only woman that handed him the bricks he needed to build that wall around himself.”

Casey sighed and shook her head, “You mean the one that I have been throwing my by out trying to help him dismantle?”

Tobias smiled tenderly, “That very one, sweetheart. Anyway… graduation was nearing and if she was going to land him, she had to act quickly. She told him she wanted to follow him when he left for his residency and he was delighted until she made it clear that doing so would require a ring. That was one thing he was not ready to give in on. Marriage scared the hell out of him, and he knew he wasn’t ready, so he said he wanted to wait a while before taking that step. Let’s just say she was displeased that her puppet did not just follow her lead as he had been all along. They didn’t break up, but not because she wanted to stay with him, she was like an animal that plays with its prey before it finally devours it. So, one day, just after they selected an apartment together in Boston, she told him to go to her place and start dinner and that she’d be home soon. It was a setup, she wanted him to walk in on her in bed with our instructor, Dr. Dawson and she went out of her way to make sure Ethan knew she was completely naked except for the large diamond on her left hand. She pretended Ethan came of his own volition and Dawson thought he was an obsessed ex. That put Ethan at risk because Dawson was powerful both at Hopkins and in our profession. If he had made one call, he could have fucked up Ethan’s chances at Edenbrook and beyond. Luckily that didn’t come to pass.”

“Jesus,” Casey gasped.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t the end of it. For a while, he still called her, tried to get her back, and she fucked with his mind something fierce. She told him he was a boy and she needed a man, taunted him about his "mommy" not wanting him, why would he think anyone could ever love him, he would never be able to give a woman what they needed…and more shit like that. The problem was, he was desperate to have her back to prove he was loveable after all, and since she controlled him the entire time they were together, he internalized everything she said. After that, the Ethan we all knew was gone. He withdrew. He was broken. Everyone tried to help but, he was building that wall, and no one was getting in. She was treacherous, Case, and I haven’t seen her in over a decade, but I don’t think people like her change. She moved to Boston not all that long ago and it appears Dawson left her for one of his students. I’m sure that shattered any stability she may have had. I don’t want her anywhere near Ethan or you.”

“Wow. That’s a lot to take in. I certainly wouldn't associate with her, but we’re doctors, Tobias, we’re supposed to treat anyone who needs our care. But, considering all this, do you think you should be treating her? Maybe it’s best to toss this one back to Dr. Reynolds?”

“I want to keep an eye on her. I got her labs back this morning, it looks like a drug-resistant super-bug, and I can probably get her out of here within 2-weeks and make sure she is long gone before Ethan gets back. I want her on my radar.”

“Does she know Ethan is at Edenbrook? I mean, she knew his residency was and he isn’t exactly low profile.”

“I can’t say with any certainty. I am fairly confident she doesn’t know about your relationship with him, and we should keep it that way. Casey, can you please just trust me on this? Please.”

“Of course. You know I trust you and if you feel so strongly…”

“I do. Ahh, I didn’t expect this to be such an angst-filled morning.”

“Ehh, we work in a hospital. Angst is our life.” She gave Tobias a quick hug, “Thank you for sharing all of this with me. And, while I am a big girl, it does mean a lot to me that you care enough to look out for me… and for Ethan.”

He took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze, “Well, that’s what friends do. Now, enough of this bullshit, on to something more pleasant. Are you coming to my 4th of July party this weekend or what? All of your roommates, as well as Raf and Bryce, have responded, but not you and, frankly, I’m insulted.”

“I assumed it was a given! Of course, I’ll be there! The best company and, according to Bryce, the best view in Boston. Also, I’m dying to see your place; I heard it is breathtaking.”

“It’s adequate.”

She rolled her eyes, “Yeah, that’s how Bryce described it. I guess I’ll see for myself.”

_______________

Bryce and Raf strung twinkling red, white, and blue lights around the perimeter of Tobias’s palatial apartment. He did not feel they were necessary, but he could no longer bear to hear Bryce going on about the importance of a festive environment, so it was just easier to let him have his way. Tobias made sure that the bar was fully stocked and was preparing food for the buffet table when Casey arrived with Aurora, Sienna, and Jackie in tow.

“Hey ladies, welcome to my new digs!”

“Holy crap! Bryce did not exaggerate; this place is amazing!” Sienna squealed.

“Jesus, T,” Jackie gushed, “I thought Ramsey’s place was next level, but this is insane.”

“It’s ade…”

“Tobias, if you call this palace adequate one more time, so help me…this is not merely adequate.” Casey scolded.

“OK, fine. It’s a fucking amazing apartment, is that better?” he laughed.

“Much!”

Raf agreed, “I have been in Boston my whole life and I've never seen a view like this.”

“Yeah, we won’t have to fight for a good seat to see the fireworks tonight!” Aurora agreed.

“Well, if you still want a friendly competition, I do have a balcony off my bedroom. Four can fit out there comfortably, so you can fight over who gets to sit there if you like."

“Goddamn, a balcony too!” Jackie said, “I want to see the rest of this place!”

“The grand tour will commence when the food is done.”

“Well, then let me give you a hand. I mean, being your favorite co-worker alone should guarantee me a balcony spot, but I’m not taking any chances. I was the first to offer T, remember that” she said pointing a celery stalk at him with a smirk. “So, am I on veggie chopping duty?”

“Sure, I’ll make the dip. Teamwork!” he said giving her a high-five.

“You know, when determining who gets the VIP section, I think you should remember who provided these stunning decorations and who tolerates your shit the most,” Bryce said with a nod.

“That’s some mutual tolerating there, Bud!”

“So, what made you decide to upgrade, T? I mean, this is a lot of space for one person, you getting to that settling down with a family age?” Elijah laughed.

“What the fuck Elijah? Personal much? Why don’t you just ask his favorite sex position while you’re at it!” Jackie chided.

Tobias burst out laughing, “Really it’s OK, no offense taken. No, Elijah, I am not currently looking to start a family, I just wanted my dream place and I figured, I’m nearing 40 what was I waiting for? And Jackie, for the record, it is the g-whiz.”

“G-whiz, I’ve never heard of that one. Bryce, hand me my phone, I need to Google this shit,” Elijah said eagerly.

“You don’t know the freaking g-whiz?” Bryce said incredulously, “That’s it, party game, we’re playing Pictionary – sex positions edition!”

“God, I hope you’re joking Bryce,” Sienna said blushing.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to leave this room now” Casey added.

“You can’t, you’re helping with the food,” Tobias stuck a carrot stick in dip and dabbed it on Casey’s nose.

“Seriously T, you do that knowing I am not going to retaliate in this gorgeous kitchen.”

“That’s why I did it,” he smirked.

After the food was prepared Tobias gave a grand tour, everyone was beyond impressed, but Jackie had a plan of action.

“You know our lease is up at the end of September, so I will just take the larger guest room T. I mean, I’ll even take the smaller one, I’m not picky.”

“The problem is, once I take one of you in, I have to take all of you in, and I just can’t put up with Lahela that much. But I have been meaning to ask, where are you all going now that your residencies are ending? I haven’t gotten the lowdown yet?”

“We’re all staying pretty close, which has me so happy!” Sienna beamed.

“Yeah, well, you know about me!” Casey said, “Jackie and Sienna are also staying on at Edenbrook, Aurora is heading to Brigham, so she’s still in Boston, and Elijah is abandoning us for Yale/New Haven, but he’s within driving distance, so yeah, we’re all pretty happy that the gang is kind of staying together.”

“So are the four of you keeping the same place with Elijah leaving?” Raf asked.

“Jackie, Aurora, and I are going to get a new place together, time for an upgrade,” Sienna said.

“Yeah, and Casey is abandoning us to go live in sin with Ramsey!” Jackie laughed.

“Oh, I didn’t realize…” Tobias said a bit ruefully.

Casey felt guilt welling inside her. Tobias is her good friend, yet he learned that she and Ethan were in a relationship when they formally announced it to the team, and, now this is how he learned that they were moving in together. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t mentioned it T. It’s only because, officially, it’s still a way off. I’m staying at my place for the most part until the lease is up.”

Noticing the dynamic between the two, Sienna and Jackie exchanged a perplexed look.

“Hey, you don’t owe me an explanation, Case.” Tobias chuckled trying to recover, “It’s great news. I have to give you credit, you’re almost making the man almost human!”

“It’s been a Herculean task but, someone’s gotta do it! But on to the important business at hand! It’s beginning to get dark, when will you announce that I am sitting on the balcony.”

“Ah, that!” Tobias stood and grabbed a bowl and off the counter. “I put each of our names in here, the first four I pick get balcony seating.”

“Four? Pick three!” Aurora stated, “You’re the host, you should be out there!”

“I agree with Aurora!” Raf said, “Just make sure I’m one of the three that you pick!”

“OK, three it is then. Now, the moment of truth! Who will the lucky winners be! And remember, you will be lucky because you’ll be watching with me, it has nothing to do with the balcony!” Tobias said with a smirk.

“The company being a winning factor will only factual if I end up on the balcony too, T!” Bryce winked.

“Now that we let Scalpel Jockey get the last word in, the first lucky winner is…. Sienna!”

“Woo-hoo!”

“The second spot goes to… Elijah!”

“Ha-ha! Suckers!”

“OK, and the final winner is…” he selected…Jackie. But he said, “Casey.”

“As well it should be!!!”

“OK, I suggest we refill our drinks because the fireworks will be starting any moment."

Everyone followed Tobias to the kitchen, except for Bryce. He was suspicious. He noticed that Tobias crumpled the three winning names together and tossed them on an end table, he surreptitiously picked them up: Sienna, Elijah, Jackie. He looked over at his friend sitting at the kitchen counter, beaming as he engaged in a lively conversation with Casey. Bud, what the hell are you doing?

“OK losers, I’m heading to the balcony to watch the fireworks!” Elijah yelled.

“Does he realize we have the same view, but we have air conditioning?” Aurora asked.

“Juveniles,” Jackie responded.

As Casey made her way to the balcony, she stumbled into a wall.

“Hey, you OK Case?” Sienna asked concerned.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” she said rubbing her head, “just a little woozy.”

“Have you had a lot to drink?” Tobias asked.

“Just one beer. My stomach has been off, so I stuck with seltzer.”

“You’re probably just exhausted. Sit over here,” Tobias said motioning to a set of plush chairs in the corner of the balcony.

“I think I will.”

“Sienna, why don’t you take the other.”

“No, T. I’ve been sitting all day, I’d rather stand at the railing anyway, I’m short.”

“Sienna,” Casey laughed, “you will see just as well from here.”

“Casey! I want a front-row seat,” she said stamping her foot.

“Well, then I guess this seat is reserved for the old man of the group!” Tobias said falling back into it.

Casey turned to him and smiled, “This is just perfect Tobias, thanks so much for inviting us.”

“Hey, you know you’re welcome anytime, kid.”

The fireworks began right on schedule. The resplendent colors exploding over the Boston skyline were truly a sight to behold and Tobias’s apartment provided an unparalleled view. Everyone stood transfixed at the dazzling display taking place above them, everyone except for Tobias. As far as he was concerned the most enchanting sight that evening could not be found in the night sky, for she was already seated beside him. Casey’s expression was as joyful as a child seeing their presents under the tree on Christmas morning, her smile was captivating, and the fireworks were casting bright colors onto her face, transforming her into a work of art, she took his breath away. He knew he should not stare but found it impossible to divert his gaze. How many nights had he sat in that very spot dreaming of her sitting at his side? How could he possibly turn away now that she was there? He found his heart both full, then shattered within the same moment; he knew he had to let go of his feelings for Casey, but he had no idea how or even if it was possible at all.

As the evening dwindled, everyone offered to help clean up, but Tobias insisted he had it covered. Bryce pointed out he was responsible for the amazing décor so he should stay and take it down and Tobias couldn’t argue with that. Once everyone made their way out, Tobias grabbed two bottles of beer from the refrigerator and tossed one Bryce’s way.

“Why don’t we take a load off for a few before we clean this mess up.”

“Sounds good to me,” Bryce said taking a seat at the counter “and while we do that, why don’t you explain this to me?” He tossed the crumpled names Tobias’s way.

He sighed, “It’s not a capital offense, Bryce,”

“I didn’t say it was, but…”

“Bryce, before start scolding me, we sat together on a balcony. I wasn’t making moves on her and, even if I was stupid enough to do so, she is madly in love with Ethan, remember? Nothing is happening here Bryce.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You did this to be close to her, to have more time with her, and how is that going to help you move past this? The longer this goes on, the worse it will be.”

Tobias took the pillow next to him and tossed it to the other end of the couch, clearly frustrated. “Bryce, let me ask you something. Do you know the secret to just turning your feelings off? Because, if you do, please share it with me, because I don’t how. I love her Bryce. There, I finally said the words out loud, I love her and don’t know how I just turn that off.”

“I know you do," Bryce said sympathetically, "you didn’t need to say the words, I can see it. I feel for you, man, and I wish I had the answers, but one thing I know is you looking for opportunities to be closer to her… you’re playing with fire, and it is only a matter of time before someone gets burned. You’re acting like you’re in control, but you’re not.”

“I’m fine Bryce. She’s one of my best friends, I am not going to stop spending time with her. We discussed that.”

Bryce shook his head.

“What?” Tobias said, clearly becoming annoyed.

“Nothing man, just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

_______________

Two Weeks Later

Tobias sat at Ethan’s desk, he would be returning this seat to his boss and friend in just one week, and it could not come soon enough. It had nothing to do with the increased and more complex workload he inherited, he had handled that with aplomb earning praise from Naveen and gratitude from Ethan. But he needed Ethan’s presence to serve as a reminder that Casey only belonged to one person, and that was Ethan. His absence made it too easy for Tobias to deceive himself. The camaraderie and strong affection he and Casey shared had led patients and others to falsely believe that they were more than friends in the past, now Tobias realized that left unguarded, it could cause him to deceive himself as well. He needed Ethan back.

He looked at his watch: 12:35. Casey was meeting him in the office for a working lunch at 1:00, he told her he would arrange the food. Fusili carbonara and chicken piccata from Antonio’s. Why wouldn’t he get her two favorite dishes from her favorite restaurant near the hospital? Bryce was right, he was not in control.

When he returned to the office Casey was seated at the table appearing very tired and anxious. Yet another reason Tobias was eager for Ethan to get home, everyone was overworked, but it seemed to be taking a toll on Casey most of all.

“Hey Case, I got your favorites here.”

“Is this Antonio’s?” she asked.

“Yeah, I figured we may as well eat well.”

She only offered a weak smile as she placed a minuscule piece of chicken and a couple of tablespoons of fusilli on her plate. Tobias raised a brow, typically food from Antonio’s elicited a reaction similar to what the team now called the Memorial Day bagel lust incident.

“Everything OK, kid? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“I’m fine. I’m reviewing the notes for the new admit, want to go over them together.”

“Well, sure, that’s why we’re here, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

She lifted a forkful of fusilli to her mouth and, gagging, immediately spit it out. After gulping down some water she said, “Tobias, taste your fusilli, is there something wrong with it.”

He took a forkful. “No, same as always to me.”

He watched as her face grimaced, she was trying hard to conceal it, so he didn’t dare bring it up.

They began reviewing the new patient's records, but Casey was not fully present.

Without a word, Casey lowered her face into her hands and said, “Tobias, I need a friend.”

He jumped up and moved across the table to sit next to her, he looked at her with worry etched on his face, “Hey, what’s up, Casey, I’m here.”

“What happens here, stays here mode in effect right?”

“You can always trust me.”

She diverted her eyes. “I’m late.”

“For what, we don’t have to meet until…. ohhh… do you mean…”

“Yep. That late. I just realized today; I’ve been so busy I lost track of time and…” she trailed off as she tried not to cry.

“OK,” he said placing a hand on her back, “Have you tested?”

“Nope. I was hoping ignoring it would make it go away.”

“Yeah, um, you’re a doctor you know it doesn’t work that way.”

She shot him a look and he took note that this was not the time for sarcasm.

“I am late. Then there are my stomach issues, and not being able to eat my favorite fusilli, thank you for getting that by the way…”

“Don’t mention it…”

“I mean and I’m crying a lot, like now, I’m going to cry and I .. I…” she closed her eyes to prevent tears from falling.

“Come here,” he said taking her in his arms. “Casey, let’s go downstairs and get you tested. You have to know what you’re dealing with and, right now you don’t, you could be worrying yourself over nothing.”

“NO! I don’t want to go downstairs. I don’t need the entire hospital talking about this!”

He looked at his phone. “Inez is on duty. You can talk to her; you know she can be trusted.”

“OK. Will you come with me?”

“That was never even a question, let’s go.”

As expected, Inez was helpful and understanding. Unfortunately, the lab was backed up and it would take about an hour for the results to come in.

“That’s not a problem,” Tobias told Casey, “we’re going to the office and I’ll clear our schedules for the next hour.”

“T, you really don’t…”

“It’s not up for discussion, come on.”

Tobias locked the office door.

“OK, why don’t you lie down on the couch, you should rest.”

“Rest isn’t likely right now Tobias.”

“Have you told Ethan?”

She shook her head as she clenched her eyes shut. “No, if it’s positive I’ll tell him, but if not, there is no need.”

“Casey, he loves you and this involves him, I think you should…”

“He’ll be mad at me, it’s my fault.”

Tobias didn’t mean to but a small smile spread on his lips, “Casey, he knows how this works and the fault would be assigned to him too.”

“You don’t understand we were at.. uhm, I’ll spare you the details.”

“Thank you. But whatever they are, Case, I know Ethan would never be mad at you over this.”

“I know, I’m just scared. Plus, he is so busy, when I do get to talk to him he is just exhausted so, I don’t want to worry him unless I have to.”

“Well, how about this, let’s get the results back and take it from there.”

She nodded.

“What can I do to help you now?”

“Can we talk? Unrelated stuff. I need the distraction.”

“Sure,” he said taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

“OK, what should we talk about?” She asked.

“Your pick.”

After a moment she appeared excited to have thought of a topic.

“OK. Tobias, what made you decide to become a doctor?”

“Random, but OK. My grandfather was a biologist, my dad was a pediatrician, and my mom is a nurse, so you can see there is a little history there.”

“Really? I had no idea. How did I not know this?”

“Because I never told you, he laughed. “So, what inspired you? Doctors in your family?”

“Oh, no, not at all. But, in a way, my grandfather was responsible for me wanting to be a doctor.”

“How so?”

“He had this old toy doctor's kit; it was his from when he was a child. I was obsessed with it. It was a metal box containing a toy stethoscope, thermometer, and knee hammer. He even painted it purple for me, my favorite color. I’m sure it was considered totally unsafe by the time I was using it” she said with a laugh. “I examined my parents, grandparents, pets, stuffed animals, you name it. That’s when I started telling everyone I was going to be a doctor.”

He smiled, “Your story is much better than mine.”

“Yeah, I always said I would display it when I became a doctor myself.”

“So why didn’t you?”

She shrugged, “It got lost when my family moved, what are you going to do? Has it been an hour yet?”

He laughed, “You know it hasn’t.”

“OK, so what else can we talk about… oh, I know. How did your lunch with Ethan go? I asked him, but you know, I got a ‘very well’ and he moved on.”

“It was really nice. He said you were the inspiration.”

“Me? How so?”

“Because you’re important to both of us and he felt we should repair our relationship. I’m really glad because I realized I miss him and I’m glad we are friends again.”

She smiled. “That makes me so happy. You know, you’re both really special to me too, in case you didn’t notice.”

He grinned, “I did.”

“T, thanks for staying with me.”

“Hey, no place else I would be.”

She smiled, “How are you still single? You’re just amazing …” she trailed when she saw his face fall a bit, “Oh, I’m sorry, that was inappropriate…”

He interrupted her, “Case, it is fine, if you were just my co-worker it might be inappropriate, but you’re my friend. I’m sitting here with you waiting on a pregnancy test result, I think that qualifies as more intimate than asking me why I am single.”

“True. OK, then why are you?” she said with a giggle.

He sat in silence, considering his answer, “I spent most of my adult life avoiding anything serious, it just didn’t want that. But right now… I’m just not up for it yet.”

“You still care for her, the woman you told me about, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

He put on a wistful smile, “Yes, I do. Very much.”

“And you’re sure she’s not interested.”

“150%. She is just… she’s very special, and it is going to take some time to get over her. It wouldn’t be fair for me to date others when I feel this way, so I’m off the market for now. I will let you know as soon as I decide to get back out there.”

“Tobias, I’m so sorry. I wish you could have been there for you when all this was happening, I feel like a shitty friend. But I’m here for you now.”

“You’re not shitty friend, it wasn’t something I wanted to share. That’s not on you or anyone else.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think she’s an idiot.”

He swallowed, “Well, it’s a little more complicated than that. But you don’t need to worry about me.”

“So says the man sitting here worrying about me. What did you say earlier, that’s what friends do.”

Just then she got a text. “It’s Inez,” she said running to get her laptop “she rushed my labs. She is a freaking angel.”

Casey tapped ferociously at the keyboard to pull up her chart… “YES!” she said spinning around in the chair, “Two tests, both negative. Oh, thank God.”

“See, I told you to stay positive. Well, in this case, you didn’t want positive, but… you know what I mean.”

“Oh, thank God! I would have freaking died. I wouldn’t have been able to handle that right now.”

“That’s not true, you handle whatever is thrown at you with grace. Besides, having a little Casey out there would have made the world a better place in my opinion. Now, another little Ethan, hmm.. that’s up for debate.”

She pushed his shoulder and laughed.

“But I get it’s not the right time. I’m happy for you, and I want you to take the rest of the day off.”

“Normally I would disagree, but I think I will take you up on that today."

She stopped before heading out the door.

"Hey, T, if you get out at a decent time, want to come over and watch a movie together or something. Sienna and Jackie are working the late shift tonight, Aurora has a date and Elijah hasn’t been home a lot lately…”

“Do you not want to be alone?”

“No, I really don’t.”

“I just … I have a lot to get done here. But our friendly neighborhood Scalpel Jockey text me a while ago to see if I wanted to hang out tonight. I’m sure he’d be down for some friend time with you, why don’t you give him a buzz.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you for today, Tobias. Seriously, you have no idea how much it means to me.”

“It’s nothing, go rest. Text Bryce!”

He stared out the window after she left the room. Phone in hand, it took all his willpower to stop himself from texting her saying he was free after all. His heart and his head were competing for control, and his head finally won.

His phone rang: INCOMING: Ethan

“Hey, buddy, how are things going at Mayo?”

“They’re going well, lots of good things accomplished here. But I can’t wait to get home.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait for you to be back too.”

_______________

Sienna was sitting at the nurse’s station yawning. She was one of the few people who didn’t hate the night shift because she enjoyed the relative quiet, but she was just too tired today. She started walking down the hall to get a cup of coffee when Jackie came running up behind her.

“Hey Si, wait up! Do you know if Casey is at home, or is she staying over Ethan’s tonight?”

“I think she’s home, not much sense in staying at Ethan’s until he is back from Mayo. Plus, if she wants to spend more time with us before moving in with him, her time is running out,” she laughed.

“Oh, good! I left my phone home by mistake; I was hoping she could run it over to me. Could you call her and ask for me?”

"Sure thing! I’ll do it now.”

Floria had been laying in bed, wide awake and overheard the conversation in the quiet hallway. She sat up, took out her phone and Googled Ethan Ramsey. A smirk spread across her face. So, Ethan is here at Edenbrook. “My boyfriend is the opera aficionado …” “or is Casey staying at Ethan’s tonight?” Interesting. Very interesting. She began typing a text:

Dr. Reynolds, I have changed my mind, I think I would like to discuss that offer with you after all.

Placing the phone down on the nightstand, she rolled over and made herself comfortable. A smile spread across her face.

Supplemental chapter: Experience Casdy & Ethan's 🔥 reunion before chapter 9 begins NSWF/ 18 + Good to be home...

Chapter 9: What Tomorrow Holds

Series Masterlist

@adiehardfan @barbean @binny1985 @bluerosesbloom @brokenmemoriesblog @charisworld @chemist-ana @coffeeheartaddict @custaroonie @darkswagamerpiratecowboyclown @dottie-minerva-mikas

@everybodyscreamsposts @ianna47 @katrinegrey @kat-tia801 @kiwiloss @lady-calypso @liaromancewriter @mjlbwork @moonplaychoices @mysticaurathings @panda9584 @parisa-kh @personthatlovesshippings @rosilyjj @scapsbru99 @schnitzelbutterfingers @secretaryunpaid @shanzay44 @shewillreadyou @shygirl4295 @vika-rafa @youlookappropriate @alina-yol-ramsey @jc-ckie-blog @codykosuckmytoe @dorisz

@chaoticchopshopheart @swiminthegarden @imma-too-many-fandoms @queencarb @choicesaddict5 @teenagecaliforniadreamers @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @kachris

[theotherhufflepuff]

Simon Snow Trilogy Tarot Cards...

Ok so, a little while ago I saw this frankly stunning artwork by @vkelleyart and I started thinking about the Major Arcana archetypes and how characters from my favourite book series could fit into them.

So I made this list. It took a lot of thought and I’m still not 100% sure on some of them but I have explained my thought process for each card.

I don’t know how much crossover there is in the Venn diagram of “Simon Snow fans” and “tarot readers” but I’d love to hear your opinions and/or alternative suggestions (be respectful though, obviously). I’ve left “visual prompts” for most of the cards explaining what they looked like in my imagination and if anyone wants to draw any of these (or their own alternative version!) please tag me; it would make my day! I can’t draw for toffee so I am 1000% never gonna try to illustrate any of them myself.

List under the cut because it is loooong.

Spoilers ahead for the whole series!

0 The Fool - Shepard - Shepard just follows magickal creatures around and says “yes” to everything... he is the pure embodiment of the Fool archetype to me; care-free, innocent... prepared for everything and yet totally clueless. Visual prompt: Shepard about to (attempt to) step into the fog as he follows a fairy into the forest.

1 The Magician - Penelope - “Penelope Bunce is a fierce magician, I don’t mind saying” Baz, at least once in each book. Penny never worries about not having the power or words available to do whatever she wants; she is comfortable in her power and it is always there, ready to be wielded however she sees fit. Visual prompt: Penny wearing her Stevie Nicks cape, standing by a chalkboard in the classic “Magician” pose, ring clearly held aloft.

2 The High Priestess - Dr Mitali Bunce - Dr Bunce is possibly a more formidable magician than her daughter. Highly intelligent, straightforward and, let’s be honest, judgemental. But she does have all the answers. Visual prompt: Dr Bunce carrying around her laptop, phone sandwiched between her ear and her shoulder.

3 The Empress - Lucy Salisbury - Lucy exudes the nurturing, Earth Mother vibes that are central to the Empress archetype. She saw the best in everyone and all she wanted was to love Davy and live with him in their cottage with her chickens and their child. Visual prompt: Lucy, barefoot and pregnant, feeding the chickens outside of their cottage.

4 The Emperor - Lamb - This is one of the ones I’m not totally sure about. I went through a few different ideas but ultimately settled on Lamb as the “Vampire King of Las Vegas”. He is an imposing figure, ruling his city with an iron fist; if you are in his favour, Vegas is your playground, but cross him and you will suffer the consequences. Visual prompt: Lamb sits on an antique chair in his opulent suite at the Katherine, the lights of night time Vegas visible through the window behind him.

5 The Hierophant - The Mage - Again, this one took some thought and I’m sure some people will disagree with this interpretation... I’m not completely sold on it myself. The Mage was all about reforming the old traditions of the World of Mages and he amassed a following by doing so. But he turned out to be somewhat of a false prophet; abusing his power to oppress those he deemed “the enemy”. Visual prompt: The Mage in his Robin Hood costume, sitting at his desk at the top of the Weeping Tower, surrounded by his piles of banned books.

6 The Lovers - Simon and Baz - Obviously. As stated at the top of this post, I love @vkelleyart’s version of this card, but there are a lot of scenes across the series that could be used to illustrate this archetype. I personally always love to see the original “and then he kisses me” scene.

7 The Chariot - Fiona Pitch - I struggled with this one a bit and I don’t really think that this is the ideal version. But the image of Fiona, rolling up to Blackfriars bridge in her vintage sports car to rescue Baz from the Numpties really stuck with me so that’s what I went with, for lack of a better idea.

8 Strength - Ebb - Ebb is often dismissed and underestimated by other magicians but she is wicked powerful. But more than that, the Strength card is about inner strength, self control and the wisdom to know when to fight, and when to rest. Ebb is highly intuitive about the people - and goats - around her and is always careful not to talk about her twin brother, only conceding that she knows of his presence once a year and never giving in to the temptation to talk directly to him. Ebb saw the war coming and knew that she could probably end it all by herself with the power she had; but she also knew that she didn’t want that and she had the strength to say no, to eschew the expectations the rest of the World of Mages placed upon her and live quietly, instead. Visual prompt: Ebb in the hills behind the school with the goats, she wears a flower crown that the Dryad made her.

9 The Hermit - Agatha - the Hermit eschews the outside world in order to take an inner journey of self discovery, knowing that this is the only way to find real answers and achieve real growth. Agatha, jaded by the World of Mages, took herself off to California, leaving her wand at home. She didn’t know what she wanted but she knew it wasn’t magic. Visual prompt: Agatha sits on the beach at twilight by a small campfire, Lucy the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel by her side.

10 The Wheel of Fortune - The Crucible - The Crucible’s decisions, like the Wheel’s, are unpredictable and inevitable. Once it’s happened, you’re stuck with the consequences - sometimes bad (being stuck with a toff vampire who hates you) and sometimes good (getting the best room in Mummers house).

11 Justice - Natasha Grimm-Pitch - Natasha needed justice to find peace; her whole story is about justice. She was swift to act when the vampires attacked Watford, dispatching them without hesitation. When she came through the veil to find Baz and ask him to bring her murderer to justice, she knew that would also provide some closure for him, too, both for her death, and for his. Visual prompt: Natasha Grimm-Pitch appearing from beyond the veil, looking for Baz and finding Simon.

12 The Hanged One - Nicodemus - The Hanged One is about feeling stuck, but also about finding peace where you are when there’s nothing you can do about it. Nicodemus chose to cross over for eternal life, but he was stricken from the book; his (considerable) magic effectively taken from him and his fangs removed. He was stuck in between - not a full vampire, not a magician; he exists on the fringes of both communities. He got himself there and then he had to figure out how to get by, carve out a place for himself in order to survive. Visual prompt: Nicodemus sits in the tree in the garden of his mother’s house in South London, waiting for Ebb to come and sit on the empty bench beneath him.

13 Death - [scene on the Great Lawn] - Ok, so.. this might need some explaining. My immediate thought for this card was that it should be the Humdrum but Death is all about clearing out the old junk in your life that doesn’t serve you in order to make space for the new. And the Humdrum isn’t making space for anything. So I was thinking about times that has happened in the story and I thought about how the death of the Mage made room for real progress and an end to the war with the old families. Visual prompt: Penny and Baz (literally) run into a fleeing Agatha on the Great Lawn; the Weeping Tower looms in the background, the Mage and Simon visible through the blown-out stained glass windows.

14 Temperance - Simon and the Humdrum - Temperance is, as you might expect, about balance and harmony. Simon used so much magic at once that he couldn’t control it and it tore holes in the magickal atmosphere. Simon had to fill the Simon-shaped hole to restore equalibrium and stop the magickal firmament from collapsing altogether. Visual prompt: Simon kneeling in the Weeping Tower, pouring his magic into the Humdrum as he fades away.

15 The Devil - Smith Smith-Richards - The Devil is about feeling trapped by temptations in your life, often because we’re afraid of what we would do with the freedom we’d have if we let them go. Which got me thinking about Smith-Richards (that name never gets any less ridiculous) and all the magicians who were taken in by the temptation of “fixing” their magic. But it was a false promise and those magicians who narrowly escaped taking Smith-Richards’ spell were all freed from the idea of their magic being “broken” in the first place. Visual prompt: Smith-Richards (looking like the guy who would be cast to play Simon in the Netflix series) standing on a stage in the packed-out White Chapel, rapt audience hanging on his every word.

16 The Tower - The Humdrum - Originally I wanted to use the Weeping Tower for this card because the imagery is on point but the meaning doesn’t match. The Tower is about absolute destruction, the crumbling of something you thought core to your being. The Humdrum steals magic and renders magicians homeless because of it. The Tower is about having to start again from the ground up - just as the Grimms did when all the magic was drained from Hampshire. Visual prompt: The Humdrum, wearing Simon’s face, stands in the grounds of Pitch Manor, laughing. (I have always thought of the holes looking like a burn in a piece of paper - sort of glowing and smouldering at the edges as it eats away the atmosphere. I know the holes can’t actually be seen - the Normals would freak out - but that is imagery I would use here)

17 The Star - Lady Ruth’s candles - The Star is about hope and healing after the devastation of the Tower. Lady Ruth’s candles were a symbol of hope that kept her going when she thought she had lost her children. They provided comfort and, at the end when it became clear the Lucy was gone, the healing of knowing that her child had finally found his way home to his family. Visual prompt: Lady Ruth’s candles in front of a window, a bright star can be seen through the window.

18 The Moon - Agatha and Simon - So, the Moon is all about examining blurred lines between illusion and reality - nothing looks totally clear in the moonlight. It reminded me of how Simon never really seemed to have a clear view of his feelings for Agatha and what their relationship was. When he properly examined his feelings, he found that he didn’t love Agatha and was going through the motions because he thought it was what other people expected of him. Agatha was doing the same. It also brought to mind Simon, going out of his mind worrying about Baz when he was missing - as well as basically every other thought Simon ever has about Baz before Christmas Eve 2015 - and somehow mistaking it for hating him?? Simon is not stupid but sometimes he’s real dumb. Visual prompt: Agatha and Simon meet on the ramparts, both looking for Baz, and break up.

19 The Sun - Simon - This card is all about innocence, optimism and joy. Nothing about this series personifies this more than Simon flying above Shepard’s truck in America, feeling free and hopeful about the future for the first time in over a year. Visual prompt: Shepard’s truck drives through the vast empty desert, the sun beating down. Simon flies above the truck, joy on his face.

20 Judgement - Niamh and Agatha - Ok, this one was hard to figure out and this is maybe not the right solution, but I was very stuck. Judgement is about self improvement through self reflection. As a small twist on that theme; Niamh and Agatha challenge each other’s view of themselves and their interactions with the world around them. Visual prompt: Agatha and Niamh, sweating to death in Niamh’s “shitty Ford Fiesta” (I’m very salty about that line; my Ford Fiesta is lovely and it has aircon). Niamh is frowning, obviously.

21 The World - Simon, Baz, Penny and Shepard - The World is about completeness, the ending of a story, fulfilment and belonging. At the end of AWTWB, Simon has finally found his biological family, he is starting to accept that his boyfriend and his found family love him for who he is, magic or no, and he can finally start to imagine a future for himself. Baz has learned new information about his vampirism, Penny has found new confidence and Shepard is finally fully accepted into the group. Visual prompt: Baz, Penny and Shepard sit on Simon’s sofa (possibly still pink from Baz’s spell, possibly he spelled it navy blue again) Simon sits on the floor. They’re all eating leftover sandwiches and cake from Lady Ruth’s.

[kindofwriter]

Pt. 1

Pt. 2 of ‘The Gang Meets Wilde’

Sorry for the long post, I have an illegal number of pictures, so it won’t let me format :|

Now that I’ve got all the Zoscar out of my system I’m going to do every Sasha scene ever bc she’s the love of my life.

Also, I don’t think Zolf had any healing magic left at this point, but even way back when I first listened I imagined him immediately trying (and only partially succeeding) to heal Wilde. I just wanted someone to take my soft poetry boy away from Bertie!

Transcript under the cut:

ZOLF places a hand gently on SASHA's upper arm. She looks down at him, then reluctantly backs up with the dagger. WILDE stands and smooths his waistcoat. SASHA is still stood uncomfortably close to him.

WILDE: I just thought you might-

HAMID: What is your job?

ZOLF: Actually, just before, that, Hamid?

ZOLF: Actually, just before, that, Hamid?

ZOLF: Actually, just before, that, Hamid?

WILDE (TRYING TO MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH ZOLF): What isn't?!

ZOLF: Ah, lo-, shut up- Hamid? A word, please?

BERTIE: I've got a thing or two in mind...

HAMID nods and starts to lead ZOLF into his bedroom. As they leave ZOLF tries to throw BERTIE a dirty look, but he's already back to making eyes at WILDE. ZOLF instead throws SASHA a sympathy glance, before the door shuts behind him and HAMID.

ZOLF: You realise that what we're actually doing is kind of a bit... secret, international, governmental level... So we probably just shouldn't be telling him about-

HAMID: Yes, of course, I won't tell him about that.

ZOLF: (WITH SOME DOUBT) Okay, just making sure.

CUT TO LIVING ROOM

SASHA has backed even further away from WILDE, though she is still pointing her dagger at him in a threatening manner. WILDE has sidled up to BERTIE and is running a finger along his breast plate.

WILDE: That's very fine armour, is that all yours? I mean, does it fit, is it exaggerating? I'm just curious.

BERTIE (NOT SO MUCH FLIRTING AS ENJOYING THE OPPORTUNITY TO BRAG): Oh, no, this is a very real representation of what lies beneath.

The bedroom door opens and HAMID then ZOLF reemerge, ZOLF looking slightly annoyed at himself for pulling HAMID aside for what was seemingly nothing.Taking in SASHA's perplexed expression, HAMID pushes his way between BERTIE and WILDE and begins to pour her a whiskey.

WILDE: See, isn't this nice? Everyone's getting together-

WILDE gazes at BERTIE over HAMID's head.

WILDE: Everyone's having a good time.

HAMID passes the drink to SASHA.

SASHA: You're all okay with the fact that this guy's been stalking us?

HAMID looks from SASHA to WILDE, who has once against closed the gap between himself and BERTIE and leaning seductively against the mantle.

HAMID: I don't think he's a threat. Let's- We'll talk to him, we'll find out-

WILDE: (TURNING DRAMATICALLY AWAY FROM BERTIE) Woah now! Threat, really?

Having lost WILDE's attention, BERTIE begins to examine his own armour. WILDE steps into the centre of the room. It's clearly not meant as a threatening gesture, but with BERTIE on the other side of the room WILDE easily towers over HAMID, ZOLF, and SASHA.

HAMID: Let's all just relax.

SASHA: Just 'cause someone's charming doesn't mean they're not a threat.

ZOLF: I mean, I was really hoping to have a debrief and actually do some work.

WILDE: (TURNING THE CHARM UP. HE REALLY WANTS TO IMPRESS ZOLF) Oh, don't mind me, honestly, I just thought, you know, it would be useful for you to have a single point of contact, you know? So many reporters hounding you. If people were to know not to come to you because you're already taken, as it were, think of all of the, think of all of the hassle dealt with. I mean, look at me! Of course I can spin this any way you want!

ZOLF: (NOT IMPRESSED) I don't know if breaking into our friend's apartment is supposed to be some kind of grand master play of showing how competent you are-

WILDE: I'm sorry, I just-

ZOLF (ANNOYED): But all it makes me is not trust you and not like you, so that was a misstep.

WILDE has that look on his face again; a desperate mix of wanting to win ZOLF over and wanting to choke him to death.Hearing the shift in tone, BERTIE finally turns his attention away from his armour and shouts from beside the liquor cabinet.

BERTIE: I will take it upon myself to investigate the good character of this young man through a thorough interview and extensive debriefing.

ZOLF forgotten, WILDE turns to BERTIE, twiddling a strand of hair between his fingers.

WILDE: Oh, please do.

BERTIE: I have a private-

HAMID (NOW VERY AWARE OF WHAT BERTIE IS DOING): Possibly over some wine?

BERTIE: I find that wine will often loosen the... tongue.

WILDE giggles slightly. ZOLF gives the back of his head the dirtiest look it is possible to give.

BERTIE: I volunteer for this task. I feel it is incumbent upon me to take this burden of responsibility, take, take one for the team, as it were. And indeed dispense one for the team. You know, I have a private interview suite at The Ritz that I feel might be a more appropriate venue for such a, an extended and languorous and vigorous... intercourse.

HAMID (AT THE SAME TIME AS BERTIE SAYS 'INTERCOURSE,' CLEARLY TRYING TO KEEP THINGS PG): Questioning.

ZOLF looks less than impressed, but this is nothing new for BERTIE. SASHA, looking quite lost, hugs her dagger to her chest.

ZOLF: Okay, can I just make one request?

WILDE whips back around to look eagerly at ZOLF.

WILDE: Oh?

BERTIE (SERIOUS): You can't watch.

ZOLF's face scrunches in a display of grey-ace disgust.

ZOLF (GENUINLY HORRIFIED): Why would I want to watch- (HE CORRECTS HIMSELF TO A MORE NEUTRAL TONE)You having a conversation with this nice man?

ZOLF gives WILDE a sickly sweet smile that is somehow more threatening than any of his openly malicious glares.

ZOLF: However, in the fits of your interview just please try and be discreet with our work.

BERTIE: All of the bellowing will be at an indoor volume, I promise you that, Mr Smith.

WILDE (LOOKING BACK TO BERTIE): I don't think you'll be in a state to bellow the way I interview. Ha!

BERTIE: Ha ha! Hmm.

WILDE (NERVOUS, OVERLAPPING): Well, I mean-

ZOLF (OVERLAPPING): Right, well-

WILDE: No one else care to take me up on the offer?

ZOLF: No, if you wanna take him into your hands then you're more than welcome.

BERTIE: Oh, yes! 

WILDE: Well, shall we say, uh-

SASHA (INTERRUPTING, ANNOYED BUT ALSO WITH GENUINE QUESTIONING): So we're, we're all alright with this just, like, you come in, you break into someone's house, you know secrets about us, and then you flirt your way out of it? 

ZOLF has the decency to look ashamed about his last innuendo. BERTIE does not in the slightest.

SASHA: That's just, just so I know, right, because, uh, seems like we can take down monsters, uh, and, you know, deal with the police, and, uh, fight our way out of burning buildings, but just so I know that that is the one thing that, like, you know, just... being aware.

HAMID: It's not a very difficult apartment to break into, in fairness.

SASHA nods at this; clearly she thought the exact same thing upon seeing it for the first time.

WILDE: What were the monsters?

WILDE reaches inside his coat for a second notebook, identical to the one ZOLF burned earlier.A moment of awkward, stuttered silence ensues.

BERTIE (TO THE RESCUE, FOR ONCE): We've all been fighting our own internal demons, aaaagh.

WILDE (DISAPPOINTED): Ah. Right.

WILDE slips the notebook back.

WILDE: But this was after the, the British Museum? Yes?

ZOLF (TEARSLY): Yes.

WILDE: Tell you what, shall we say nine o'clock, Bertie, yes?

BERTIE: Excellent.

ZOLF: Mr Wilde, let me make something very clear.

WILDE: Please do!

WILDE slips a hand into a different pocket in his jacket and hands a small card to BERTIE.

ZOLF: If anything untoward makes it into the public eye that we do not want into the public eye I will drown you in a bucket.

WILDE straightens from handing over the card and simply smirks down at ZOLF.

WILDE: Well that's seemingly unfair, Mr Smith. I mean, honestly-

ZOLF: And it's still going to happen. So don't try and barter-

WILDE: How would you know it's from me?

ZOLF: Just be very careful.

WILDE (PUTTING IT ON FOR ZOLF'S AMUSEMENT. ZOLF IS NOT AMUSED): So you're telling me that if a, a set of strapping bucks and, and uh, buxom, I want to say?

WILDE looks at SASHA.

WILDE: Ladies?

ZOLF: I could-

SASHA: What? Wait, what? No, nah, no, no wait, what?

WILDE: Under all of that you might be. Who knows? 

SASHA: What?

WILDE (TRAILING OFF): All I'm saying is: you draw a lot of attention, I can't promise you'll never get attention.

ZOLF (STARTS SPEAKING OVER WILDE): I am very keen to cut to the quick and just drown you in a bucket now.

SASHA: Yeah.

BERTIE: Steady.

SASHA: Sounds good.

ZOLF: So stop it with your whole aloof, cleaverer than me kind of thing you've got going on here. If you reveal anything that I do not want to be revealed about this team and their-

ZOLF loses momentum a little as he looks over at BERTIE.

ZOLF: Deeds.

Pulling himself together again, ZOLF reaches up, grabs hold of WILDE's lapels, and yanks him down to ZOLF's height. Surprise, then annoyance, then what can only be described as a flustered blush pass across WILDE's face.

ZOLF (TENSE): I will drown you in a bucket!

BERTIE: Don't worry, Mr Smith, I promise to reveal precisely the right amount.

ZOLF: Good.

WILDE smirks, his moment of frozen, flustered panic over, and he reaches out a hand and lightly bops ZOLF's nose.

WILDE: I'll try not to enjoy it.

Without even a grimace to first indicate what he's about to do, ZOLF rears back and headbutts WILDE. There's an awful crunch as his skull collides with WILDE's nose, which immediately begins to start pouring blood, and WILDE topples backwards onto the floor.

There's a collective gasp as everyone, including ZOLF, realises what he's just done. ZOLF reaches out for WILDE's hand, immediately trying to rectify his mistake, but WILDE pulls back, cupping his hands to his face. Instead ZOLF places a hand on WILDE's cheek, rather aggressively, and mutters a few words. A soft glow emanates from ZOLF's hand and there's another click. Before ZOLF has even had the chance to move his hand away BERTIE's gauntlet smacks him across the cheek and he's knocked prone.

SASHA rushes to check on ZOLF and HAMID makes a futile attempt at pulling BERTIE back. WILDE cautiously removes his hands from his face. His nose is perfectly straight, but still gushing blood. He takes a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabs at it, shakily getting to his feet.

WILDE: Well, that was unpleasant, I'm so sorry to have let things escalate like that. I'll see you later, Bertie. Pleasure meeting all of you.

SASHA helps ZOLF to his feet, who immediately starts glaring at BERTIE across the room.

ZOLF (BITTERLY, NOT LOOKING AT WILDE): Pleasure.

WILDE: And I hope to see you around again soon. Yep... Okay...

WILDE steps gingerly between the stare-off and to the door. He gestures at it to HAMID.

WILDE: Would you like me to lock it on the way out?

HAMID's shoulders heave as he gives a massive sigh.

HAMID: No, that's fine.

WILDE: Oh, okay.

WILDE starts to leave.

HAMID: Please, Mr Wilde.

WILDE sticks his head back around the doorframe.

HAMID: I will happily talk to you another time, but please arrange an interview in a proper location, and do not come unexpectedly.

WILDE: I'll make sure to get a, uh, a contact time and place from Bertie. Okay?

HAMID (DISGRUNTLED): Very well.

WILDE: Have a good one.

WILDE heads into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

WILDE STOOD IN FRONT OF HAMID'S DOOR

WILDE sighs, and as he does so something about his appearance changes. His hair is less uniform, face paler, eyes more sunken, waist less defined. The colours on his clothes are slightly less garish than they previous seemed.WILDE wipes the rest of the blood from his nose, then stuffs the handkerchief back into his pocket.

He straightens, waves his hand, and suddenly he's immaculate again. He shuffles slightly, like he's about to take off, then pauses for a moment. WILDE lifts a hand to his cheek, where ZOLF cast his healing spell, and smiles; soft and genuine and private. Then, still smiling a little, he takes off down the corridor.

[mlqcconfessions]

MLQC Headcanons - “Are you jealous?”

Because Tumblr likes being a butt, the ask sent by nonny was DELETED before I could answer it! But I did manage to read the request in my notifications. Sorry to the anon if it’s a little different than what you had asked 

Characters: 4 Main Guys X MC

Prompt: Jealousy over someone getting a little too close to you

Warnings: FLUFF OVERLOAD

Victor

Your relationship with LFG’s CEO was still secret

Of course, you were the one who suggested the idea (he could care less what the press thinks, but didn’t want to compromise your privacy)

You’re actually kind of sad that he puts distance between you two during work (I know I said that, but even when we’re alone in his office?)

He makes it up by kissing you in the elevator (Goldman doesn’t understand why you’re standing so far away from Victor and honestly he doesn’t want to know)

After a few weeks of this “secret dating”, you’re so deprived of Victor that you’re less energetic

He notices this, obviously, and actually feels bad about it

Decides to bring some pudding along with him

He drives up to your company to pick you up, but notices you talking with someone (he lowers the window slightly to hear)

Doesn’t think much of it until he hears the guy asking for your number

And you willingly give it to him? 

“This idiot....!”

Victor gets out of his car and walks up to the two of you, hand on your back, and escorts you to the passenger seat (shoots a quick nod back at the guy)

You notice the small bag under your seat and open it, surprised by the small containers filled to the rim with pudding (you waste no time in opening one)

Unbelievable, do I have to ask her myself?

“I never realized you were this careless, MC” (you look up from your pudding)

“What do you mean?”

“Giving your number to a stranger like that? I knew you were a dummy, but to this extent?” (his eyes are fixed on yours as the light turns red)

“Well, he’s going to need his boss’ number, isn’t he? And plus if anything goes wrong with the projects, I’ll need to know” 

“....boss?” (Victor nearly misses the turn)

“Yeah, remember Minor? The newly hired one? I thought I told you already...” (your words drown out in his head as he pieces everything together)

“Wait, Victor...are you being jealous right now?” (he doesn’t like that your eyes are lighting up of all times for her to be observant)

He stops at another red light and leans over to lick the pudding off on your cheek (this guy!)

“So what if I am?”

Kiro

You had asked him if he could come for a segment on your show (modeling for some products)

You ask, he answers

Poor Savin has to clean up the mess after Kiro cancelled his ENTIRE schedule

“Miss Chips NEEDS me!” (if you weren’t Kiro’s girlfriend, Savin would’ve destroyed you)

In between shots he always appears at your side with snacks

“You need to be energized, MC!” (actually just needs an accomplice against Savin)

You’re amazed at the 180 difference of this sunshine when he’s with you vs. when he’s filming (he knows you’re amazed)

One of the cameramen calls you over to discuss the recent shots

The two of you discuss how to bring out the best in Kiro (he was fantastic as is, but there was a spark that just lacked)

He notices you slowly inching towards the cameraman, hands on the back of his chair (sunshine boy is pouty; why can’t you notice that your coworker clearly has interest in you?)

You ponder over how this shoot can be better, unaware that Kiro was staring at your every move

“Maybe someone else can be in the shot with him?” (you suggest, looking up to meet his radiating eyes)

“Great idea! MC, you do it!” (he gets up to grab your hand, and leads you to the front of the studio)

“No...I possibly can’t...”

Your arguments are useless as Kiro calls his team over to help you get prepared

3. HOURS. OF PREPARATIONS.

But you step out, beautifully dressed, catching the eyes of everyone in the room, including the very cameraman (this is NOT what Kiro wanted!)

He quickly pulls you towards him, “Trust me, MC” (stops to look at the cameraman before focusing on you)

He stages these elaborate poses to capture your best angles (Kiro, have you forgotten who this shoot is for?)

He sees that the cameraman is at a loss for words at your beauty (can’t blame him, but still)

For the last shot Kiro leans down and softly blows into your ear, causing you to profusely blush

He looks at the cameraman one last time before leaning down again to whisper

“Don’t be so cute in front of other guys, you’re making me jealous”

Lucien

He’s used to having students come up to him and flirting with him

Of course, it doesn’t faze him at all (but he does enjoy seeing your reactions when he flirts back)

Never thought the tides would turn against him

He sees another student walking up to you during lecture

“Is this seat taken?”

“No, go ahead!”

Lucien’s gaze lands on the student, his face flushed while pulling out the chair to sit next to you (......interesting, of all the seats?)

He looks around the room to find the tens of empty seats in the hall (you were oblivious to his advances that’s my girl)

He resumes the lecture with this in mind, his eyes occasionally darting to you

Obviously the student had no interests in the lesson, but just towards you

But you offer to lend your textbook to him, since he didn’t bring it (learning wasn’t his intentions, after all)

He leans closer to you as you push your hair behind your ears

Nothings gets past Lucien’s eyes (It’s the boyfriend radar in him)

“Mr. Smith, can you please explain the effects of rejection on the brain and its relations to physical pain?” (his lips curl to form a smile his eyes definitely weren’t smiling)

The student immediately understood the context, and scoots away from you in embarrassment “I...I don’t know, professor”

You glance back and forth between the student and Lucien, the latter having a look of satisfaction before continuing the lecture

“Jealousy is an unpredictable emotion. It can cause a person to become irrational and............dangerous”

The clock hits 5 PM, and the student darts out of the room as quickly as he came in

“Well, I suppose that’s the end of today’s lecture. Have a safe trip home, class”

You pack your stuff to leave when he calls your name

“Ah, Miss MC? Please stay for a bit. I need to talk to you about......preventing misunderstandings”

He locks the door

You don’t get out until 7

Gavin

Your frequent visits to the STF headquarters make yourself famous within the other evol agents

Everyone eyes the two of you as you drop off his lunch

You actually enjoy this situation very much (make his lunches EXTRA cute on purpose He blushes everytime he opens the box)

He is called in by one of the mission leaders to discuss their next plans

He squeezes your hand before heading over to a conference room

You stare at his deliciously chiseled back, unaware that Eli has appeared behind you

Ever since your first meeting with Eli, the two of you have grown considerably close (all you talk about is Gavin, after all)

He often updates you about Birdcop: what he's doing on missions, if he's well, if he got hurt (actually undermines any injuries he sustained during battle)

Eli knows how scary you can get

In return, you tell him about Gavin's cute moments

Like when he got drunk a few nights back and got jealous because you took a selfie with Sparky AND NOT WITH HIM (Eli adds this to his "How to Make Fun of B-7" list)

"I love him more than you do, MC"

"No Eli, he's MY boyfriend!"

The two of you, in your own world, laugh away as the argument over who gets custody of Gavin heats up

Meanwhile, Gavin notices the two of you through the one-way mirror in the conference room

You're laughing? Laughing the dorky, adorable giggle you only showed me? To Eli?

He's unable to focus for the rest of the meeting

He wants to storm out of the room and separate the two of you, but he knows his limits (he doesn't want you to see him acting so unprofessionally)

As soon as the meeting is adjourned Birdcop literally FLIES out the door and hides you behind his back

You're slightly annoyed because your "Things Gavin Says in His Sleep" discussion with Eli was interrupted

Then you realize the small barrier of wind blocking Eli from coming close

“Gavin...are you jealous?”

That was the first time Eli saw Agent B-7 flushed from head to toes (he secretly took a picture, and later showed it to the other agents)

We all love a good fluff

Whose imagine did you enjoy the most? For this post, I honestly can’t choose XD

[spideyanakin]

Hi!! Just saw the post of your blurb event and i want to participate. Can i ask for a mixed ( of angst and fluff) Paris blurb with the prompt " Listen, i can't explain it. You'll have to trust me" ? Thank you!

Send me a blurb request

🌸Masterlist 🌸

~~Not What it Looks like🙈~~

"What is this?" Paris arrived in the smith’s room not expecting to find you here, standing so close to him. "Y/n?" You turned around like a cat who had been caught trying to break something.

As he said your name you quickly took everything that you were creating with the help of the man, packing up all the bronze designs that could be seen by him. You took everything tight in your arms and placed it in a basket on the other side of the room, sighing in content when he didn’t see a thing.

"Yes love?" You questioned slightly approaching him but he seemed to flinch away.

"Come talk outside." He eyed the smith with angry eyes who looked at him with confused ones before slipping out the room with you.

"What’s going on there?" He pointed anger bubbling in his tummy like hot oil. "Are you having an affair- if you are tell me, wouldn’t be no first time a prince as his wife taken." He deadpanned and folded his arms as he did everything to look away, not even baring to imagine what you’d look like in another man’s arms.

"Listen, I can’t explain it." You chuckled as he got the wrong idea. "You’ll have to trust me" you placed a hand on his shoulder. "I’m not cheating on you" you chuckled again this time making Paris a little angry in the process.

"This isn’t funny Y/n- you have no other reason to be in the Smith’s room, so don’t try to giggle your way out of it." He pointed out with anger in his tone making you flinch.

"Paris-" you placed a hand over his shoulder but he took a step back, bumping against a pillar as he did.

"Don’t!" He pointed out.

"Paris please" but all he seemed to do was push you away in anger.

"Alright you big baby." You sighed as he just got more mad at you. "I was making a sword." You told your truth, Paris still not understanding the situation.

"A sword?" He questioned, not beleiving your words. "You don’t fight?"

"I don’t fight but you do." You pointed to the old sword that rested on his hip.

With a smile you quickly entered the room and got the basket where you had dumped your work in.

"It’s soon our anniversary, thought I’d make a sword for you." You shurgged as you got the small pieces you’d been working on and placed it in his hand, this time being able to approache your husband without him walking away.

"So you’re not cheating on me?" He whispered almost in disbelief as releaf hit him.

"No!" You chuckled wrapping your arms around him to kiss his cheek. "Never have, and never will. "

"Good." He smiled dropping everything you handed him to wrap his arms around and hold you closer. "And I’m excited to see that sword."

—————

@averyfosterthoughts @slytherinambitious @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes @criminaly-supernatural @carolxnaaa @ksmy-99​ @yerevasunclair @streets-in-paradise @entishramblings

[wwoodaengie]

Iris (Erwin Smith x fem!Reader)

SoulmateAU, where when you look at your soulmates eyes you remember how you found and lost each other in you past lives. 

-- tw: mentions of blood. --

Year 2018. 

Beep! Beep! Beep!

"Move it!!! Fucking traffic!" you said as you slammed your hands on your car horn.

You grabbed your coffee and took a sip, you closed your eyes when you felt the cold strong liquid pass your throat, you took a deep breath and looked at the time, 7:45 am. 

You uttered a silent course and closed your eyes. 

How lucky are you being late on the first day of work? 

Very. Lucky. 

You thought to yourself.

You were sprinting when you arrived at your building, it is 8:56am and your work starts at 9 am. You arrived and saw that the briefing for the new employees already started.

The day went fast, you found yourself walking through the parking lot of your building when your phone started to ring you tried to search for it with your hands but failed so you looked for it, as you scanned your phone inside your bag--

bump!

You accidentally bumped on someone causing you to fall your butt hitting the dirty floor. 

"I'm sorry." A deep voice said then you saw a palm in front of you, you immediately took it and helped you stand up. 

"It’s okay.”

You said and wiped the invisible dirt on your skirt. You looked up and smiled at the man in front of you.

And the moment your eyes met both of your eyebrows creased as if you have seen each other before. 

-

Year 1918 

“Erwin! How are you?” the blonde man smiled and shocked his head to acknowledge the man who caught his attention. 

“I am well and you?” he asked.

“Oh i’m good, i’m good. Come inside and have coffee, its on the house.” the man said as he gestured to Erwin to enter the store.

 He was welcomed with the smell of pastries and coffee. “Is this yours?” he asked his friend. 

“Oh it's my wife’s but I help her with baking the pastries and buying ingredients.” he explained as he grabbed a coffee and gave it to him. 

“Bagel? Croissant? Chocolate Cake?” his friend asked while putting the apron on his waist. 

“Just a croissant, thank you” Erwin said and sipped on his coffee. 

“Are you retired or just on vacation?” his friend asked. “Vacation.” he said. 

“Oh you’re such a man of service. Have you got a family? I haven’t seen you for 5 years but you never aged a bit.” his friend said. Erwin chuckled and shaked his head. 

“I haven’t had a proper date nor an interest in women, as of the moment.” Erwin said which earned him a nod and a smirk from his friend. 

“How long would you be staying? Do you want me to set you up.” His friend asked.

What has his friend become? Why is he so nosy? Is this the effect of being a married man? He thought.

“3 months and no, please. I don’t want a relationship right now.” he explained. 

“If you say so.” his friend shrugged. 

They’ve talked for hours until his friend decided to make him leave and let him rest. 

Erwin laid on his bed thinking about his friends' offer a while ago. 

He's getting old and soon enough he will retire in the military, it would be nice to have someone to spend his remaining days with, he thought. 

But his life isn’t guaranteed. 

He is a soldier and death is always just around a corner, he wouldn’t want someone waiting for him to come back only to be given an apology by one of his comrades and announce that he died. 

He hated seeing family members cry when they announce to them that their loved one has died in an encounter, he never gets used to it. 

He was fine with being alone until he met you. 

“Mr. Dok, please I can really help with the chores here, I can serve coffee as well. Please” Erwin looked at the pleading lady and raised his eyebrows. 

You felt that someone was staring and looked at the man to your left. You chuckled at the way he immediately took his gaze away from you. 

“Why do you need a job, y/n? You came from a wealthy family, I don’t think you need a job.” Mr. Dok said while he wipes the tables.

Well, you really did come from a wealthy family. Being the only daughter of a painter and a doctor, you are pretty privilege. But you are sick and tired of staying at home and staying pretty. You have grown to love your servants at home, you spent your mornings learning how to bake pastries and cook, your evenings washing dishes and mopping the floor. You loved helping others and now, you felt like you’re ready to be a woman of service. 

You’ve been imagining those things ever since you were young. 

So here you are, begging for Mr. Dok to give you a job at his wife’s coffee shop.

“Okay, Mr. Dok. How about this? Hmm, say you don’t have to pay me for the first month!” you bargained. 

Mr. Dok looked at you, his eyes looked at you like you’re some kind of a crazy lady. Well maybe you are, who in the right mind works for free?! 

“Are you sure?” Mr. Dok asked. You nodded excitedly and felt victory when Mr. Dok sighed and said “Fine.” You squealed and happily jumped. 

At that moment, Erwin Smith just found himself spending the day at his friend’s Coffee Shop. 

Maybe he fancied you, he doesn’t really know. But he just loved seeing you do your tasks, you looked so happy and passionate about it. He even caught himself smiling while doing your job. 

“You like her?” 

One day, while Erwin was having his afternoon snack. His friend asked him that question. 

Erwin finds it absurd. Why would Nile ask that? How does Nile know if he likes someone? 

He ignored the question but he was immediately alarmed at the action Nile did. 

“Y/n!! Come here” Mr. Dok called your attention, you went to him and noticed the blonde man sitting in front of him. 

“This is Erwin Smith, Erwin this is f/n l/n.” Mr. Dok said. 

 You both smiled at each other. 

“I have to go.” the blonde man stood up. 

Your eyes widened when you noticed how tall the blonde man is. 

“It was nice meeting you Miss l/n” Mr. Smith said and shocked his head. 

“Please, call me f/n” you said and smiled. 

“Very well then, f/n. See you around.” he said and walked away. 

You didn’t expect anything when the both of you were introduced. 

But, Mr. Dok had his way, that one day you just found yourself having a fancy dinner with Erwin. It was safe to say that both of you had a great time, because it happened again and again.

Now here you are 2 years later, announcing to Mr. Dok that you will get married to Erwin once he comes back from the military. 

Everything happened so fast, you remembered how he asked you to wait for him when he left for the military 2 years ago and he went back, left again, went back, and left again. You were scared, of course. With the amount of deaths you hear from time to time. But you trusted him, he said he will come back and he always does. 

And it is so unfair,

To feel the pain of the bullet that hit his chest, to feel the blood rush out of his wound. Erwin’s breath ragged. He closed his eyes. 

I have to survive, I have to come back. She's waiting for me. He thought to himself as he remembered all the times he woke up beside you, smiling and giving him kisses, when the I love you’s left both of your mouth, the moment you said yes when he asked you to marry him. 

It is unfair. 

You felt weak, you’ve been vomiting for a long time now and you were in pain, you closed your eyes and let the tears roll down your eyes. 

Just hold on, hold on, wait for him. 

You were sick, really sick. Your whole family thought that it was just a simple flu, you did too. 

But it got worse. 

And right now all you could feel was 

Pain and sorrow. 

He was gonna die, he felt it. 

You are weak, and you know you wouldn’t survive, your ears bled, your turning, and your vomits some with blood.

“I’m sorry.”

Both of them whispered, as they closed their tear stained-eyes and breathed their last breath. 

--

The familiarity of the blue orb in front of you felt like home.

You felt like you’ve missed him you whole life.

You stared at him, not saying anything and he did the same. 

You were surprised when you felt a tear escape your eyes. 

Erwin felt like home, those eyes were something he has seen before, but the woman in front of him was someone he had never seen before. 

So why does he feel like this? He wanted to wrap his arms around her, its weird but he knows its gonna be warm, safe, and full of love.

He was shocked when a tear escaped her eyes. 

He wanted to say something. But he can’t, it's like all fell at once. 

He started to tear up as well. 

And when they spoke, it felt surreal as if time and fate is finally on their side. 

“It’s you.”  

-- 

a/n: this is my first scenario, ever. I finally had the courage to post and write this sad scenario in my head. It was inspired by one of my favorite songs. (although, it is in filipino) but her it is. 

i’m sorry if i didn’t give it any justice. i’ll improve, i promise. ;>

[kellanswritingblog]

After Zolf tugged Wilde's face down right next to his in plain view of the Vengeance's crew, Cel has decided it's time for the two of them to stop with this will-they-won't-they nonsense and finally kiss.  And if that means locking the two people who can still pilot the airship in a box until they sort themselves out, so be it.

You can read the whole thing below, but I’ll also add the AO3 link in a reblog

Once his meeting with Earhart concluded, Zolf retook the helm, relieving Wilde of his impromptu post, and it wasn’t long before Cel sidled up to him.  They didn’t say anything at first, simply standing next to him, before he sighed.

“What’s going on, Cel?”

“Well, Mr. Smith, that is an excellent question.”

“Do you know how to get people back into their own bodies?”

Cel paused.  “That is another excellent question, but, uh… no.  We still have no idea.  But!  That’s not what I’m here about.”

“Okay?  What are you here about, then?”  Zolf asked, looking away from the empty sky in front of them to give Cel a curious glance.

Clasping their hands together, Cel composed themselves, then said, “So… all those times I asked if you and Wilde were together, and you told me that you weren’t… that was just some elaborate scheme, right?  Proof that you actually do have a sense of humor underneath all that grumpiness?”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Zolf snapped, harsher than intended.  “Wilde and I are coworkers, colleagues, that’s it.”

“And you pulling on his collar until his face was right up next to yours and making that little comment about him cheering up was… a performance revue?”

Zolf shrugged.  “We’ve always picked on each other.  It’s just… less antagonistic than it used to be.  But I like to keep him on his toes, mess with him, make him a bit flustered; and, honestly, it is nice to see him cheered up.  He’s been… well, we’ve all been having a time of it.”

“Uh huh…”

“Listen, you don’t have to believe me.  We’re friends.  I care about him, but… the mission is more important.  We don’t have time for romance or things like that.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Smith,” Cel replied, “we all could’ve died in that magic storm, and there’s no telling what we’ll find when we land.  I would say that actually there’s no time like the present.”

Despite his continued insistence that he and Wilde remain platonic colleagues, Zolf let out a heavy breath, then focused on steering the Vengeance.  “And with all due respect to you, Cel, I think our priority should be on getting everybody back into their right bodies, not playing matchmaker.”

“Now, here’s the thing: I am an expert multitasker.”

*

Enjoying the shenanigans and chaos caused by the rest of the crew being body-swapped, Wilde watched as Hamid and Azu attempted to corral their companions, intervening occasionally, but mostly just taking in the show.  Cel extracted themselves from the mayhem to step over to him and lean against the wall beside him.

“So.  Zolf, huh?”

“What about him?”

Cel shook their head.  “Okay, that’s not quite right.  More like, you and Zolf, huh?”

“What are you talking about?”  He raised an eyebrow and spoke flatly.

“He keeps telling me that you two aren’t a thing and yet, and yet, every time I see you interact there is so much evidence to the contrary.  You make marriage jokes!  He practically kisses you in the middle of the deck!”

Wilde shook his hand as if to bat the speculation away.  “Oh, please.  I make jokes with everyone.”

“Yeah but not like you do with him.”

“Do you have a point?”

“That you two need to stop this weird pining, denial thing, and get together already!”  Cel cried.  “Your blush when he tugged you down to his height?  I have seen some explosions in my day, and your blush was brighter than all of them combined.”

Instead of replying, Wilde moved a hand to his cheek and brushed it absentmindedly, as if silently reprimanding it for giving away any indication of his feelings.

“I’m just saying,” Cel continued, quieter now, “that you two obviously care about each other.  And not just in a work-friend type way.  If the world is ending, you’ve only got so long to make things happen, to finally fess up.  That way, if we save everybody, you have a loving boyfriend waiting for you on the other side to enjoy the new peace; if we don’t, well, at least you don’t have any regrets about that.”

Wilde paused for a moment, and then sighed.  “I already have plenty of regrets.  A few more won’t hurt.”

*

“Zolf, come quick!”

Instantly, he threw himself out of his bunk to follow Cel, not even taking the time to carefully set aside the Harrison Campbell novel he’d been reading.

Together, they raced to the room once used as a magical Faraday cage, where Cel came to a halt in front of a very confused Wilde.

“Wait, what’s going on?  Who’s steering the ship?”  Zolf cried.  He started to run to the door, but Cel was before him in a flash, pulling it shut behind them so that Zolf and Wilde were trapped together.  “Cel, open the door.  One of us needs to be at the helm.  I thought Wilde was up there!  I was on break!”

“I was up there,” Wilde replied.  His arms were crossed and his foot tapped angrily.  “Then Cel told me you would relieve me, and that they needed my help immediately.”

“Earhart can handle things for a few minutes,” Cel said, peeking through the bars.  “Even as a kobold, she still knows what she’s doing.”

“Okay, great.  What are we doing in here?”

“Talking.  Sorting out your nonsense,” Cel explained.  Zolf and Wilde glanced at each other briefly, then looked back to Cel when they continued, “Imagine there were no time constraints, no world-ending catastrophe going on.  I don’t care if you actively decide to have only a platonic relationship, that’s fine, but this tension wobbling between friends and romance – everybody sees it!  Hamid is chanting “kiss kiss kiss” behind your backs because it’s that obvious.  So, I’m not letting you out until you talk about your feelings for each other and decide where you stand.”

“Listen, Cel, that’s all well and good, but the ship…”  Zolf exclaimed.

“Talk it over, or I’ll release Kobold Carter, and then no one will be safe,” Cel threatened, then smiled and headed on their way.  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.  Have fun!”

Their footsteps receded down the hall, and eventually Zolf and Wilde spun to face each other.

“Did they talk you into this?”  Wilde asked.

“Into what?  Locking the two people who can pilot this damn airship into a room while everybody else is running around in different bodies? No, oddly enough, this wasn’t my plan.”

Wilde let out a single, breathy chuckle.  “It is pretty funny though, in a way.”

“How is this funny!?”  Zolf yelled, and then Wilde couldn’t help but grin.  “What are you laughing at?  This is a disaster!”

Despite his panic and concern for all of their safety, Zolf couldn’t stay angry for too long as Wilde began to laugh, a proper laugh that hadn’t seen enough use recently.  Between Zolf shouting and stomping his foot, and getting tricked into an impromptu jail, Wilde couldn’t keep it all together, and the giggles came pouring out.

Zolf chuckled as well, beaming at Wilde.   “You know…”  Zolf remarked quietly once their laughter subsided.  “It really is nice to see you cheered up.”

“It feels good,” Wilde replied.  “Obviously not everything is fixed or better, but…”

He took a seat on one of the benches while Zolf still stood at the door.  Zolf knew he didn’t have the skill to open it, with a myriad of technological and magical locks keeping it shut, but that didn’t stop his stubbornness from looking it over anyway.

“You know, Cel isn’t going to let us out until we talk about our ‘feelings,’” Wilde said.  He patted a space on the bench beside him.

With a heavy sigh, Zolf slumped over and sat down.  “I don’t know what there is to talk about.”

“Me neither.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, each wringing their hands and opening their mouths to speak on multiple occasions, only to fall quiet once again.

Finally, Zolf was the first to give out.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Hm?”  Wilde turned his head toward him.  “I mean, yes, of course, but what did I do this time?”

“Just… all of you!”  Zolf cried, still staring into the emptiness of the cell.  “You have always been an ass but… you’re a good man.  You’re clever and witty and smart and absolutely infuriating in every way.”

“A ringing endorsement,” Wilde joked, and Zolf spun to face him.

“This is what I mean!  I’m actually going to do the whole emotions thing, and you’re making quips!”

“Would you like me to stop until you’ve finished?”  Wilde offered.   His smirk was replaced by a sincerity that shone in his eyes.

Zolf breathed, “No.  No, not at all.”  With another heavy sigh, Zolf’s body relaxed, and he settled back into his seat, head against the wall as he stared at the ceiling.  “Obviously, the world sucks.  But… working with you, getting to know you as more than some pompous jerk… I wouldn’t trade any of that.”

Wilde’s eyes darted over Zolf, and he smiled.  “Me neither.”  Slowly, cautiously, he reached out his hand to set it gently over Zolf’s.

With a jolt, Zolf instinctively started to pull away, as he hadn’t expected the contact, then he flipped his hand over so that they could hold onto each other.  It was still a long while before they looked at each other, focusing only on how their fingers fit together, until their eyes eventually met.

“This is a terrible idea given the state of things,” Wilde said matter-of-factly.

“It is.  There’s no place for this when the world is falling apart.”

Even if their words were true, their hearts had different plans.

“Can I kiss you?”  Zolf asked, and Wilde smirked again.

“I’ve only been hoping you would for about a year.”

Zolf chuckled, then leaned in to kiss Oscar, tugging on his collar more gently than he had before in the middle of the deck.  Their first kiss was slow and careful, their minds trying to process all of their feelings before they gave up thinking about timing and consequences, and instead thought only of the sensation of the other’s lips on their own.

“Absolutely insufferable,” Zolf murmured, his lips brushing against Oscar’s as he spoke, and they both smiled wide before kissing again.

“As if you’re one to talk,” he replied several kisses later.  “I may be insufferable, but you’re more stubborn than anyone else I’ve ever met.”  He gave Zolf a quick kiss.  “It’s wonderful.  Infuriating, but also wonderful.”

With half a chuckle and half a sigh, Zolf shook his head.  “This is great, and, though I will never admit it to them, I am glad Cel put this trap together, but we really do need to get out of here before the ship crashes.”

“Good point.  We can continue this later.”

Zolf started toward the door, then turned back and kissed Wilde again, cradling his face as Oscar’s hands laced around his waist and pulled him in tight, ignoring the risk for a few more blissful moments.

“Definitely.”

Then, Zolf extracted himself from Oscar’s grip, where he could have stayed forever, to bang against the door.

“Alright, Cel, we’ve done the emotional nonsense, can you let us out now so we don’t all fall out of the sky?”

Footsteps trotted closer and Cel peeked in through the gap.

“You two sorted yourself out?”

“Right as rain,” Wilde said, moving to take his place beside Zolf.

When Cel glanced at them skeptically, Wilde put a hand on Zolf’s shoulder, and their eyes widened.

“Aww, I knew you two could make it work!”

“This is all well and good, but please, Cel.  The ship?”

“Oh, yeah, good point.”

They unlocked the door and Zolf burst past them to race up the stairs and relieve whoever had taken over steering the Vengeance while he and Wilde were otherwise indisposed.

“So, it worked?”  Cel asked Wilde as they made their way above decks at a much more relaxed pace.  When Wilde nodded and smiled to himself, Cel grinned.  “That was a good idea you had.  Maybe I should lock people in boxes more often when I need to have an important conversation.”

“It’s a very useful method,” Wilde replied.  “I’m just glad he wasn’t so stubborn that Kobold Carter had to be released.”

“About that… he got out.  We don’t know where he is.”

“What!?”

[shireness-says]

A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink (1/4)

Summary: Two people are trained from childhood for a magical competition they don't fully understand, whose stakes are higher than they imagine, all to be played out in a magical traveling circus. Falling in love complicates things. A CS AU of the book “The Night Circus”.

Rated M. ~15.2K. Also on AO3.

A/N: Presenting my contribution to the @cssns​! “The Night Circus” by Erin Morgenstern is a favorite book of mine that I have long thought would make for an excellent CS AU. And so, I’m finally doing it. At length. 

I was incredibly lucky to be paired with @eirabach​ for this event, who created the beautiful art attached above. She has such amazing ideas for bringing this fic to life in all its atmospheric glory that I never would have thought of. Her art is also posted on her tumblr; go give it all the love it deserves!

Thanks also go to @snidgetsafan​, my ever-phenomenal beta, and @ohmightydevviepuu​, who read the book at my urging and then agreed to read my monster to make sure nothing important was left out. This fic is better for both their efforts. 

Tagging the usual suspects for now. If you want to be added to (or removed from!) this list, just shoot me a message: @welllpthisishappening​, @profdanglaisstuff​, @thisonesatellite​, @let-it-raines​, @kmomof4​, @scientificapricot​, @thejollyroger-writer​, @superchocovian​, @teamhook​, @optomisticgirl​, @winterbaby89​, @searchingwardrobes​, @katie-dub​, @snowbellewells​

Enjoy - and let me know what you think! Next chapter will be posted whenever I get it done. 

~~~~~

The circus arrives at night.

There is never any warning of its arrival; no handbills stuck to the lampposts or announcement from some other lucky town that yours will be next. It is simply there one morning, all the black and white tents taking on a particularly mystical quality in the light of the sunrise. At the front gate is a sign:

                       Le Cirque des Rêves

                   Open sunset until sunrise

(And what a curious idea, that; a circus that is only open at night.)

The circus is a place where anything can happen, and routinely does. Those who visit leave with an awareness that no street-side carnival or traveling minstrel will ever induce such enjoyment again; everything must naturally pale in comparison. The illusionist is somehow more magical, the fortune-teller more wise, the contortionists and acrobats more daring. The world of the circus, created all in black and white and silver and lit by delicate lanterns and a great bonfire at its center, feels otherworldly - and you somehow feel that it just might be. 

In a word, the circus is magic, brought to life right in front of your eyes, and you know you will never be the same for having witnessed it. 

Our story does not begin at the circus, however; it only ends there.

———

Our story begins in the back corner of a smoky tavern, or a grimy alley, or a dimly lit dressing room of a theater, or any number of other places that exist in-between the rest of humanity, overlooked, utterly invisible in their mundanity.

(In truth, it does not matter where our story begins - only that it does.)

A woman sits in a darkened corner. More attentive observers might recognize her as the famed stage magician, Circe the Enchantress, capable of tricks beyond their wildest imagination.

(Even the most observant wouldn’t realize that all of Circe’s “tricks” are gloriously real; the human mind is excellent at not seeing things that it doesn’t want to acknowledge.)

(The most observant won’t notice the way she purposefully draws the shadows further around herself, either, just to ensure that the rest of humanity around her can’t penetrate the curtain of dark.)

Circe isn’t her real name, of course; it just sounds good on a playbill, capable of attracting people from far and wide. These days, she goes by Regina Mills, though there’s been other names before that: Corwin and King and Bowen and Smith. Names aren’t much of a concern for those as old as she, just another passing distraction when you’ve witnessed hundreds of years.

Hundreds of years don’t make the waiting any easier when the person you’re expecting can’t bother to arrive on time.

“You’re late,” she comments drily when her companion finally arrives, a slight man with a slighter limp. They may as well be a study in opposites; where Regina plays with shadow to avoid notice, he’s draped himself in a spell that causes an observer’s eyes to glance away without seeing; while Regina tries on names like hats over the decades and centuries, changing with every whim, her companion has allowed his own moniker to become lost to time, known only now to very few and only as Mr. Gold. 

“Au contraire, dearie,” he replies mildly, though the irritated glint in his eye would terrify anyone else. “I arrived exactly when I needed to. What is time to those like us, anyhow?”

“A convenient construct that keeps those you have appointments with from waiting around for any longer than they have to.” 

Mr. Gold studiously ignores the quip.  “Why did you ask me here tonight, Regina?” 

“I’m in the mood for a game,” she says, faux-casually. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a proper competition.”

“Ah yes,” her companion smirks. “If I remember right, my contestant defeated yours last time.”

“On a technicality,” Regina corrects through gritted teeth.

“In this world of absolutes, I often find a technicality is all it takes to shift the balance. And magic, true power… that’s the greatest technicality of them all.”

“I’m rather less inclined to deal in technicalities, at least where the matter of starting a new game is involved,” Regina snaps. Any minute shred of patience or humor she might have possessed is long since gone, even if her companion remains unruffled. “It really boils down to: do you want to, or not?”

“Never let it be said I turn down a challenge, dearie.” This time, it’s impossible to miss the menace behind the supposed endearment. “In fact, I’d say you were the one being… shall we say, vague about the details of this all. Do you have a venue in mind? Or are you leaving that particular bit up to me?”

Regina waves a dismissive hand. “Do as you will. You know I’m not much interested in that, anyways.”

“You never did understand the importance of setting.”

“Perhaps I simply have faith that my contestant will prevail regardless.”

That piques Gold’s interest. “You already have a candidate in mind, then?”

“And fully anticipate taking them as a student, yes. I suppose you’ll want to be there to bind them to the competition?”

“You know me well.”

“I should bloody well hope so,” Regina mutters under her breath. They both know, however, that Mr. Gold hears the words regardless. 

Carefully, the man in question stands from the table, supporting himself on a gilt-ended cane. Any limp that might necessitate such an accessory has long since been corrected; some things are more about the effect, anyways. “If there’s nothing else, Regina, I have other matters to attend to.”

“I expect you do,” Regina smirks. “After all, I’ve already spotted my player, and you’ve yet to find yours.”

“That is true,” Gold concedes with a deceptive mildness. “But remember, dearie: it isn’t about how the game starts, or when, or where. It’s about where it ends. And I have full confidence my acolyte will be able to last the distance.”

With their business concluded, both magicians fade back into the night. Pedestrians continue along the streets, occasionally interrupted by a horse and carriage, all unaware of the true nature of the beings weaving through their midst.

(Dozens of lives have been altered with this ten minute conversation, but the world at large will never know that either.)

———

Emma Swan spends a lot of time by herself.

That’s to be expected, in some ways; she’s an orphan, after all, having spent all 6 years of her life bouncing between begging in the children’s homes and begging on the streets, desperate for the help of others and receiving very little of it. 

But Emma is different, in a way that scares others and has left her to bounce around for years. Emma can do things that others can’t do, like the sparks that dance between her fingers and all the little things that sometimes move, falling off shelves and tables and everything else, whenever she’s upset. She can’t control it, not really, and in a life like hers, there are far too many opportunities to be upset. 

A lady had seen her the other day - one of the fancy ladies by the theaters, the kind that usually pretend they don’t see Emma, like her very existence might dirty their skirts. Emma hadn’t meant to - she never means for these things to happen. But the days are getting colder, and when she really starts to shiver, even with her arms curled around herself to conserve heat, sometimes the little sparks just happen. It’s like whatever this thing is is just trying to keep her warm too.

And no one should have seen her, tucked away in that corner, but the lady is already looking around with a frown on her face like she’s searching for something, and when she turns Emma’s way, it just happens. The lady’s eyes focus on Emma, drawn by those little shoots of light, even as she shoves her hands into her armpits. Emma expects gasping, or screaming, or maybe even a panicked shout for the police - it wouldn’t be the first time - but instead, the lady just tilts her head and narrows her eyes, as if she’s seen something interesting. Then she nods abruptly and leaves.

Emma doesn’t expect to see the lady again - indeed, she rather thinks she’s dodged a bullet. But a week later, she rounds the corner with a filched apple and runs straight into the lady.

“Sorry, Ma’am,” Emma mumbles, ducking her head and trying to scoot around the older woman. When the lady darts out an elegant hand to grab Emma’s arm and hold her in place, panic courses through her veins. “Please, Ma’am, I didn’t do nothing, I swear —”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” the lady snaps, tugging Emma into the mouth of an unnaturally quiet alley. “I don’t care about whatever you ‘didn’t do’. I want to talk about what you did the other day.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Emma mumbles, staring studiously at her feet.

“Of course you do - the lights, in your hands. Don’t lie to me. That’s a gift, don’t you know that?”

Emma shakes her head no.

“Your gift - it can do wonderful things. It makes you special.”

“I’m not special.”

The lady considers that for a moment before answering. “No. But you could be. I could teach you.”

Now that catches Emma’s attention. “You can? How?”

“I can do things like that too,” the lady explains with a smile that seems more smug than pleased. Sure enough, when the lady turns her hand upright, a small ball of flame burns there. Emma’s eyes practically bulge out of her head as she watches that little lick of fire - like her own, in so many ways.

“If you come with me, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” the lady says. It sounds like an order, not an offer; Emma knows how to recognize those. Still, maybe…

“Like a mother?” she asks hopefully, even if she knows that’s unlikely.

The lady scrunches her nose in a kind of instinctual disgust. It’s about as much as Emma expected. “Heavens, no. Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolds. “No, more like… you’d be my apprentice, and I’d teach you our trade.”

That seems odd to Emma; this lady, with her fancy dress and her fancy hat and her posh accent, doesn’t seem like the type who should have to work. “What’s your work?”

For the first time this whole conversation, the lady bends down to properly meet Emma’s eyes. Emma straightens a bit at the gesture, already able to tell she’s about to impart something important. “Magic,” the woman tells her with a smug, adult kind of smile.

“Magic isn’t real,” Emma says back, almost automatically. Six years in orphanages and left to her own devices have long since proved there are no fairy godmothers in this world, not for little girls like her. 

The woman straightens. “The bits of it you have dancing around your fingers right now say otherwise.”

Emma looks down in horror to see it again - the sparks that she tries so hard to hide, that give her so much trouble. For all the mad things this lady says, she’s the first to not look at the display in alarm or even fear. 

“You can make it go away?”

“I can teach you to control it,” the lady corrects, “and so much more. I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime, Emma. Don’t be such a fool as to reject that.”

And even at six, Emma is not a fool.

Emma goes with the lady, who she learns is called Regina. She never learns how Regina knew her name, but writes it off as magic.

(There are far worse fates for lost girls like her.)

———

Emma has been with Regina for a week when the strange man shows up backstage at the theater where Regina is performing.

One week isn’t a lot of time in the grand scheme of an apprenticeship, but her teacher is guiding Emma to recognize magic in the world - the way it pulls toward Emma like an odd kind of magnet and traces linger in the air for hours. Emma has learned to see the faint, radiating glow of magic around her own mentor; this man doesn’t quite have the same glow, but there’s a hum that emanates from him that she thinks might be the same thing. 

Regina introduces the man as a friend, but Emma doesn’t think that’s quite right. She’s always had a knack for recognizing lies - maybe that’s a kind of magic, she wonders now - and her benefactor isn’t quite telling the truth. Maybe that’s one of the half-lies that adults tell, when they think the truth is too difficult for a child to comprehend.

Regardless of what the man might be - friend, foe, acquaintance, something else altogether - Emma can’t help but feel uncomfortable under his piercing gaze. The sparks burst and dance around her fingertips again, entirely without her say-so - something the man quickly notices.

“You’ve found a natural talent, then?” The words are addressed at Regina, but his eyes never leave Emma.

“I told you I had someone in mind,” Regina bites back, just barely on the right side of civility. “Now, if you don’t mind, I don’t have all day.”

“Patience was never your strong suit, was it, Regina?” The man’s tone is mild, but his eyes flash with displeasure. Still, he crouches in front of Emma, granting her his full attention. Though he carries a cane, the movement doesn’t appear to pain him in the way she expects. “What do they call you, young miss?”

She doesn’t particularly want to answer, but Regina has a particular look in her eye that says that she doesn’t really have a choice. “Emma,” she finally mumbles, avoiding the man’s eyes.

“Emma,” he parrots back. “What a lovely name. May I see your hand, Emma?”

Silently, she offers it, palm facing up. Once she does so, the man slips a plain gold ring off his pinky finger, sliding it onto Emma’s own ring finger instead. Curiously, Emma looks at the bauble; it is far too loose on her small finger at first, but as she watches, the band shrinks to fit until it’s a perfect fit. It doesn’t stop though, continuing to tighten and tighten until the metal sears into her skin, burning the flesh until she cries out in pain and tears spring to her eyes. 

And then it’s over. The mysterious man lifts her hand with deceptively soft and delicate fingers, removing that awful ring from her digit to slip it back onto his own.

“You’ll do well, Emma.” The name almost sounds like an insult in his cold voice. “I wish you good fortune.”

(Emma doesn’t notice the item wrapped in a handkerchief Regina passes to the odd man, never realizes that it contains a silver ring to match the one he just used on her, too focused on rubbing at the smooth, scarred skin on her finger where the odd man’s ring just branded her and trying to chase the memory of pain away. One day, she will understand the way that this moment and that ring bound her to a future she didn’t fully understand.

But today, Emma is six, and all she knows is that her finger hurts.)

“You don’t want to do this yourself?” Mr. Gold asks, tucking the handkerchief and ring into his inner breast pocket.

“Obviously not. I’m not nearly as mistrusting as you are,” Regina replies.

(One day soon, Mr. Gold knows he will have cause to execute this binding on a student of his own. It does not matter much to him whether Regina is present for such a binding, though he thinks her a fool for her own sake. After all, knowledge is power - and there is no power greater than knowing your opponent.)

———

A strange man comes to Killian’s school on a Wednesday when he is eight, the kind of day where everything is shifting and changing.

(School is a generous word for this place, as none of the children ever leave, no homes or families to return to at the end of the day. Killian has a brother, three years older, but their mother is long dead. As for their father… as Liam says, the less said about the bastard, the better. There is a reason the two boys have found themselves in this children’s home by any other name.)

The man doesn’t say much, and explains even less. A selection of children, three boys and two girls - including Killian and Liam - are pulled from their regular classes and made to sit for an exam, only instructed to read all the instructions before beginning. The man must have money; the test is printed, each letter pressed in black ink onto the crisp page. It feels like a silly use of money, at least to Killian - he’d much rather use it at one of the concession vendors down by the river - but it’s impressive all the same. The test itself is not fully any one subject; there are translations of languages he doesn’t understand and number puzzles and a curious instruction at the end to only answer questions numbered in multiples of three. At the very end - question 57 - is a short answer question: Why do you think you are here today, and why are you taking this test?

Killian looks around the room at the other children, all diligently working on their own exams. There’s no obvious connector between the five children in the room; Liam has always been brilliant, but Killian is a middling student, and the other boy even lower than that. Some of them are known as quiet and well behaved, but some are not. Some are leaders, some are followers. There’s no obvious pattern.

As to why he’s taking this test… it’s obvious that the man must want to evaluate something, but Killian can’t begin to understand what. As far as his young brain can discern, the exam is about recognizing patterns and following directions. He couldn’t even begin to figure out why.

Killian stares at the space for his answer for what feels like hours. Even after nearly three years in this home, or perhaps because of it, he still has a strong desire to please, to give adults the answers they want to hear; in this case, he just doesn’t know what that is. Finally, as the other children start to put down their pencils, he hurriedly scrawls an answer.

Does it really matter?

After the exams are collected, the children are called in to speak with the man, one by one. None of the conversations are very long, and each trails out with a look of confusion on their face afterwards. Killian tries to catch Liam’s eye as his brother leaves the headmistress’ office, but Liam just furrows his brow and shrugs his shoulders in confusion.

The man holds Killian’s test in his hands when he finally enters the office, appearing to examine his answers. The man is perfectly ordinary in every way; neither short nor tall, thin nor fat, with hair that is not quite brown or blond or grey. The only thing that sets him apart is his clothing - the expensive suit, the perfectly shined shoes, the gold-tipped cane. 

“Does it really matter?” the man quips, diving straight in and obviously quoting Killian’s own response.

Killian swallows heavily; he wouldn’t have written that in the first place if he knew this was coming. “Sir?”

“Your answer,” he expands, as if that needs clarifying. “I’d be curious to hear why you gave that particular answer.”

Killian flushes and looks at his shoes, but the man just waits until he finally answers. “It was obvious you had a reason for having us sit that exam,” he finally explains, “and I had no idea why that was. I didn’t want to guess.”

“You could have left it blank,” the man points out. “Several of the others did. Why the question?”

Killian shrugs. “I wanted to know.” Then, when the silence stretches out between them: “Was that wrong?”

The man stares in silence for a moment longer, before shaking his head. “I would like to take you on as my student,” he declares. When Killian hesitates, his tone turns sharp. “Are you opposed to that?”

“What about my brother?” Killian asks, meeker than he’d like.

“I am only interested in taking one student.” His words are dismissive, bordering on uncaring, and Killian’s stomach plummets.

“But what will happen to him? He’s the only thing I have left.”

“I’m more interested in what happens to you, particularly in relation to my offer, than in your brother.”

In a burst of courage (or, he’ll think in later years, foolishness), Killian pulls himself together to make a fateful declaration. “I’ll go with you… but only if you send Liam - send my brother to school.”

“This is a school.”

“A good school,” Killian clarifies. “The best one. One that will let him do anything he wants when he’s grown up.”

There’s a pause as the mystery man seems to study Killian, though his face gives nothing away. Killian’s heart climbs into his throat as he waits, but he holds his ground. That seems important, somehow - like he’s engaging in some kind of unknown battle. Finally, after what seems an eternity, the odd man tilts his head in a half shrug, as if such a concession is nothing to him. Who knows; with the kind of money he obviously has, maybe it really is nothing. “We have a deal. Go get your things - we leave today.”

(Months later, after many lessons that Killian doesn’t yet understand, the man - Mr. Gold - has Killian place a ring on his finger, a loop of silver that burns a band of flesh on his thumb. A binding, Mr. Gold calls it, tying Killian to a contest that he does not yet understand.

However, it is this transaction - Liam’s education for Killian’s own - that binds him far sooner and better than magic ever could.)

——— 

Magic, Emma finds, is a thread upon the breeze - swirling around them all, lighting upon branches and settling into corners, just waiting to be noticed and harnessed. And Emma does - she feels it, and knows it, and asks it for favors. Dye the dress. Fold the sheet. Heal the dove. The magic deigns to come and wind through her fingers, grip a thread and pull and alter the world to her liking. 

Magic, she finds, is whimsy and wildness all in one, there for her to use and set free once again. Magic is power, more than she will ever wield; her role is but to borrow and return, like a toy set neatly back on a shelf. 

Magic, she finds, is a living thing all its own, and if she works very hard, she just might earn its trust.

Emma grows to enjoy a better childhood than she ever expected before Regina took her off the streets, though it is far from gentle. It is a childhood spent moving from place to place, hopping all over Europe and even to the Americas as Regina performs in theaters around the world. Regina demands nothing less than perfection in their lessons, and Emma grows used to performing the same tasks over and over until her mentor is satisfied - turning tea cups into mice and materializing all manner of objects from unseen rooms and healing her fingertips from where Regina slices the skin with a knife, each scar a supposed indication that she’s not trying hard enough.

But in time, Emma learns and she grows. At 18, Regina deems her skills honed enough to rent her out as a medium, calling upon Emma’s skills to rattle dishes and peer into people’s deepest, saddest thoughts to echo back just what they want to hear. Emma hates every moment of it - lying to people already wracked with grief, taking their money and offering them little satisfaction. She tries to comfort the bereaved as best she can in these sessions, but it’s often of little use. Emma may dread these hollow performances, but what choice does she have? As long as she’s under Regina’s tutelage and protection, Emma’s choices are not her own. 

(She may not know nearly as much about this competition as she should, but Emma longs for the beginning of the contest all the same, if only to finally crawl out from underneath Regina’s thumb.)

———

Magic, Killian finds, is a well of ink, the feeling of satisfaction deep within him when pen births onto page the perfect word, a descriptor for all the things he knew but could never say. It takes hours and years of study, but Killian learns all the ways to channel that pool - each spell, each rune, each intricate bit of charmwork. Magic is hard, but Mr. Gold says all power worth having is; besides, Killian has always been diligent. 

(The lessons are much more interesting than his regular schoolwork, anyways.)

Magic, he learns, is there, if one just knows how to look for it. Most people will go their entire lives without being aware of that; he’s special to have learned. Knowing opens a whole universe of possibility; after that, it’s all down to technique, and finding the right language to channel it. 

Magic, he finds, is a tool, and if he works very hard, he just might be able to harness it to his will. 

Killian’s childhood is a regimented one, filled with books and careful note taking, mastering the theory and principle of every bit of magic he encounters before being allowed to put it to use. As the years stack up, his head fills with runes and symbols and all manner of magical words, like another language he’s slowly become fluent in. In time, Killian learns to piece all of it together into a powerful language only known to a select few - words that can make things happen, that can alter the very world around them. The language of magic, at its very core.

Mr. Gold may be a distant mentor, not prone to affection and rarely even telling Killian he’s proud or pleased, but he keeps his word. Liam attends the best boys’ school that money can secure, impressing his teachers with his innate curiosity and intelligence and making a whole host of friends who are happy to host him on school holidays. Once a month, Mr. Gold takes Killian to see Liam, or brings Liam to see Killian, all with a transport more efficient than any train or carriage. In between, the brothers gladly fill the weeks with exchanged letters, keeping one another apprised of their lives. Killian had told Liam about this arrangement from the beginning - the magic, the competition he’ll one day engage in - and his older brother offers all the pride that Killian doesn’t receive from his mentor. It’s not the path that either anticipated following as children, but it’s a much better life than either expected. There’s a lot to be grateful for.

As Killian grows into a man and learns how to study independently, his enigmatic teacher leaves him to his own devices. Killian prefers it that way, really; though he’s always been grateful for the mysterious, once in a lifetime opportunity he’s been offered, Killian has never been close to his benefactor, not by a long shot. There’s a feeling that hangs over every interaction that he’s never been able to shake, that he owes Mr. Gold in ways he’ll never fully understand. It’s never made for an easy relationship.

Besides, he likes his independence. He is granted a little flat in a quiet and respectable part of the city, with room for a library and a pretty view of a nearby park. It’s more than an orphan like him ever imagined he could have before this opportunity fell in his lap. There are moments of loneliness, but no more than he’s grown used to in youth; besides, as adults, Liam drops by for conversation and a nightcap far more frequently. It’s a little life he’s carved out for himself, with his notebooks and spellbooks and everything in its place, even as he continues the interminable wait for a contest he still barely knows anything about.

It’s all the more surprising, then, when one day the knock at his front door reveals none other but his teacher, as neatly turned out as ever and utterly unexpected.

“Won’t you come in?” Killian asks, stepping aside in welcome. He doesn’t much expect the invitation to be accepted, but he asks all the same; he’s used to interactions with his teacher being strictly business. 

Sure enough: “That won’t be necessary. This will only be a moment.” Gold’s tone might generously be described as brusque, if Killian was in a mood to be so generous. He’s not, particularly. 

“What can I do for you, then?”

“A Mr. Jefferson Madigan will be seeking a secretary and assistant,” Gold tells him, handing over someone else’s calling card. “You will apply for that position.”

It’s an odd command; Killian’s benefactor has never cultivated much of an opinion about his life of study and leisure up to this point. But suddenly, it clicks. “Is this about the challenge?”

“Mr. Madigan and his companions will be creating a venue.” Technically, it’s neither a confirmation nor a denial, but over the years, Killian has learned to read those answers as well as any book. It’s an affirmative. “It will be to your advantage to become part of that circle.”

“I understand,” Killian nods gravely.

“Make sure that you do.”

Killian looks down to examine the address on the calling card, and by the time he looks up again, Gold is gone. His teacher does that, he’s learned - found a way to move through the world while barely leaving a mark upon it. With the conversation clearly over, Killian closes his flat door.

(All the while, a metaphorical door of possibility has been thrown wide open.)

———

Mr. Jefferson Madigan may be the man for whom the word eccentric was crafted.

The townhouse is only a townhouse in the aristocratic sense of the word, more an elaborate and enormous monolith situated in town than just a normal dwelling. The door knocker is cast in the shape of two dragons, and curtains in a variety of different and garish colors peek through the window. At the bottom of what are otherwise staid, conventional stone steps are marble statues of a rabbit and a dormouse where regal lions might usually be.

It all makes sense when the man himself opens the door. While Killian has taken care to dress neatly in a trim, dark colored suit and tie, making his best attempt at the appearance of professionalism, Madigan is a riot of colors and patterns that Killian isn’t entirely certain match, but seem fitting all the same. Behind him, the entry hall is decorated in a jewel-tone blue with golden patterns and baseboards, but that makes a little more sense now that Killian has seen the man himself.

“Are you here about the vaudeville acts? Because I’m afraid that we’re rather moved on from that idea,” he says without introduction, words tumbling one right over the other in a jumble.

“I… No,” Killian manages to stutter out. A question like that has a way of putting a man off-guard. “I was led to believe you were in need of a secretary or assistant?”

“Ah. That makes more sense.” Mr. Madigan nods as if to cement it in his head. “Have you done that kind of work before?”

“No, Sir.”

“Well, that’s fine, I’ve never had a secretary before either.” By the look on his face, Madigan would be much more comfortable conducting an interview for a vaudeville actor than a secretary. “Then can you… I don’t know. Read and write and do sums? File things? I don’t think I’ve ever filed something in my life,” he mutters to himself.

“Yes, Sir. To all of it.”

“Well then good, you’re hired. Do you think I need to be filing things? It’s something I’ve never really thought about before.”

Jefferson, as he prefers to be called (“Don’t even try that Mr. Madigan nonsense, I won’t answer to it.”), is planning a circus - what Killian imagines is the venue he’s heard about for a decade and a half. And it sounds magnificent the way Jefferson describes it - something otherworldly. More an entire sensory experience than just a show, spanning dozens of tents and food stands and performers scattered across the grounds. The way he envisions it, the endeavor is more experience than anything else - simultaneously a performance space and a theater and a zoo and a venue for all kinds of edible delicacies. Perhaps carnival would be the better word, but Jefferson insists on circus. 

“There’s a sense of mystery to the word, Killian,” he decrees while jotting down what is doubtless another half-baked idea on the back of a receipt. “Anyone can hold a carnival, but a circus… marvelous, magical things happen at the circus. It will look better in the papers anyways.”

(Killian will need to do so much filing to keep all this in order.)

It quickly becomes obvious that Jefferson is primarily an ideas man - and while his ideas are spectacular in so many ways, he needs assistance in bringing those ideas to life. It’s immediately obvious why he needs an assistant; for a man who spends so much of his time with his head in the clouds, lost in ideals and fanciful imagining, it’s hard to manage the practicalities of the day-to-day implementation. 

There are investors of course, men who flit in and out of the planning at will as if just to make sure that their money is actually being used properly. Killian isn’t fully surprised to see his mentor is one of them; doubtless, that’s how he knew to direct Killian to Jefferson’s door in the first place. He doubts that anyone else truly remembers the man, however; Killian has long since learned to recognize the cloak of forgetability his teacher likes to draw around himself. 

(There are different kinds of power, Killian has learned over the years - the kind that comes from everyone knowing what you can do, and the kind that comes from no one knowing what you can do.)

Killian learns that he is a late addition, comparatively speaking; a small collection of people have already been met on the matter, creating a small stack of roughly sketched plans that he’s sure will inevitably grow by the day. Jefferson holds a reputation, Killian has learned, for a series of elaborate late-night soirées known only as Midnight Dinners, famously exclusive events with over a dozen exotic courses and unmatched entertainments. Jefferson is a producer by trade, an entertainer in every bit of his being, and these private entertainments may be the pinnacle of his accomplishments.

(Or may have been, at least; Killian has a feeling that this circus he envisions may surpass anything else.)

The circus is born at one of these dinners - an intimate one, with only five attendees, handpicked by Jefferson as the men and women necessary to bring his vision to life. The vaguest outline was sketched that first night, tacked to the walls in the emerald green study Jefferson has set aside especially for the circus and its plans. Already, there is a stack of opened envelopes on a side table, filled with ideas the other attendees simply couldn’t hold onto until the next meeting.

They’re an interesting collection, certainly. Madame Constance Blue is a former opera singer who’s found a second career in fashion. Her eye for color and aesthetic is fabled as being unmatched - a talent she brings to this endeavor to create a cohesive environment that looks like another world on the outskirts of the city. Elsa and Anna Frost are a pair of sisters, socialites who have tried a little bit of everything, from a stint in the ballet and art school to a time as librarians they will only speak about after great persuasion. Where Madame Blue may create a visual environment for the circus, the Misses Frost are experts on the feel - all of the rest of those details from the positioning of signage to the very scents in the air, those details that so few consider but still manage to sell or doom an experience. Their little group, most meetings, is rounded out by Mr. August Booth, an architect and engineer by trade, who draws up marvelous plans for each tent and attraction. All of it embodies an elegant simplicity centered around a series of circles, one curve bleeding into another in a way that feels organic, nearly living. It makes the straight black and white stripes of the tents all the more striking in contrast to this world of elegant curves. One contributor’s work bleeds into the other, all with Jefferson at the helm to lend his ideas of what kinds of things should be presented, creating a venue that feels like a realization of all their dreams.

(The last attendee, Mr. Gold - who betrays no indication that he and Killian are even remotely acquainted - has no particular, obvious specialty that he lends to the endeavor. In fact, he barely seems to speak and is nearly forgotten in the rest of the bustle of the Circus Dinners. Somehow, though, even if no one can put their finger on what exactly Mr. Gold does, it is agreed that his contributions are essential, and that everything runs smoother and more productively at those few dinners he does attend.)

(He is always referred to by surname; though the other attendees are certain they were told his first name upon first introduction, they have no memory of what that moniker might be, and decide it would be rude to ask. )

With each dinner, the Circus fleshes out a little bit more, each piece carefully filed away so it can all fit together later. There are designs for the gates and August’s wonderful blueprints for the butterfly tents and lists of confections that must be offered. As time keeps churning forward, the members of their little dinner group increasingly start to travel, seeking out the perfect craftsmen and performers and creators to bring this endeavor to life. There are acrobats training in France and an intricate clock being crafted in Germany and Jefferson and Killian will be travelling to Scotland next week to see about a pair of big cat trainers as August travels to Austria to see about some trained horses.

But tonight, they’re all here for dinner, and there’s an unexpected guest at the door. A tall, slender woman, who claims to be a sword swallower.

“What’s the harm?” Jefferson asks when Killian informs him cautiously, sweeping his arm in a grand motion. The Circus Dinners are exclusive, and nearly sacred, but she’s here about the circus. And Jefferson has always been generous by nature. “Show her in, Jones, we’ll set another plate at the table.”

The woman introduces herself as Mulan - no second name, and no indication whether that’s her given name or surname. As the clock strikes midnight and the first plates are brought out, she climbs the low dais usually reserved for a pianist and begins her demonstration.

And it is so much more than just a sword swallowing act. Mulan moves with an almost supernatural grace, whirling her blades in an intricate and deadly dance. She tosses her swords and balances them on the tips of fingers and the ridge of her chin. And she does send the swords down her gullet, in ways that make Anna and Elsa and even composed August gasp. Each move blends one into another into another, beautiful in a savage way that leaves them all on the edge of their seats as she twirls and even flips. It mesmerizes their little audience, as delicate appetizers sit untouched on their plates.

At the conclusion of her display, Mulan resheathes her swords with a satisfying hiss of metal against metal before executing a dramatic bow, nearly bending in half in the process. Their audience erupts into applause; across from Killian, Jefferson springs to his feet in a standing ovation.

“Brilliant! Simply brilliant!” Jefferson darts up to the platform to shake Mulan’s hand vigorously, much to her apparent amusement. “We simply must have you for the circus. A platform out in the open in the crowds, right near the center, don’t you think, Elsa?”

“It certainly would be a shame to hide her away in a tent,” the blonde agrees. “I don’t think we’ll find anyone else to match her talent, either. Would you be comfortable with that? Performing to a passing crowd?” she addresses Mulan to finish. 

Mulan nods solemnly, though a slight smile dances in her eyes and on her lips. “My skills are not limited by venue, you’ll find.”

“Excellent!” Jefferson crows. “You know, this is exactly what the Circus should be. More than expected. Anything but mundane. Up close and pressing past anything seen before and - oh! It’s just perfect. Welcome to the Circus, Madame.”

Jefferson’s words become a mantra as they move forward - to push boundaries, to seek people and things that are more than anyone would ever imagine.

It is what may become the making of the circus.

———

Looking back, once they come to know one another better, Killian will find it fitting that he meets Belle in a used book store.

He’s taken to wandering these stores on his rare days off with a pair of notebooks in his jacket pocket - one for little bits of magical research, and the other for chronicling any ideas he might stumble across for the Circus. Over time, Killian has discovered that odd, unusual, and even historic tomes have a way of accumulating in used bookshops, overlooked and nearly lost to time. On shelves such as these, Killian has located alchemical treatises and books of magical theory and even a potions compendium that appeared to the untrained eye to be a simple accounting of folk remedies. In a way, he supposes that’s right; it just overlooks the dash of magic that’s an extra, if necessary ingredient. These old bookstores are a good source, too, of unusual and exotic attractions and obscure ideas for confections. Whenever Killian stumbles across something he hasn’t seen before that he thinks will be of use, he records it carefully in the pertinent notebook, one tucked into each of his coat pockets, before purchasing the volume or returning it to its place on the so-often messy and cluttered shelves. 

This particular day had been less than fruitful, though Killian would never call it wasted. Even if he doesn’t manage to excavate any scrap of information, the whole environment is calming - something Killian sorely needs, more often than not. He walks back to his flat at a leisurely pace, just enjoying the crisp fall day, when he suddenly realizes - 

One of his pockets is lighter than it ought to be. 

Quickly, Killian doubles back to the bookshop. This isn’t the first time this has happened - it’s all too easy to accidentally leave a little leather-bound notebook on a shelf in an environment full of other leather-bound books, and Killian does remember pulling out the notebook to record a particular line of a spell he’d remembered he had already recorded just as soon as his pencil had lifted off the page. A quick check of the notebook in his other pocket reveals that it is, indeed, his magic notes that are missing. It’s a mild irritant, but nothing unusual for a man with a million other things on his mind.

What is more unusual, however, is to turn the corner only to see a young woman outside the shop, paging through what appears to be his own notes with a look of marked interest on her face.

She’s pretty, Killian notes, with prim brunette curls that frame her face below a beribboned, feathered hat and a petite frame that seems dwarfed by the yellow dress beneath a neat burgundy jacket. He only spares a moment to look, however, before he intervenes for the sake of his book. If she’s half as clever as that intent crinkle in her brow suggests, it may be too late.

The young lady jerks her head to attention as Killian clears his throat, a becoming blush staining her cheeks. “I believe you have something of mine,” he comments, nodding towards the book in her hand. 

“Ah, yes.” She carefully closes the pages, handing the little notebook back to him. “You’ll be Mr. Jones, then?” Killian nods an affirmative as he takes the book back - not that it stops her string of thoughts. “I do promise that I was trying to bring it back, sir - I saw you leave it down that one aisle where the cat particularly likes to sleep - but you had already left and, I see now, most likely had turned a corner and, well, I’ve already been a little curious and I just couldn’t resist flipping through the pages and —”

“Miss, it’s fine” he smiles. “I’m just relieved to have it back. That little notebook is indispensable to me.”

“I recognize some of the symbols in there,” his companion blurts out. Killian is discovering she has a tendency to do that while nervous. “Alchemical symbols, and astrological ones. Not the rest, but… well, those are all over the pages.”

“And what would you know about alchemical and astrological symbols? Seems an unusual hobby for a proper young lady, Miss…”

“Belle French. I read a lot of books.”

“Books on alchemy and astrology?”

“Yes.” She blushes again. “I came into possession of a deck of tarot cards a few years ago. It seemed worth doing my research. The alchemical bits were an accident that expanded into a separate research project.”

“You read the tarot then? I wouldn’t have expected that of a dignified lady like yourself.”

“Only for myself,” she admits. “It’s not precisely something you can practice at the average tea party. I find myself more curious what a proper young man like yourself,” she mocks his own tone, “is doing with a notebook full of such symbols.”

“Perhaps I, too, accidentally conducted extensive research into alchemy.”

Miss French fixes him with a skeptical look. “I don’t believe that for a moment. What’s the real reason?”

Killian sighs. “That’s… rather a longer story. Best settled somewhere else, if it must be told. Would you care to join me at a bistro I know?”

That should be the end of the matter. No proper young woman would agree to such a thing.

But Miss Belle French seems to be no such proper young woman, and she says yes.

It takes a hearty sip of wine once they’re settled in Killian’s favorite Parisian-style bistro for him to muster the words to speak. “I am… a student. Of sorts.”

“A student of what?” Miss French asks around her own, more delicate sip.

Now is the moment of truth, where she believes him or she doesn’t. “Of magic.”

Miss French’s brow furrows for just a confusion. “Magic? Like the illusion acts you see at the theaters?”

“A little more than that,” he tries to explain. “It’s… well. When you read your cards, does it feel like some rote interpretation? Or like you’re channeling something, the mere conduit for the cards?”

“The latter, I suppose.”

“That’s a form of magic. A very special one, actually, one that not everyone can find. I can’t.”

“So your… magic isn’t like that then?”

“It’s more like… a secret language,” Killian tries to explain. “It’s something I can find deep within me, and speak into existence.”

His lovely companion still looks unconvinced - not that he can blame her. It’s a lot to wrap one’s head around. “You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t disbelieve you,” she’s careful to say. “But you must admit, Mr. Jones, that it’s an awful lot to take in.”

Killian thinks for a moment, before settling in his mind on a way to prove it. “Is there anywhere you’ve ever wanted to go? Someplace you’ve never seen, but always wanted to?”

“I’ve always wanted to visit the beach, and see the ocean,” she replies wistfully.

“I can make that happen.”

“With your magic, I suppose?”

“Yes. Do you trust me?”

Miss French hesitates for just a moment before nodding. 

“Then take my hands, and close your eyes.”

With her soft hands in his own, Killian draws upon the words, murmuring them into the back corner of the cafe where they sit. Slowly, the dim lighting and faint smell of smoke dissipates, replaced by warm sunlight and the faint rush of the tide coming in.

Miss French opens her eyes without his asking, gasping as she takes in the illusion of an environment he’s created. Gulls circle overhead; were she to remove her shoes, she’d feel soft sand beneath her toes, stretching as far as the eye can see.

“It’s marvelous,” she breathes. “And you did all this?”

“Aye. And I can do much more.”

It’s evident that in this moment, at least, she doesn’t care about much more; she’s too enthralled with the ocean in front of her. 

“You know, Mr. Jones, I think we were meant to meet today,” she murmurs. “And I don’t even need the cards to say it.”

She becomes a friend, over time, over cups of tea and discussions of his studies and her practice with her tarot cards; the first real friend he’s ever had. Mr. Gold doesn’t approve, claiming that she’s a distraction, but Killian doesn’t much care. She makes his life better, in those hours he isn’t called away by the circus. And as the planning rolls on, turning into reality, she lends a listening ear every step of the way. 

Neither of them can predict how much will change with the hiring of the illusionist.

———

It’s been years of this - the constant preparing for something she doesn’t fully understand, of being tested, being pushed to what Emma believes are her very limits before discovering that she still has more to give, to bleed, to learn. A sense of anticipation hangs over her entire life, such as it is, and she doesn’t even know what she’s waiting for, or how long it will take to get here. Regina has told her time and again to be patient, that things will become clearer in time, that this isn’t something frivolous, you foolish girl, you can’t rush it, but Emma has never been one for patience. She is 24, and it has been 18 years, and there is still no sign of whatever this competition is, or will be.

Until one day, a neat envelope appears on the dressing table in Emma’s room in the ostentatious flat she has shared with Regina since the very beginning whenever they’re in London.

It would be in your best interest to present yourself at the below address on June the 19th.

The missive isn’t signed, but Emma doesn’t need a signature anyways; it’s evident in the neat gilt letters on the crisp cream-colored parchment that this message is from the man with the cane. Mr. Gold, half a memory whispers, though he’s done his very best to remove himself from memory. There is no postmark, and no messenger; it is clear to Emma that this card has appeared without the intervention of a human hand. Not that the man she suspects would need such mundane means to deliver a message. Emma has grown up surrounded by and steeped in magic, and she has long since learned to recognize true power - and even though she was only a child the single time she met the man with the gold-tipped cane, she’d felt even then the magic clustered all around him like metal filings to a magnet. To a man like that, delivery of this message would be the easiest thing in the world. 

There’s a newspaper clipping too, Emma realizes as she slowly moves to find and show her teacher. It’s an advertisement, seeking an illusionist, with the address of a modest theater at which she should apply.

Seeking an extraordinary individual to marvel and amaze, the cramped newsprint proclaims. An unmatched opportunity to become part of an unprecedented entertainment spectacle.

“What have you got there?” Regina asks when Emma enters their parlor, examining every inch of the message and its attached advertisement. The words are closer to a demand than an inquiry, but Emma isn’t particularly surprised; these kinds of interactions have always been her teacher’s modus operandi. 

“A note. I found it on my dressing table.” Carefully, Emma passes the documents to Regina for the other woman’s examination. As Regina reads the words, a devious kind of smile inches its way across her face. 

“You know what this means, don’t you?” she asks Emma with that same odd smile. It only widens when Emma shakes her head in the negative. “It means we’ve reached the beginning.”

And with those six words, the next phase of Emma’s life begins.

———

Killian thought he knew what to expect - but he never expected her.

They’d placed advertisements in all the major papers, seeking an illusionist for the circus - a magician. Jefferson, for all his endless inspiration and imagination, has never realized that the most fitting candidate for this particular job has been silently at his side for the past two years, through every bit of planning. Jefferson never realizes that there’s a reason that this has all come together unnaturally smoothly, as if aided by unseen forces.

Jefferson, for all his endless imagination, will never believe that humans are capable of anything more than illusion, will never believe that true magic is possible.

(That’s for the best, really; Mr. Gold just needs a pawn to create a venue, and Killian… well, Killian just wants, nay, needs to limit the collateral lives disrupted for the purposes of this competition.)

Attending the auditions as Jefferson’s personal secretary to record any decisions ultimately made, Killian expects a long parade of conmen, of charlatans and fakers and all the normal cast of characters that pass for magicians in a world that refuses to see the truth. And he gets them in spades, with card tricks and pretty assistants and poorly behaved rabbits who are more interested in exploring the legs of the mezzanine chairs than disappearing into hats. Maybe those kinds of displays would be good enough for most undertakings; the public will be expecting the normal sort of “magic” displays, after all. 

But this is for the circus - and the circus must be more than that. 

(It’s for exactly that reason that Killian draws a tricky bit of magic about himself that he picked up from his mentor years ago - a charm to smother any traces of magic about him, to make him seem so ordinary that strangers’ eyes don’t bother to linger. He may expect a long line of fakes, but on the off chance this attracts someone of more genuine talent… Killian isn’t taking any chances.)

Killian never even sees her coming. It’s their last appointment of the day after a chain of disappointments, and frankly, he’s ready for a cup of tea, or perhaps a glass of something stronger. But then the young man who works at the theater is clearing his throat to announce the next applicant, and Killian looks up —

And it’s her. 

The woman before him is beautiful - collected, quiet, but with a confidence that shows in her bearing, in the straightness of her spine and the sure look on her face. She wears an emerald green dress with a black velvet jacket with trailing sleeves, and she looks a picture - possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. She looks more suited to fashionable tea rooms, or strolling along the street to perhaps visit an acquaintance, or any of those other ordinary things women of means and unnatural beauty do with their days. It’s obvious, though, that ordinary is the last word that could be used to describe her. Even from across the room, he can sense the magic that clings to her skin like traces of ink - true magic, not the facsimiles he’s suffered through all day. 

He knows immediately that this woman - whoever she may be - is the opponent he’s been anticipating for 18 years, since he was only 8 years old, and the knowledge simultaneously exhilarates and terrifies him.

(Even if he’s been working for two years to help bring this competition, this circus to life, it suddenly feels real to see his competitor across from him, flesh and blood and blond curls.)

(He has no business forming an attachment, but she already fascinates him on a level far more personal than professional.)

“Your name?” Killian hears Jefferson ask, as if from a distance. That’s not the reality of this situation, really; his employer sits in the seat right in front of Killian’s own, barely two feet apart. It’s hard to focus on anything else, though, with an angel standing in front of them all. 

“Emma Swan,” she answers. Her voice isn’t loud, but it’s sure, and with its own particular melody. “I understand you’re looking for an illusionist.”

“We are indeed, Miss Swan. And do you believe you’re the man - my pardon, woman for the job?” Jefferson wears what Killian has learned is his most charming smile, and Killian feels an unwarranted flash of irritation. Can’t he see this creature isn’t for him? Isn’t some simpering young girl to melt at his attentions?

(It’s a relief to see that, while Miss Swan does smile back, it’s only a smirk of seeming amusement. She’s here for other things, they both know, even if Jefferson doesn’t.)

“That’s for your judgement, isn’t it?” As Emma poses the question, she carefully strips out of her jacket, only to toss it carelessly towards a chair. As the fabric sails through the air, however, it miraculously turns into a raven, circling the room before landing back in one of the investors’ laps, abruptly a stack of folded velvet once more. Miss Swan may make it look easy, nearly thoughtless, but it’s evident to Killian that she’s performed a very impressive piece of magic - and evident to all those less observant as well. The amused little smirk returns as Miss Swan calmly folds her hands atop the green satin of her dress. “But I believe so, yes.”

What follows is exactly the impressive spectacle of magic they’d hoped to find, but Killian never believed they would.

The gentlemen’s handkerchiefs turn into doves, which fly to perch at the edge of the stage. The delicate flowers of the wallpaper peel from the walls to beautiful, fragrant life. At one point, their chairs all lift to hover a foot above the ground. One trick flows into the next, and into the next again, all conducted by the extraordinary Miss Swan with graceful hands and barely any appearance of effort. It feels like the entire audience, small though it might be, holds its breath as the magician completes her display, conjuring her crisply folded jacket back into a raven. In a flurry of feathers, the bird dives towards its mistress as the audience watches anxiously, only to reappear as a drapery once again on the pale, delicate arms of the enchanting Miss Swan. 

Ahead of Killian, Jefferson and the other producers explode into a flurry of applause - a well earned ovation, in his not-so-humble opinion. That was… spectacular. Amazing. Magical.

“Bravo, Miss Swan!” Jefferson calls, jumping nimbly up the stairs at the front of the stage to shake her hand. “I think you’re just the thing we’ve been looking for. Won’t she look lovely, Constance?”

“She’ll make a statement, certainly,” Madame Blue replies. This might be the closest Killian has seen the formidable woman to satisfaction. “We’ll have to plan the wardrobe carefully, of course. Something… striking. A bit out of the ordinary, with outer layers to remove. That trick with the jacket was extraordinary,” she finally addresses the subject of their discussion. “I imagine you’ll want to incorporate it.”

“I had planned to in some form, yes,” Miss Swan confirms. “Is there a particular… concern you have about my clothing?”

“Please don’t mistake us, Miss Swan,” Jefferson hurries to assure her. “You look absolutely lovely. We’re trying to create an entire atmosphere in this endeavor, you see. An entire circus, all in black and white and silver. Including its members. Madame Blue, here, is an invaluable help in creating that.”

“I see,” Miss Swan nods. “So I suppose you’re thinking something more like this?” 

As she speaks, they’re treated to one final trick, as the green of her skirts flees at the touch of a finger, changing to pearly skirts that slowly give way to an ink black hem. As with every display of her magic, it’s graceful, effortless; more than that, as her dress completes its transformation, skirts widening to a dramatic sweep in the process, she looks like the very essence of everything they want the circus to be. 

Killian gapes. Madame Blue nods approvingly. Jefferson beams.

“Splendid! Oh, absolutely marvelous. Never tell me how you do that. Yes, that will do very nicely indeed, Miss Swan. You’re hired.”

As if anyone else would ever do.

———

Killian shows up at Liam’s door that night, to the small but comfortable apartment a junior banker shouldn’t yet be able to afford on his salary.

(He’s always been sure to care for his brother, the same way his brother always cared for him.)

He must look a wreck when Liam opens the door, as his brother moves to pour them both a measure of rum without even being asked. His neat necktie has been loosened in the past hour and his hair is doubtless a riot from running his hand up the back, but Killian thinks it’s more whatever look he wears on his face that spurs Liam into action.

“I met them today. Her,” Killian finally confides once they’re both settled into the plush, if hideous armchairs in front of the fire.

“Who’s this, now?”

“My competitor.” Killian attempts a chuckle, but can’t quite manage it. “This game I’ve been prepared for for so long… the other person was always just some amorphous concept. Of course there’d be a competitor, it’s a game. But… I met her today, Liam.”

Liam takes another sip from his tumbler. “I take it that’s a bad thing?”

Killian fiddles with the scar on his thumb as he thinks, the seared band of skin the contract tying him to this competition. It doesn’t bother him, never has, really; most days, he wears a silver ring to conceal the mark from the many curious eyes in Jefferson’s winding townhome, but he’s taken the piece of jewelry off tonight. Tonight is a night for confession, for laying his myriad of confused feelings on the table, not for concealment. 

“I don’t know that it’s bad, per se,” he finally replies. “It’s just… she was never a person until today. I know I’ve been working with Jefferson and his colleagues for two years to bring the venue for this competition to life, but meeting a real, live person is something else. It made it real, in a way.”

“And you’d rather it wasn’t,” Liam infers.

Killian says nothing, ready to neither confirm nor deny that. It’s been an unexpected day, and he’s still trying to process the novelty of having a name and a face. This has been years of his life - 18 years of them - and it finally feels like the waiting is done. 

Liam tries again. “What’s she like, then?”

“Composed.” It’s too stiff a word for the vibrant creature he witnessed today, but it’s the first that comes to mind. She’d seemed perfectly composed, fully in control of everything around her. There’s more than that, though. “She was confident, mostly, in that kind of understated way where you could tell she knew exactly what she was doing without ever having to brag about it. She seemed bloody brilliant, honestly,” Killian admits.

“That sounds like an awful lot of admiration for a woman you’re supposed to view as your foe,” Liam comments with that lift of the brow Killian adopted himself years and years ago. 

“She’s beautiful,” Killian says simply. “She’s perfectly lovely, and honestly? I don’t really want to battle her.”

“So what will you do?”

“I don’t know,” Killian replies truthfully.

He never expected this knowledge to create more questions than answers.

(Killian is beginning to think that just may be the way of this competition; frustration and confusion at every turn.)

(As his mentor has so often says: magic comes with a price.)

———

Now that he knows his competition, it becomes obvious that Miss Swan has an advantage over Killian: while he may exist outside the Circus, maneuvering the board from afar, she’ll live right in the heart of it, manipulating things from within. After all these years, Killian still only knows that the Circus is meant to be a venue for him to test and stretch his abilities beyond anything he ever imagined until, inexplicably, one of them is crowned the winner. From his standpoint, Miss Swan will find that much easier, as she doesn’t have a distance to reckon with. Hell, he won’t even know when she makes a move, so to speak.

Unexpectedly, it is Belle who finds a solution to that. 

“I could be your spy, you know,” she proposes. They’ve long since abandoned formal last names and proper tea shops for lounging in his flat, her with a book and he with one of his notebooks or some circus plans he’s perfecting. So, too, has Belle long since been apprised of all the misty particulars of this competition.

Killian frowns. “I don’t follow.”

“Well, you need a way to hear the news of the circus, right? Everything this Miss Swan does, at least in regards to the Circus. All the little changes she might make.”

“That’s right.”

“And it’s true, too, that the Circus still needs a fortune teller.”

Realization slowly dawns. “Belle, I couldn’t ask you to —”

“You’re not asking; I’m offering,” she interrupts. “I can read my cards for visitors. You’ll be so busy with the Circus, anyways, and making your own moves in this competition, that we’ll barely see each other anymore. You can arrange that, right? To hire me as the fortune teller?”

“Of course - but Belle, are you certain?”

“Nothing is ever certain, Killian,” she scolds affectionately, good-naturedly. “But I want to help. And besides, I’ve always wanted to see the world. What better opportunity will I find, or make?”

When Killian personally vouches for Belle to Jefferson, her hiring is arranged as quickly as promised. He can’t help but feel like this is a mistake, somehow, but the benefits are undeniable. Belle packs her bags and promises to be a faithful correspondent - a promise he knows she’ll admirably fulfill.

(He tries not to think about how she’s one more life he’s tied to the Circus, one more article of collateral damage if and when this all ends.)

———

After so long in her contained world, constantly under Regina’s critical eye, Emma finds she loves the communal atmosphere of the circus. Emma’s little compartment is so much more compact than the rooms she’s grown used to over the years, but there’s a particular coziness that feels more comfortable than anything she’s known before. Maybe it’s the knowledge that this space is truly hers, without monitoring or judgement. She lines the walls with spell books and herbal manuals and silly novels, hangs cages for her doves from the ceiling, shoves a small desk in one corner and a well padded armchair in the other, and spreads a brightly pieced quilt over the bunk’s mattress. She makes it home, in a way she’d never thought she’d achieve. 

(She’s wanted a home since she was a child, went with Regina in partial hope that she’d find one, but it’s only now at the age of 24 that she’s made it with her own two hands and a good bit of magic.)

She watches the circus come together too, in staging grounds just outside of London. Each tent is carefully constructed in black and white stripes, though their height and circumference vary. The acrobats’ tents soar the highest, starting to fade into the starry skies to accommodate the trapezes and tightropes beneath the cloth surface. On the other end of the spectrum the fortune teller’s tent is barely large enough for two people and a table. 

Emma’s tent is somewhere in between. It’s not large, by any means, but there’s enough space for a clearing at the center and two rows of chairs circling all the way around the edges. It’s interactive, in a way Emma never imagined a theater could be when she was a child under Regina’s care. Then again, it’s not really a theater, is it? It’s more a… space. An arena. Truthfully, Emma isn’t sure there’s a word for the intimate feel of this arrangement. Her audience will be right there, enhancing the display in a way Emma hadn’t imagined. Then again, when you’re practicing true magic instead of illusion, you don’t need that extra separation. 

Once it’s time to eventually move on, the whole venue has been carefully constructed to fold and stow away into a series of boxcars and containers for transport. It’s all a little unbelievable, really, the ease with which something so sprawling can stow so neatly away. There’s an atmosphere at the circus, however, even amongst its members, that anything might happen, and the logistics are never questioned as the specially hired crew of workers scurry about, practicing folding and unfolding each tent into their respective boxcars. Maybe they already know that something supernatural is at work; the longer Emma spends at the circus, the more she wonders if this is the one place on Earth where magic can exist in plain sight without question.

(There’s something about the traces of magic at the folds and joints of each structure that feels familiar in a way Emma can’t quite put her finger on - like she’s encountered it before. It’s a rare trace of her competitor in an environment where she still doesn’t know their identity.)

If the circus is the first real home Emma’s ever found, then its members may be her first real family. She’s always felt… different, all too aware of how her abilities have set her apart from other people since she was a little girl. The wonderful thing that she’s discovered is that everyone is a little odd at the circus, even without magic. There are contortionists and animal tamers and acrobats and all manner of other performers, all good people who don’t fit within the bounds of conventional society. Even the vendors, the souvenir sellers and the concession dealers, are the kind of people more willing to believe in the unusual without question. It’s a welcoming, accepting, happy environment that Emma revels in.

There are individuals that Emma makes particular friends with. Ruby, who, along with her husband Graham, works with wolves , is an absolute spitfire who keeps them all entertained with her wit and predictions for the circus. Mary Margaret, who performs tricks with a flock of trained birds, and her husband David, one of the stagehands, are as sweet a couple as Emma’s ever seen and determined to spread that love to everyone else around them as well. It feels a little like they’ve adopted her as an adult child, set upon caring for her in any way they can, and Emma finds she kind of likes it. 

(There’s the fortune teller, too - Belle, a kind and quiet woman that Emma is friendly with, if not close. Somehow, Emma gets the feeling that Belle knows more about this whole thing than anyone else, but can’t put her finger on why. She’d know if the petite little brunette was her opponent, she’s sure; surely she’d sense her opponent’s own magic, the way she can always see the way her own gathers like dozens of little stray hairs about her person.)

There’s a feeling of comradery amongst the group of them, of family. They’re a stability that Emma craves in the midst of all this uncertainty, a support system even if she can’t reveal the stakes she’s facing. As simple a word as it is, they’re friends, and that’s a thing that’s been sorely lacking Emma’s entire life. 

Mulan, however, is a different story. It’s not that they’re not friends - Emma would say that they’re consistently friendly. Emma had immediately noticed the way magic had clung to the other woman in the same way that it does to herself. Here, Mulan may be a sword swallower, but she’s undeniably a powerful magician too. 

“This isn’t the first time that such a competition has been staged,” Mulan tells her over tea as her spoon stirs in sugar without apparent human hand, a thread of magic spooling and unspooling about the metal over and over again.

“So how do I win, then?” If Mulan has been in her shoes before - and indeed, the other woman’s particular brand of magic suggests she trained under Emma’s own mentor, Regina - then this could be a critical advantage for Emma.

But Mulan shakes her head. “That’s something you have to discover in your own time. I’m here merely as… an observer. Support, perhaps. But not to interfere.”

(Even as she says the words, Emma can see a sadness in Mulan’s eyes that sends a stab of foreboding through Emma’s heart.)

There’s an entire universe of possibilities contained within the wrought iron gates, different ways this all could play out. Emma feels within her heart that even if the circus hasn’t opened, the competition has already begun; after all, she’s already tied her own magic to its construction, the way it expands and contracts and travels, lending her own abilities to those enchantments someone else already set. 

There will be a chance to test that tomorrow, as all of this is folded up and moved to where the circus will celebrate its opening night in barely 72 hours’ time. It’s a delicate business, but will be worth it when the effect is finally unveiled - or at least Emma hopes it will be. It’s hard to imagine anyone not loving the circus, in all its wonder, just as much as they do, but dozens of lives are tied to the circus - now dozens of homes and salaries and futures. It’s hard not to feel a little nervous about all that is to come, for their sakes if not her own. 

Above the ticketing booths at the front gates of the circus sits an enormous cuckoo clock, with figures and designs constantly shifting, changing from black to white and back again. Emma likes to come and watch the clock in the moments she takes for herself; there’s something about the simple, elegant mechanics that calms her, shows her the beauty that can exist without magic. Her entire world will change once again once the circus opens its gates for the first time, but the clock is a reminder that change is more than inevitable - it is natural, and sometimes even good. 

As the clock ticks the minutes away overhead, Emma closes her eyes and centers herself. All around her, she can feel the energies of all the people who bring the circus to life - happy and excited and good, in a way she hadn’t known existed. All these lives in her hands, caught up in this competition without even knowing it.

And Emma will do her damndest to protect every one.

———

There’s a party, the night before the circus opens its gates for the first time, at the lavish townhouse of the circus’ proprietor. It’s perfectly in keeping with what Emma knows of the man; Jefferson - as he insists on being called, damn the proprieties - is generous by nature, despite (or perhaps because of) his eccentricities. Where anyone else would balk at the collected mass of the Circus’ players and crew showing up on their doorstep and traipsing through their halls, Jefferson welcomes them with open arms, seeming to delight in the chaos they might bring with them. 

At the Circus, they might be clad in black and white and every shade in between, but Jefferson’s halls are a riot of color tonight - and not just due to his bold decorating preferences. The circus members have truly let loose for the occasion, in a wide array of colors and patterns - green stripes and purple layered on blue and polka-dotted waistcoats, all melding together into a unique symphony of hues never seen before or since. Emma herself wears a red gown that makes her feel like a princess, with long sleeves and a scooped neckline and beading along the bust. Technically, the dress has looked far different when she started with it - a dark navy blue and rather more demure than this end result, though the cloth itself was of good quality - but she’s always had a deft hand with fabrics. It comes in handy in her small train car room, where she really only has room for a single trunk unless she gets magically creative with her storage space.

The party is, by all appearances, a roaring success. Dinner features the widest variety of options imaginable, featuring dishes seemingly from every corner of the globe. There are fountains of chocolate and tiny little bites of meat and vegetables and the most delicate pastries Emma has ever eaten in her life. After dinner, there’s music and dancing and gaming tables in the parlor. The hired band keeps playing a series of merry dance numbers, reels and jigs and the occasional waltz. It’s joyful, happiness permeating every inch of Jefferson’s brightly colored mansion that makes the whole place shine in a way that has nothing to do with any candles or oil lamps.

Personally, Emma is happier along the edges of rooms, observing everything else that goes on around her. It’s not that she’s somehow opposed to the festivities; far from it, at fact. She easily allows herself to be talked into taking turns on the dance floor with David and Ruby even a delighted Jefferson when they ask her with a smile and, in Ruby’s case, a rather insistent and intoxicated tug towards the dance floor. She knows the steps; she knows the rules. But it is hard, sometimes, after a childhood spent largely alone, to throw herself willingly into the heart of it all. It’s intimidating, in a way. At the heart of things, it’s less overwhelming to observe, a wallflower by choice.

From her own vantage point, however, it’s impossible not to notice another soul doing the same thing - sticking to the walls and to the shadows, absorbing everything while engaging with none of it. The person in question is a man - strikingly handsome, with dark hair and sharp cheekbones that make him look a little dangerous. He’s the kind of man who should have no problem finding a dance partner, if he so desired, but he waits along the edges, the same as her. What’s even more curious is that Emma has no idea who he is. Emma isn’t fool enough to claim that she’s intimate friends with each and every person in the Circus - there’s far too many for that - but she does recognize them by sight, at least. It’s an inevitable result of living and working with people in such a tight-knit environment as the Circus. This man isn’t one of them. Curiously, she still has the feeling that he’s familiar, somehow. She can’t quite put a finger on why; it’s like a whisper in her ear, that she knows him in a way she doesn’t yet understand. 

(She sees him looking, too, when he thinks she hasn’t noticed. Maybe he feels this curious deja vu as well.)

At one point, she notices Mulan speaking briefly with the mystery man - nothing more than a few words, but enough to catch her attention.

“Who is that?” Emma asks the next time Mulan passes her by, dressed in regalia that looks more like armor than a dress. It suits her, in a way something more traditional wouldn’t have. “That man in the corner?”

“By that particularly ugly bronze bust?” Emma nods. “That’s Jefferson’s personal secretary. Killian Jones. I’m surprised you haven’t met him before - he follows Jefferson everywhere, records everything. Jefferson won’t on his own.”

Maybe that’s where Emma recognizes him from; it would make sense that he’d have been at her audition, just another face in the crowd. That must account for this odd sense of familiarity.

Mulan waits patiently as Emma turns the information over in her head, as if waiting for her to ask another question. For the life of her, she can’t imagine what that might be.

“I didn’t know that,” she finally replies. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Mulan nods. “Try and have a little fun tonight. It’s not like we’ll have another chance for this for a long while.”

“I promise I am. Even without the dancing.”

“Good.”

(There’s a little tickle at the back of her neck that says Mulan isn’t sharing the whole story, but Emma doesn’t pry further. The other woman plays her cards very close to her proverbial vest; she won’t reveal anything except exactly what she deems it necessary for Emma to know.)

As Mulan slides silently back into the crush, Emma steals another glance at the corner, but the man - Killian Jones - is gone.

Not that it matters to her. After all, they’ll likely never meet again.

(It is easy to ignore the little voice that whispers Oh, but you will.)

——— 

The circus opens on a warm June night under a new moon, and it feels like anything might happen. The tents are all set, the costumes sewn, the performers placed along each neatly lined path. All that’s missing is the audience. 

At the very center of the circus is an ornately crafted fire pit, with shoots of burnished metal curling towards the sky in imitation of the flame contained within. Over time, the heat of the fire will heat and scar the metal in its own unique way, creating an ever changing statue. Tonight, in recognition of the circus’ opening night, the bonfire will be lit for the first time at precisely midnight in a ceremony for all to see. 

Tucked into the grate beneath the fire pit, carefully warded against the flame with a series of runes, is a leather-bound book that no one but Killian knows about. The volume is the circus, in a way that he’s proud to have accomplished. Between the covers are pages and pages of plans for each and every tent, ride, and attraction, with magic carved into every line. This is the way that the circus is brought to life - the way it’s assembled and disassembled, the way it operates, the way it exists. At the back is a list of everyone employed by the circus, from Mrs. Lucas who runs the dining car of the train to the day-old twins of one of their vendors, a craftsman and his wife who sell intricate animals carved out of wood so delicately and with such life that they look as if they might begin to cavort across your palm. Each name is accompanied by a single drop of their blood - something so simple, but powerful. It binds them to the circus, protects them; it’s a safeguard, in case something should ever happen.

(Killian hates to think that there might be collateral damage in all this, but it seems inevitable. Mr. Gold and Madame Mills aren’t the types to worry about the chaos they create, as long as they get what they want. This will protect the circus and all the many lives that depend upon it.)

Most significantly, Killian creates a tricky little bit of magic to link the volume under the bonfire, right in the heart of the circus, to another in his own possession. It’s still unclear, in so many ways, exactly what this so-called competition will entail, let alone how long it will last. It seems inevitable that in order for the competition to move forward, additions and changes will need to be made, ways to demonstrate each of their respective powers. A second volume, directly mirroring the first, will allow him to add attractions as the opportunity arises. 

Killian feels somehow in-between as he wanders the grounds of the circus - not one of the performers, but not quite a normal visitor ever. He’s done more to bring this to life than anyone present knows, but it doesn’t feel like a part of him in a way he might have expected. He strolls the paths, cloaked in spells that turn everyone’s attention away from his person so he can place the tome without questioning. That’s fitting, he thinks; he’s not part of the circus in any visual way, now or previously, yet he’s made more of a mark than they’ll ever know. He’s shaped this entire spectacle from the shadows, and his work is only beginning. 

It feels like something settles into place as Killian slides the book into its nook. It’s like the whole circus was just waiting for that final piece, as if a breath has been released and this can all finally begin. Something cements in that moment; some piece of ancient magic more powerful than any rune. All that’s left to do is activate that magic with the lighting of the bonfire.

(There are already firecrackers in place to set off with each tick of the clock leading to midnight, but Killian can sense the traces of someone else’s magic lingering on each charge. It seems Miss Swan has left her mark on the fire in her own way, one that will make this a night to remember for all involved. Their work has long since begun, but they both usher in a new phase with their own mark.)

Killian stays to watch the lighting of the bonfire, still cloaked in the shadows even amongst the crowds of life around him. At a few minutes to midnight, they all assemble around the pit - every performer, every visitor, every vendor. Each and every soul. It’s easy to pick out the audience from the circus members; true to their vision, those who are part of the circus are clad in black and white and silver, alternately blending into the night and reflecting like the brightest stars. They stand stark against everyone else and the usual medley of colors, like elegant wraiths. 

Killian spots, too, Jefferson across the way, and the Frost sisters, and Madame Blue and Mr. Booth, all here to mark the occasion. They’ve participated in the dress code as well, Killian is amused to see - Jefferson in a white suit decked with tiny black stars, and the ladies in varying shades of white and silver and grey. Mr. Booth’s black suit may just be his usual wear, but the silver necktie adds a certain celebratory vibe. Killian’s lips twitch in a smile to see their little group, looking with varying levels of satisfaction (or outright bouncing glee, in Jefferson’s case) on the experience they dreamed and brought to life. It’s not necessary, really, that Killian disguise himself anymore; as Jefferson’s personal secretary, it would seem natural for him to be here to witness this. Killian has ulterior motives for maintaining the cloak, however - namely, watching his opponent, the lovely Miss Swan. 

He’s a little enthralled by her, he’ll admit. Miss Emma Swan is… not what he expected in a competitor. If pressed, Killian will admit that he expected his opposing counterpart to be someone rather like himself - some young man around his age, similarly focused, similarly discreet. Miss Swan - besides being, most obviously, a young woman instead of a young man - wields her magic with an open confidence that he hadn’t expected, at least if her audition and the few times they’ve crossed paths since on circus business are any indication. Then again, it’s not like there’s as much need to hide her magic as Killian always believed; to the public, magic isn’t real after all, and she’s just a circus illusionist. 

(She’s a born performer, is what she is, and Killian looks forward to surreptitiously attending one of her shows tonight to relive the particular thrill of watching Miss Swan in action.)

(As much as Killian tells himself they’re different, there’s something in her eyes that says that’s not quite true - the look of someone who’s been left alone for too long. Maybe they are cut from the same cloth, after all. Not that it matters in situations such as these.)

Ten seconds before midnight, the firecrackers begin setting off in bright bursts of color and pattern, causing an audible gasp of awe from the assembled audience. There are swirls of blue, shoots of red, bursts of gold, all perfectly timed to the second hand of his watch. It’s the purest expression of magic made real, and even though Killian knows to watch for the way Miss Swan’s fingers twist at her side to release each round, it still leaves him in a little bit of awe and wonder. It’s displays like these that first enthralled him to the idea of magic, all those years ago when he was still just a boy; it’s nice to reclaim that even just for a moment. 

At the crescendo, a previously unnoticed archer - a trick-shot they’d hired, who can hit the smallest targets from the greatest distance - releases a single flaming arrow. It lands dead center in the bonfire pit, just above where Killian alone knows the volume containing the circus rests, and ignites it in a chasing line of flame. It roars to beautiful life, illuminating the beautiful joy and wonder on each and every face. 

And just like that - the circus is alive.

———

The circus is a wonder, unmatched by any other.

There’s something otherworldly about it, you think as you take in the sights. There’s a stark elegance and mysticism about the venue and all its players that feels unnatural, in the best way - as if you’ve stumbled out of the real world and into a fairy court, where the very air is laced with magic and anything might happen. 

Each tent is somehow better than the last, and you wander without real purpose between each, trusting fate and your heart to lead the way. Even the winding paths, paved in silvery grey pebbles, hold their own surprises, twisting and curving past all manner of performers on pedestals in the night air. There are contortionists in silver and jugglers with patterned balls and clubs, fire swallowers and concession vendors who smile at you and living statues who move so gradually as to be barely discernible to the naked eye.

It is more than an attraction, you realize as the first rays of light peak over the horizon, illuminating the intricate metalwork of the front gate clock; it’s an experience, a wonder, something that sinks into your very soul and changes you in ways you’re not yet equipped to describe.

The circus lingers in your mind and heart, and you will never be the same again.

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 3

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1….You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online– or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly–I created the title art–LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go…

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies– or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair– you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 4200

Part Three: Delmar Hospitality

        Antha slowly raised her hands in surrender. It was the best she could do in this unforeseeable situation. Beads of sweat rolled down her chest and back. The searing chill sobered her instantly. “We—we—” She found her mouth desert-dry and unable to form a coherent sentence.

        “Well, are you trespassing or are you lost?” The silken voice demanded.

        “We’re—we’re lost.” Antha panted. A light tumble sounded in the wooded brush as Tessa’s mouth fell open with a gasp, only her teeth could be seen. She fainted.

        “Oh.” The voice sighed. Before Antha understood what was happening long cool fingers wrapped around her wrist and brought her up to stand. “Here.” Those same fingers handed her the gun. She violently shook, her nails impulsively tapping against the metal of the barrel.

        The clouds shifted intermittently, splashing eerie washes of light across the blackness. Long, ethereal white arms appeared out of the dark as the stranger pushed up his sleeves. These bodiless limbs wrapped about Tessa. Am I watching Fantasia? Antha thought—it didn’t even occur to her that she was now armed and could defend them, though she was hardly capable in her muddled state. She stepped back to see him lift her unconscious sister.

        The moonlight poured over something akin to a roman statue come-to-life, with a long column neck and limbs. It frightened Antha to see this otherworldly man peer down from his full height—his great silver-colored eyes burning amidst the night. Despite logic, she had the distinct feeling that he could see more of her than she could of him. “I presume you’ve spoken to the police?” He asked calmly.

        She patted her legs instinctually and realized her sundress had no pockets. Somewhere far, far away her cellphone was nestled in her messenger bag, in the back of Tessa’s car. She shook her head ‘no’ as she was still at a loss for words. “Well, come along then,” replied the stranger. His accent was clean; obviously he wasn’t born of this slower-lower side of the world but seemingly mimicked their colloquialisms.

        Like a white knight he led Antha from darkness and into a comfortably lit yard in the middle of the woods. The well-kept grass stretched in front of them toward a darling little house. There were candle lights in every dormer window, a white-slatted porch with rocking chairs and a sign that said “No Vacancy” to greet them. The stranger turned, “Welcome to Hollow House,” he stated neutrally, not exactly instilling hospitality. Antha clutched the gun in her arms, scanning her surroundings when she could manage to tear her eyes from him.

        Tessa looked like a beloved ragdoll, her long braids swinging peacefully with every step. The stranger held her tenderly as if an appendage of himself, her head cradled to his chest. Why couldn’t I have fainted? Why am I always the one to sort everything out? Antha thought. He carried her with ease up the porch steps and hesitated. He hovered over Tessa’s face for a moment as if he was going to plant a magical kiss that would awaken her from slumber. Then he turned to Antha, brows knitting together for a brief moment.

        “You’re twins.” He chuckled to himself as if something about that was charming. “Would you please?” He motioned to the screen door. She stood frozen in place as if the simple instruction was too much to fathom. “Antha,” he crooned, “when I take you inside, I will lay your sister down, get you cleaned up, and then we will call the authorities. I will help you sort everything out in no time.”

        Thick waves of auburn hair tucked behind his ears and one errant curl falling in his eye line drew her in. His excellent hair aside, he seemed normal enough. Given the monsters she encountered thus far, the normalcy of the house and this stranger were beyond comforting. Additionally, the fact that he held Tessa to his chest made him simply irresistible to deny.

        She shook as she reached for the screen door and held it for him, then he swooped Tessa over the threshold into a lovely foyer. A lean spindle-legged table held brochures for Hollow House Bed and Breakfast. The simple cottage layout and plate of cookies at the door all confirmed for her that she was in fact standing in a bed and breakfast. She followed slowly and watched as he laid her sister down in the Hibiscus Room, right off the foyer and overlooking the back patio. The peach tapestries, brick fireplace, and mahogany wooden furniture framed Tessa, making her nothing short of a sleeping beauty with her mane cascading across the crisp pillows.

        Antha paced backward as he turned to her, leaving the guest room door cracked open. “I assure you she is fine. How about we set this down?” He carefully approached her to take the gun but she clenched it as if she suddenly couldn’t imagine parting with it.

        She didn’t like how he filled up the foyer, frame blocking the dim ceiling light the way an oak tree does the sun. “I’m very sorry about how I approached you before. I heard you two stomping through my woods—and you alarmed me.” He said coolly, not an ounce of excitement in his eyes or face, not even a flush in his cheeks. “Tell me what happened.” When he asked she strangely felt beholden to him. She couldn’t help feeling that he was reading her mind—she knew that was a stupid thought—but something about the way those big eyes held her in place.

        “There was a fight, and, and Tessa ran and so I chased after her—we fell and you found us.” She spilled all of the highlights as if she were reading a teleprompter. The prying feeling lessened when he broke eye contact.

        “I see. Well, please come sit down, allow me to help.” His voice dripping like honey down the back of a spoon. He went to the small dining room off the foyer, pulled out a chair and politely beckoned her to sit. She wagered the risk for a moment but ultimately leaned the gun against the table—within reach—when she accepted the offered seat.

        Feeling naked without the weapon, she held herself as he explained he would bring water. He did everything he said he would and within seconds she found herself staring bewildered into a glass of tap water. Antha felt more at ease when he finally removed the gun from the table and promised to put it away. The kitchen was right off the dining room and she listened as he retreated to the phone, setting the gun down. “…two young women—yes, here at Hollow House. Yes, this is Mr. Smith… Mmm-hmm… No one is harmed. Yes, of course, I understand. Thank you.”

        Antha heard the click of the landline phone being holstered and thought about how long it had been since she had heard such a noise. Since her grandmother’s house she supposed. Her eyes continued their investigation as she waited. Trying to remind herself that she was just on-guard from the hellish night Tessa had put her through.

        The cottage was fine, everything in place. A fruit bowl on display, frills on every corner, the carpet vacuumed. He did everything he said he would, she reminded herself again as she sat on her shaking hands. She was fine. They would wait for the police. They would be fine, she convinced herself.

        He returned to the table with a plate and towel in hand. The plate was placed in front of her and then he bent with a damp cloth and pressed it to her forehead. For a moment Antha found herself quite overwhelmed, quaking in her seat, the adrenaline threatening to keep her on the run until her heart gave out.

        “I believe your story checks out Miss Antha,” he said humorously, “the police said that there was an awful scuffle at the bar out by the road. Once they’re done cleaning that up, they will come to get you two.”

        “Mr. Smith, how did you know my name?” She asked, just over-hearing his from the phone call.

“I could hear you calling to each other.” He explained. “You two created quite the ruckus out there.” He was leaning closer than Antha would have preferred. She never recalled Tessa calling out for her. She also didn’t think she told him about the bar either—stop being stupid Antha, the police told him about the bar, obviously, she chastised herself, her paranoia getting the better of her.

        After pulling the twigs from her braids, wiping the dirt from her forehead and neck he bent to one knee to clean her hands. She sipped her water and stared down at him. His hair was a bit longer than how most men would wear it now, wing-tipped behind his ears and lending to the romance of an Edwardian fashion. The long bridge of his nose and well-placed lips made him truly worth staring at, like the classical paintings in her textbooks.  When he wrapped the cloth over one of her palms his nostrils flared. “That’s a nasty scrape.”

        Antha didn’t realize she was bleeding from when she caught herself on the pavement of the parking lot. Before he sat, she observed his dark button-down shirt partially tucked into slacks; his musculature was not consistent with his occupation. This guy works out for serving cookies and delivering extra pillows, she thought and continued sipping her water. Those great nocturnal eyes never left her, even as he reached toward a bowl on the table, his eyes stayed with her.

        “Here, you must be starved,” he showed his hand to reveal a whole pomegranate. Before she could deny the fruit he tore it open between his large hands. The leathery skin shredded apart as the sanguine juice dotted his pale fingers, the table, and the plate in front of her. Antha could hear herself swallow as the little massacre happened right before her eyes. “Eat, Persephone, and never be released from my palace.” He laughed.

        “I know that myth,” she forced a scoff despite how anxious she felt. She was compelled to be still, attempting to plan her next moves. She wasn’t sure if she was still out of fear or if he was willing her to sit. There was this scratching at the back of her mind again, like a dog at the backdoor, relentlessly trying to get into her subconscious.

        “I had a feeling you would.” He replied knowingly. He leant into his palm on the table, as if fearing she would be too far from him. His offering seemed forced as if he had just read a beginner’s manual of cordiality. Nothing felt organic or friendly. Everything is fine, was what she thought, but something in her gut told her, but not safe. As if an ocean could not quench her thirst Antha finished the water and jolted upward from her seat.

        “I need more water,” she stated blatantly and made her way to the kitchen before he could offer. She felt she could breathe for a moment without those curious gray orbs on her. The kitchen was outdated, but appeared older due to the orange cast of the overhead fan light ticking away, struggling to cool the space. She clutched the sink as if it was her last anchor to the earth. Her eyes kept shooting upward to the dark window in front of her. All she could see was her reflection and the open doorway to the dining room behind her; she was trying to watch her back, making sure nothing suddenly moved.

        While the tap poured foggy water into her glass her eye caught a picture on the counter with a little old white-haired man and woman, their wrinkles holding their sunglasses in place, with Rehoboth Beach in the backdrop. “When are the cops coming?” She called weakly, trying to appear conversational and unsuspecting.

        “Realistically tomorrow morning, not long from now.” His voice carried. He was still at the dining table. Good, stay there, she thought.

        “Oh, we couldn’t trouble you for that long!” Her voice broke against her will, unsure why panic was suddenly rendering her immobile, holding white-knuckled to the sink. Why was there an empty room for Tessa? The sign said ‘no vacancy’.

        Staring at the picture, she saw it said The Smiths 2016. The water was streaming over her hand, overflowing from the already full cup. Her eyes found the reflection of the gun leant up against the ancient landline phone on the wall in the window; it wasn’t the phone itself that made the blood drain from her face, it was the severed phone line dangling from the receiver like a noose. Her heart plunged into her stomach as she pieced together the clues—they were in very real danger.

        “I insist you stay,” the rich-timbered-inflection was too close, and cold breath trickled down the back of Antha’s neck. There was no reflection of the man behind her in the window, all she could see was the terror on her face.

        Glass shards and water exploded against the sink as her hand lost her cup. Her feet left the ground as she found herself turned, and lifted to the counter, her back against the cabinetry. “There’s no possible way we can stay—you see—I, I have misplaced my wallet!” She stammered, attempting to rationalize the situation.

“I’m positive we can agree on an alternate arrangement.” He wedged himself between her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the counter, his nails growing and sinking into her lower back like meat hooks. She had never seen someone so malevolent and beautiful in equal measure as he loomed over her mouth.

        “—Please, I must take my sister home—” she begged, not knowing what was to come. “I can’t leave her—we have to go home!” Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to pull away from the stranger, but found herself latched to him with nowhere to run. His hands held strong as his lips reached the shell of her ear.

        “I wouldn’t dream of separating a pair—she will follow you shortly.” He promised. “Stay.” He told her as if commanding her soul. She found herself unable to fight, her muscles waning as if under a spell. The cold of his cheek dragged across hers as he pulled back to look over her face, his feral irises dilating, impersonal and hungry. His grin displayed a mouth-full of pearly teeth as he sunk to the floor and splayed open Antha’s legs. He hummed gluttonously when he kissed the inside of her knee. His canine teeth grew outward, revealing pristine fangs the closer he drew to her apex. This isn’t real—what is he doing? Her mind raced, her fingers searching blindly on the counter for aid. He threw one of her legs over his shoulder and Antha mustered the last of her will to kick him in the face before she could find out.

        She launched herself from the counter clumsily as the stranger recoiled, her muscles waking up from their enchantment. After snapping his broken nose back into place, he caught a second wind and lunged for her neck. Instinctively, her wrapped hand shoved the stray piece of glass from her broken water cup into the corner of his mouth. He leant against the counter, retracted his fangs and smiled through it, as if he had been pleasantly surprised.

        She snatched the gun as she darted to a nearby door in the kitchen. Her hands frantically locking the door and then searching for a light. Rickety wooden stairs bowed under her feet as she followed carefully forward, her gun-hand sliding down a railing and the other on its mission for a light switch. She could hear him groan as he pulled forth the glass and the blood spilled to the linoleum floor. “Antha, darling,” that same penetrating voice hummed above her as he gathered his bearings, “stay and fight me off—I do so enjoy this.” She could hear him gagging and spitting—she could only hope the glass shard spliced his gums.

        Finally, as if her prayers had been answered, her hand found what it had been seeking. She flipped the light switch on to find one lone dangling bulb above her. For the third time of evening, Antha’s feet left the earth and she toppled over a pile of laundry at the base of the stairs. She saw nothing to defend her, no place to hide. When she scooted back from the heap, she saw fuzzy white tufts. To her horror she recognized old Mr. Smith crumpled atop other bodies, their throats and wrists torn out, blood pooling across the floor.

        Antha covered her mouth to stop from screaming. Her tear ducts working hysterically as she distanced herself from the carnage. How did I end up here? This can’t be happening! The cautious twin thought to herself, why me? The rattle of the door knob broke through her shock as the perpetrator tried to gain access to the basement. The foundation shook as he began ramming himself into the basement door—BAM—BAM—BAM—the door and frame failing under his inhuman force, the wood splintering and the drywall crackling.

        Searching again for anything to save her, as if she was swarmed in answers that her brain could not comprehend in its panic—Antha finally noticed a cellar door. Rushing to it, she undid the inside latch and pushed upward to get out. She could hear the basement door explode, the skittle-like bounce of nails and screws as it finally gave way under his might. Throwing the door back down she jammed the handle with a nearby shim.

        Scrambling through the backyard she hid behind a tree, knowing that it was only a temporary delay for him. The stranger was much too keen for her to outrun she guessed, she definitely couldn’t fight him—perhaps hiding would give her a moment to develop an escape path back to Tessa, an element of surprise—or anything—against him. Antha’s pulse hammering, the vein in her neck thick like an anaconda as the adrenaline coursed through her. She cocked the gun blindly, praying she did it right—worst case scenario she was going to go out swinging the damn thing. How will I get to Tessa?

        Antha pressed her back into the large tree, her gun readied. Trickles of blood ran hot down her legs from his vicious claw marks. She tried to control her breath, but his fury found the cellar doors faster than she wanted. The slamming began again until one of the cellar door’s peaked upward, his elbow bending it as if mere tinfoil. Seconds later the door flew into the yard, mangled.

        “I imagined Tessa to be the runner!” He laughed as he emerged from the ground, taking his time. “Antha, come back to me.” His voice fell into a low growl as he scanned the yard. Her hands shook with resentful readiness.

        Then there was silence, abrupt and oppressive. Her ears strained but could not hear his panther like steps. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping it would aid her hearing—but she was met with complete nothingness. She couldn’t hold her breath any longer, and the faint hiss of her exhale trumpeted amongst the stifling stillness. It must have given her away as the lean, wiry fingers found her throat and ripped her up from the ground like a dandelion.

        She shoved the gun tip to his chest, ready to take out his heart. But to her unfathomable dread, the gun failed her. The dead click of an ammo less shotgun became nothing more than a toy prop in her dire moment. She did what she could to wield it like a bat, but was unsuccessful as he caught it and crushed it in his other hand. Suffocating in his grip she tried to break free.

        “You’re insufferable,” he sneered, his mouth growing its tissue back and reconstructing the damage he endured moments prior. “Did you think I would leave it loaded?” His bright steely eyes scouring over her struggling frame. “As enjoyable as this was, our time is unfortunately over. I will make you a promise.” He pulled in closer, “I will take my time with Tessa.”

        Without cue a wet, meaty sound cut through the woods. The stranger gasped, full of horror and rage as he reached to his chest. A fire iron pierced through from his back. His eyes, nose, ears, and mouth began to bleed. Antha pushed out of his grasp when he lurched forward to the ground. She was on the brink of unconsciousness as she wheezed for breath. She found Tessa was the great impaler. “I’m—not done with—you foolish girls…” He hissed like a deflating tire, his immortal sinews collapsing like a bowl of spaghetti dumped onto the lawn.

        Tessa skirted the rapid decay and pulled Antha into her arms. Stock-still they watched. They bared witness as he writhed, his porcelain skin dripped with taffy-like stretch and slid off his bones. He melted into a puddle, with nothing recognizable left except lumps of clothing and two silver eyes. Tessa reached toward the eyes, but her sister stopped her.

        All that could be heard was their panting and the fizzle of a creature dissolved. They looked to each other, wordless and beyond repair. After a moment or two they drug themselves around the side of the house and toward the driveway. Hearts still punching against their ribcages, the girls numbly followed the long-wooded drive.

        When they finally made it to the main road they found the next street lamp was another mile off. All that could be heard was the rustle of the surrounding crops. They followed the road back toward the light of civilization. Antha couldn’t shake the horror of the Smith’s being slaughtered by that thing. She shivered again, feeling the stranger’s eyes on her. She tried to push the thought down. It’s dead, she thought.

After sometime Tessa began to speak, “I woke up and saw a little old lady on the side of the bed. Her neck was covered in strawberry jam,” she paused strangely, “but I knew it wasn’t jam Ant.” She whined.

        “I know, I know.” Antha stopped to soothe her. Tessa buried her head into her sister’s neck and they held strong for barely a moment before weeping. Antha had never been so relieved to have her sister. She couldn’t believe Tessa was the one to save them. From now on she would abandon her role as the babysitter. All of her safe-keeping and methodical avoidance of danger had failed them both. It was Tessa’s wild heart that saved them.

        “I couldn’t believe you kicked him in the face.”

        “You saw that?”

        “I almost lost my shit—hey, what was he doing down there?” Tessa finally asked.

        “The femoral artery is—well and when you factor in gravity—” Antha’s analytical side kicked in but then quickly dissipated from the stress. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” She finally sighed, unable to comprehend the fact that she was almost drained by her crotch. Both of them smirked but within a breath were crying again.

        “I’m so tired.” Tessa grumbled and then called for Zoey three times, wishing she would appear to take them home.

“Doug… Doug… Doug…” Antha whispered to herself.

        Just as they thought the night would never end and their blood-stained clothes would never dry, they heard the familiar wheeze of Doug’s old Buick.

        After a deluge of crying, embracing, and the erratic retelling of the whole evening, the twins found themselves buckled in the backseat on their way to the emergency room. Tessa finally sighed when Doug stopped looking at them in his rear-view mirror. He must have mumbled to himself “…vampires?” at least a dozen times as he drove. She sidled into Antha, holding her hand with an iron-clad grip and closed her eyes. Antha couldn’t relax. Her nerves were beyond frayed and she grew uncomfortable under the weight of her sister’s weary head. Something blunt was stabbing into her backside and she shifted in her seat.

        The bright lights of the emergency room entrance burned the teary-eyed passengers. Doug pulled up and jumped out of his car, opening the door for them. “What the hell is in this car—you got rocks back here?” Antha sassed him about cleaning his Buick as she dug out the troublesome object in her seat. Tessa did the same, unbuckling herself and wriggled in discomfort.

        “I just vacuumed, like last year,” he defended, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. In the commotion of the two digging around and shuffling old coke-a-cola bottles and vintage DVDs, they suddenly ceased. A strange silence fell between them. “What is going on back here?” He stared anxiously at them.

Each twin opened a hand to find one silvery, gleaming eye.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @myraiswack @wolfpawn @plastic-heart​ @confusednerd09​

[fanficimagery]

Pull Me Closer

Summary: Imagine moving in across the street from Scotty Sire.

Words: 5.5K  Warnings: Language. I adore Kristen with all my heart, but for the sake of this imagine were just going to pretend Scotty is single.

Moving states away felt like a breath of fresh air, especially after the passing of your last living grandparent. Things were tense, even more so after the reading of the will, and the three bedroom home in California was calling your name. The front and back yard was spacious enough for your dog, and the pool and hot tub out back were perfect for you.

Before the move you had your personal belongings and some furniture you couldn't live without shipped to your new home where the house's occasional caretaker put it in the house for you, and even ordered some stuff online from a nearby warehouse that delivered directly to the house. Thankfully the caretaker put everything in their respective rooms, and even had the pool and hot tub set up for your arrival.

So pulling up in your Jeep Wrangler with the windows rolled down, you park in the driveway and stare up at the three bedroom home that is now all yours. Reaching over into the passenger seat, you rub your hand over Rocko's back- your fully grown black and gray Great Dane.

"Welcome home, Rocko. Lets go check it out."

Rocko quietly woofs as you exit your Jeep, quickly rushing around to the passenger side to open the door for your dog. He jumps out, tail wagging as he immediately sets out to sniff the entire yard. You then make your way over to the mailbox where your house key is hidden, your attention being stolen by raucous laughter from across the street. There are a group of boys, a couple of them filming as others run around with paintball guns.

"Whoa. Check out that horse!" The exclamation makes you chuckle, you grinning when you see their attention is on Rocko who's now standing at the curb and staring at the boys with a slightly wagging tail.

You whistle and gain Rocko's immediate attention. "Lets go, boy. Inside!" As you start to make your way towards the house, Rocko leaps into action and follows after you. You push the key into the lock and the door opens easily. Sighing in content, you scratch Rocko between the ears. "Home sweet home, pup."

After scoping out the neighborhood and getting a feel for it, you finally find yourself comfortable enough to jog around in order to get some sort of cardio in. The kids around the block especially love it when you jog with Rocko in tow and you soon find yourself fitting in.

And even though you've been in your new place for about a week and a half, today's the day the neighbors across the street have finally made themselves known.

You and Rocko are walking up to your mailbox when two boys jog across the street. You feel messy and gross because you'd been running around with Rocko for quite some time, but the boys are all smiles. Rocko quietly woofs in excitement and you scratch him between his cropped ears.

"Whoa," the tanned, dark haired individual muses. Only then do you realize he's got a camera in hand. "He's intimidating up close."

"Don't worry. He's a sweetheart. Rocko's just excited because you're new." Both guys seem to ease up at that, the dark haired one stepping up to Rocko and petting him, taking video.

The silver haired, red beaded guy chuckles. "Sorry about him. He's easily excited by dogs. We, uh, we live next door and figured we'd finally come over and say hi. I'm Scott."

"And I'm Todd," Todd says distractedly, leaning down to kiss Rocko before moving back at the last second, laughing.

"Y/N. And nice to finally meet you guys. I think you're the only ones I hadn't met."

Scott sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry about that. We're usually home, but our friend needed some content for his vlog so he flew us out to Vegas and-"

"And it's been a party non-stop," Todd says. "Good times."

You laugh softly. "Your friend vlogs?"

"We all do, but David's got more of a following than us."

"Oh. That's cool," you admit. "I, uh, I actually post videos too, but nothing crazy or as frequent as those famous Youtubers do."

"Oh yeah? What do you post?"

"I cover songs that I can vibe with." Todd immediately looks up, pointing the camera at you and Scott. "And I do unboxing videos of some of my fanmail. I love opening up sketchy mail."

"Look, guys," Todd says, "Scott's found his soulmate."

You snort and Scott faintly blushes, glancing at his friend and shaking his head. "Dude, shut up." Then he looks back at you, smile a little wider and a little nervous. "I sing too, but I mostly post videos of the stupid shit me and my friends get up to."

"Why do I get the feeling the shit you and your friends get up to is off the walls insane?"

"Because it is," Todd tells you. "David likes to shoot us with a paintball gun when we least expect it."

"What?"

"It's fine. We get paid, so it's all good."

You chuckle in disbelief. "If you say so. I'm going to have to look you guys up on Youtube now."

"Do it," Scott agrees. "Just look up David Dobrik. We're all tagged in his videos."

"I will." You rock back on the heels of your feet, whistling shortly to catch Rocko's attention. "Well it was good to finally meet you both. I should, uh, I need to shower and eat," you say while slowly backing up the sidewalk into your yard.

"Wait, what?" Todd says, looking up in a hurry. "That's it? We don't get a name in return to look you up on Youtube?"

You and Scott both laugh. "Just look up Halsey on twitter. She tweeted out my latest cover of her song Graveyard a couple weeks ago."

"Halsey tweeted you!" Todd practically shouts. "Shut the fuck up."

"I'm serious." You suddenly can't stop laughing at Todd's excitement, he pushing the camera into Scott's hands so he can take out his phone and get on Twitter. "And on that note," you say when you see the app open up, "I'm gonna go. I don't like seeing people hear me sing for the first time. It's awkward."

"If you ever need anything, we're right across the street," Scott says.

"Ditto. My door is always open," you return.

Telling Scott and Todd your door was always open was probably a mistake, but after the first week of Todd walking in without so much as a head's up, it quickly became the norm. Todd usually showed up, asked about your day, and then spent the rest of the time laying with Rocko. Scott, however, greeted Rocko and then spent the rest of his time with you talking about music.

And within that week, they learned you were a great cook, but couldn't bake to save your life, and unfortunately found out you walked around the house semi-nude. For some reason you were more embarrassed about Scott seeing you in a t-shirt and underwear than Todd, and then quickly realized it wasn't really a big deal to them. Well at least not to Todd, but he still took pleasure in teasing you and giggling like a little girl when Scott would get defensive on your behalf.

And after the boys realized your house was a no-pants zone more often than not, Todd found it okay to strip down to his briefs when he needed a nap, Scott sometimes doing the same after sheepishly smiling and cuddling up with Rocko.

          - X - X - X - X - X -

You're unloading box after box in your driveway, your fan mail having arrived at your new address. Several of the boxes are rather heavy and you're unsure about how exactly you're going to get them inside, but a voice shouting from across the street makes you sigh in relief.

"Need some help?"

You turn around, shielding the sun from your eyes, and wave over Scott. "Yes, please!"

Scott jogs across the street, Todd following at a slower place with three other guys. But from binge watching numerous Youtube videos, you realize it's David, Zane, and Heath.

When Scott gets a glimpse at all the boxes up close, he grins. "Went a bit crazy shopping online, did you?"

"No." You huff a laugh. "It's mail from all my subscribers."

"Mail?" Todd asks, slinging an arm around your shoulders in greeting and pulling you into his side. "Does that mean you're going to make an unboxing video soon?"

"Yeah. Today."

"Sweet. I'm sticking around for that." You shrug, chuckling as Scott rolls his eyes. "By the way, meet our other friends. This is David, Heath, and Zane. Boys, this is Y/N."

"Oh hey! You're the singer," David muses, camera in hand. "Is this cool?" He then quickly asks, gesturing to his camera. "You're really good, by the way."

"Thank you and yes." You blush and Todd pinches your cheeks as he mockingly coos at you. He pinches a little too hard and you retaliate by shoving him off of you and punching him as his friends laugh. Scott then brings you into his side when Todd starts poking at you and you practically melt against him. "I've recently starting watching your guys' videos and can I just say that y'all are fuckin' wild?! Holy shit!"

"Ooh, girl," Heath then says. "That cover you did on Sam Smith's Stay With Me gave me the chills. My girlfriend Mariah is in love with your voice."

"I really liked Bad Liar by Imagine Dragons," Todd grins.

You laugh. "You guys really did go through my videos, huh."

"Duh." David giggles. "Scott and Todd couldn't shut up about you, so we had to look you up."

"Oh god."

"Mhm," Zane hums, cracking up a moment later when he can't take himself seriously. "Is it true our boys walked in on you in your underwear?"

"Jesus Christ. Did you guys really have to tell them that?"

Scott squeezes your shoulders. "Don't blame me. That was all Toddy."

Rolling your eyes, you let the smile continue to grace your lips to let the guys know you're not really upset about it. "To be fair, it was a Calvin Klein sports bra and boy short underwear. I also had a flannel shirt on, but it was left unbuttoned, and I never know when Todd is just going to barge in. It really wasn't that big of a deal. I was more startled than anything else."

"So let me get this straight," Zane says, glancing between you and Todd. "Todd saw you practically naked and he didn't try to hump you?"

You snort and then shake your head. "Nope."

"Baby!" Heath then coos at Todd, he and Zane sandwiching their friend in a hug. "You're growing up." You all laugh, David capturing it all on his camera.

"Well if you four are done," Scott says, "Y/N needed our help. Let's get this inside for her."

David's the only one who doesn't help, he being reluctant to put down his camera. You understand, even if his friends give him grief for it. "By the way, guys, don't mind Rocko. He's a gentle giant."

"Rocko?" Heath wonders.

David opens the door for all of you, he cursing quite loudly as Rocko lets out the deepest woof in his arsenal. You, Scott, and Todd all laugh.

"Rocko, my man." Todd enters, setting down his box before being distracted by your dog.

"I swear Todd only visits to eat my food or play with Rocko," you say.

When the guys all notice your set up in the living room and find out you do unboxing videos of your fan mail, they all ask to stick around. You don't mind the company, so you let them, even letting David continue to video for some content he can use in his own vlog.

Once everyone is settled, it's only you, Scott, and Zane in the actual shot. Heath and David sit off the sides, but close enough to be caught in frame should they want to be, and Todd sits behind the camera as he lounges with Rocko who's resting his head on the boy.

Your fan mail is nothing spectacular, the items ranging from band tees to posters to fan art of you and Rocko. And after each box is opened, you make sure to thank the person who sent it by giving them a shout-out. There are also boxes of snacks, which Heath and Zane seem really excited for, and you treat them to your favorites. There are some specialty candy that's only made in Texas that you make the boys all eat, but only Scott seems fond of the cherry flavored gummies that are covered in chili powder. The other snacks from Texas come from a store named Buc-ee's, and David, Heath, and Zane become quite fond of the Beaver Nuggets.

More mail is opened and you laugh as you open several packages just meant for Rocko- toys, treats, and even shirts made specifically for your Great Dane.

"We are seriously going to have to plan a trip to Texas just for Beaver Nuggets," David says, popping yet another caramel-coated, crunchy puff corn into his mouth.

"See. They're good, right?"

"Mhm." He eats a few more before asking, "So, Y/N, what's the weirdest thing you've ever received?"

You immediately blush and the guys all perk up. "Oh this is gonna be good," Todd muses.

"Fuck you." The guys all laugh and you sigh when you realize they're awaiting an answer. "Just.. hold on." You shoot a quick outro clip, thanking everyone for the mail and that you'd have a new song cover coming soon. Just as you're saying goodbye, the boys all squeeze in and wave at the camera. Laughing, you tell Todd to cut the camera off and then tell them what they want to hear. "So the weirdest thing I received was a box full of lingerie and sex toys."

"WHAT?!" Heath nearly shouts, Zane giggling at his side.

"And what's weird is that guy had my size down perfectly. Like if I had tried the lingerie on, it'd have fit."

Scott quirks an eyebrow at you. "If?"

"Yeah. There we no tags on the underwear and all the sex toys were out of their packaging. It was super sketchy!"

The guys all laugh at your grossed out expression. David leans forward, camera nearly in your face. "Now I think the question is, is would you have kept the sex toys had they been in their proper packaging?"

The room goes oddly silent. "Well.."

"You hesitated!" Todd screams, cackling.

You grab a pillow, chunking it at him. "A girl has her needs, you dick! But still, I don't know. Sex toys from a fan is still super weird."

"Baby," Heath coos, "lingerie from a fan is weird. Sex toys is crossing a line."

You nod in agreement and eventually get up to head to the kitchen. The boys all follow as you start bringing out food to eat, and Zane's whistle of appreciation catches your attention.

He's looking out into the back yard, David and Heath by his side. "No offense," Zane starts, "but how are you affording a place like this?"

You chuckle as you scoop some ice cream into a bowl. "It's been in the family for quite a while. I actually inherited it last month when my grandfather passed." The guys go quiet and you glance at them, smiling as they suddenly seem uneasy. "It's okay. My grandfather lived here up until his wife passed away. He moved closer to his family where he then proceeded to lose both his children. When my mom died, I was his only grandchild who continued to have anything to do with him and even moved him in with me when he got sick. I didn't even know this place existed until the reading of the will where he left me everything- this house and his money."

"Damn. I bet everyone else was pissed," Heath says.

"Yep. Hence the reason I'm here now. I got tired of listening to them belittle me, so I packed up myself and Rocko, and here we are."

"Well they sound like assholes," David tells you. "And I, for one, am glad you're here. Scotty is too."

"Dude."

Scott's sudden look of disbelief at his friend sends you into a bout of laughter, you holding your hands up when he nudges you in retaliation. Scott purses his lips to keep from laughing and you quickly wink at him before picking up your bowl of ice cream and moving on.

"Don't pretend I can't hear you," you say while hip checking Zane out of the doorway from where he was muttering something to Todd. "I saw the dry ice video. You guys are not fucking up my pool."

"No, but Y/N, just hear us out..!"

Weeks soon turned into months and you can't believe how much Scott and Todd have changed your life. Scott was a little tamer than Todd, which is probably why you were more drawn to him, but the boys were still wild. You had thought you kept the teeny tiny crush you developed on Scott under wraps pretty good, but when you were eventually introduced to the rest of their friends, Todd made sure the guys knew you were off limits less they wanted to step on Scott's toes. And because you were clearly holding out for their friend.

The girls were just stoked to have another female in the group, and you found yourself being asked on shopping trips and to attend hang out sessions more times than you ever were asked back in your hometown.

You went out with the entire group a total of two times when Scott asked you and you found they were just as crazy as they were in their videos. The first time you kept yourself limited to two drinks in order not to get out of hand, but the second time you were encouraged to let loose. Needless to say, your new friends saw you being a hot mess and you knew you'd never live it down. You had become Zane's favorite drinking buddy, right next to Heath.

But tonight is a night of peace and quiet, you staying in with Rocko and quietly celebrating your birthdays. And since you're not that fond of cake, you had found a bakery that was dedicated to making cakes for pets and ordered one for Rocko. Then once the sun has gone down, you get the cake out of the refrigerator and place four sparklers around the cake. You quickly tug a party hat on over your head and manage to get one on Rocko without him pawing it off, and then light the sparklers before grabbing a bottle of wine in your other hand. After quickly posing for a picture, you blow out the sparklers, take them out, and let Rocko devour his cake.

Once you've got yourself a glass of wine poured and have made yourself comfortable on the couch with some of your favorite movies queued up, you post the picture to your Instagram with the caption: Happy birthday to us! For the last four years, I've been honored to share my birthday with Rocko. All I need for this special day is the love of my fur baby.

Along with the picture of you and Rocko, and his cake, you post another picture with it that's of Rocko laying his head on your lap. After posting, you set your phone aside and settle in to watch movies.

           - X - X - X - X - X -

You're in the middle of Jeepers Creepers when your doorbell rings, you startling and then shushing Rocko when you startled him as well. Pressing pause on your movie, you get up to go answer the door. And when you swing it open, you're met with Scott's beaming smile and two cupcakes in hand- one cupcake with a lit candle shoved in it and the other with a dog treat shoved in it.

"Scotty," you chuckle, immediately melting and leaning bashfully against your door.

"Happy birthday, Y/N." He then leans his head in through the doorway, saying, "Happy birthday, Rocko!", to which Rocko woofs in response.

"What are you doing? I thought you were filming at David's tonight?"

"My bit was over with about ten minutes after I had gotten there," he says. "Now come on. Make a wish and blow out your candle."

You can't stop smiling, but you do as you're told. You stare at the flickering flame, make a wish, and then blow it out. Scott mock cheers. "Thank you. I've got beer in the fridge and Jeepers Creepers on TV if you want to stick around."

"Sounds like a plan."

After gesturing him inside, you huff a quiet laugh as he readily kicks off his shoes. As you head for the kitchen, you hear him call out to Rocko and feed your dog his own treat. You then return with a beer for Scott and another glass of wine for yourself, and take a seat on the other side of Rocko since he had snuggled up to Scott himself.

Ten minutes into the movie, you can't help but look at Scott again. He meets your gaze and grins, light from the TV reflecting off his nose ring. "I'm really glad you came, Scotty."

"Yeah? Me too."

Nearing the end of Jeepers Creepers 2, you can't help but take a quick picture of Scott and Rocko as they sleep on the couch. You have no idea how Scott is able to take so much of Rocko's weight on his arm, but he does and he looks quite adorable.

The picture gets posted straight away with the caption: I take back my earlier statement. All I need on this special day are my two favorite boys [heart eyes emoji] #WeakInTheKnees

You're floating in the middle of your pool, Rocko lounging on his own float not too far away as music fills the back yard from a portable speaker sitting on a nearby table. Your hands lazily sweep through the water at your sides to keep your float moving, and your eyes flutter open at the sound of a cat-calling whistle.

David stands at the edge of your pool, camera in hand and pointed directly at you with Jeff and Todd at his sides. Raising your hand, you flip off David's camera and then laugh when you hear Jeff say, "Man, Nerf is never allowed here. He'd be so jealous of Rocko's life."

"One of these days, Wittek, I'm gonna kidnap your dog and hold him hostage for a couple days. He ain't ever gonna wanna go back home to you."

"Keep dreaming, Y/L/N."

Todd suddenly whoops as he strips off his shirt, jumping into the pool a moment later. David laughs and when Todd doesn't immediately resurface, dread fills your stomach. David is still giggling and before you can say anything, you're yelping as your float is upended and you're rolling into the water.

Resurfacing and spluttering on water, you splash Todd's laughing face. "You're a dick, Toddy."

"You love me."

"Fuck off."

"Well not as much as you love Scotty."

David and Jeff laugh, and you splash him again. "Will you stop saying I'm in love with him?"

"Why? It's true. You're both just too goddamn oblivious to notice it."

"Oh I notice it," you say as you continue to tread water. "We're just- we can't escape the tip-toeing stage."

"Well escape it," Jeff says. "The sexual tension is killing us."

"God I hate you guys sometimes." Swimming over to the edge of the pool, you accept Jeff's helping hand. Then sitting on the ledge and accepting the towel David passes over, you ask, "So what's up?"

"Scotty's birthday is coming up. We need ideas," Todd says. He swims over, pulling himself out of the water and sitting next to you.

"Well I would offer up my pool, but I've seen how out of hand your parties tend to get. I don't want you to break my house," you say, chuckling.

David opens his mouth to deny the statement, but then shrugs and giggles. "Yeah."

You take a moment to think about it, clicking your tongue on the roof of your mouth. "What are you guys doing for music?"

"Not sure yet. Shouldn't be too hard to find a decent DJ."

"I think I might know someone. Someone pass me my phone." Jeff looks around until he spots it, grabbing it and giving it to you. You bring up your text messages, shooting off a series of texts back to back. "I'm not sure they'll agree, but if they do-"

"Who's they?" David asks.

"Some friends I knew from before they blew up," you say. Your phone dings and you read the texts coming through, smiling. "So my friends are actually in town for a few weeks. They're down to DJ and perform a bit of live music if you want them."

"Well who are they?" Todd wonders.

"If I tell you, not a word of this to anyone. Clear?" All three boys nod. "I know them as Alex and Drew, but they're more famously known as the Chainsmokers."

"Shut the fuck up," David immediately blurts. Todd and Jeff laugh. "Are you serious right now?"

"Yeah." You pull up the texts, showing them to your friends. "They're down to party. They like to surprise people so they'll probably wear masks or something and play some remixes. Then when things really get going, they'll go live."

"Holy shit." Todd is still laughing. "This party is gonna be dope!"

"Now I'm kind of jealous," Jeff chuckles. "Why couldn't you be my neighbor first?"

You scoop up some water in your hand and fling it over your shoulder. "Shut up." Then looking back at David and Todd, you say, "They'll need a stage to set up their shit. Is that do-able?"

"Uh yeah!" David nods.

"Cool. I'll help you plan some more later, but now I need some ideas. What is a good birthday present?"

"Sex."

"David!" Todd and Jeff laugh, and you attempt to splash water at David. He easily sidesteps it. "I'm serious"

Todd smiles. "Honestly? Sing for him. You know he's been wanting to hear you sing live instead of watching your videos."

"Ugh. I rather seduce him." David high fives you and you laugh directly into his camera. "If you put that in the vlog, I'm gonna drown you, Dobrik."

A week and a half later, it's Scott's birthday. Todd has managed to keep him busy all day, but not after you walked across the street to deliver him a birthday cupcake. Scott had beamed when he saw you, and then hugged you and pressed a kiss to your temple as Todd cooed from around the corner.

You had then proceeded to set up all day, laughing at everyone's reactions when Alex and Drew showed up to set up their area with turntables, lights, fog machines, and a few confetti cannons. You only expected some lights and music, so you thanked them profusely for going all out to which they assured you only the best for the guy who apparently held a special place in your heart. You had blushed that they picked up on that and then sighed when David, Natalie, and Zane overheard and continued to tease you throughout the entire day.

You got ready with all the girls at David's and then arrived at the small warehouse where the party was to take place. Alex and Drew wore light-up masks to conceal their identity until later in the party, and the guests started to show up by the carload.

Scott's started texting you about ten minutes ago, skeptical of Todd's motives and vague answers of where they were driving to. You had anticipated that, so you took a few selfies at your house and at David's beforehand to send to him so he wouldn't suspect you were in on anything. It worked.

You get anxious when you realize Scott and Todd have finally arrived, and the whole crowd of guests go silent. As planned, Todd enters first because there was no way Scott was going to when Todd didn't answer his questions, so it's only after Todd ducks out of the way do the lights flick on and everyone shouts Surprise!

Confetti rains down, and horns and sirens blare. Scott is beaming, hugging all his friends who are the front of the group. When he gets to you, he points an accusing finger in your face before wrapping you up in a hug. You laugh and squeeze your arms around his waist until he lets you go.

You're about to hang back as everyone crowds him, but he grabs your hand and the smile he flashes you has your stomach turning. He squeezes your hand and tugs you closer to his side, and you get the feeling that he doesn't want you to wander off too far from him.

The music is a hit with the crowd, as you expected, and Scott seems to be having a good time. The alcohol is flowing, David is directing bits here and there for the vlog, and everyone is having a good time on the dance floor. But soon enough a cake is being wheeled out and the entire crowd is singing happy birthday. Scott is bashful through the whole thing, he blowing out the candles and dodging the first handful of cake that Todd attempts to smash in his face.

"Alright, alright, alright," Alex says from behind his mask. "You guys throw an insane party, but let's kick things up a notch." The crowd cheers as horns blare over the speakers, but you can see the confusion in numerous faces. The masks finally come off and the crowd erupts louder. Scott's eyes widen and he looks at you in surprise. "We are the Chainsmokers and thank you guys for coming out to Scotty's birthday bash."

The music restarts, fog and confetti blasting as the music comes back on.

"Who the fuck got the Chainsmokers?" Scotty asks.

Everyone looks at you and you shrug. "They're friends of mine. I cashed in a favor."

Scott's eyes sparkle. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, babe. The night is still young."

           - X - X - X - X - X -

The crowd is still hyped an hour after Alex and Drew had lifted off their masks, and then they're even more hyped when they realize the Chainsmokers are performing live. You, Scotty, David, Toddy, Natalie, Jeff, Heath, Zane, and Mariah are up on stage, and when the song switches to something a little slower Toddy looks at you expectantly. You wink, but make no move as your friend starts to perform the beginning of their hit song Closer. You can see Mariah lip syncing to Heath and you move to the beat next to Scotty, making him dance with you along to the lyrics. He obliges you, chuckling in amusement, and then pulling you closer to him when the beat drops.

Moments later, a microphone is pressed into your hand and you fight off a smirk when you see Scott's eyes widen as you bring the microphone up to your mouth, leading him towards the middle of the stage. "You look as good as the day I met you. I forgot just why I left you; I was insane."

Todd and Zane scream off to the side, holding onto one another. David records the entire thing and you can see your friends from the corner of your eyes as they get hyped up over you serenading Scotty.

"So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover that I know you can't afford. Bite that tattoo on your shoulder." You mock bite at his shoulder and Scott laughs. "Pull the sheets right off the corner of the mattress that you stole from your roommate back in Boulder. We ain't ever getting older."

The beat drops and you're all set to start dancing, but Scotty surprises you. He grabs you by the back of your neck, reels you in, and presses his mouth against yours. Your friends, plus the crowd who you hardly even know, all erupt louder in excitement. Your left hand grasps onto his hip, the other still gripping tight to the microphone. Lights are flashing, confetti is raining down, and you pull back from Scotty to see his bright eyes shining down on you.

Heart pumping furiously, you bring the microphone back up to your mouth to sing, "We ain't ever getting older!" The beat drops yet again and this time it's you who brings him down into a kiss.

Scotty laughing against your mouth sends you into a fit of giggles, and when you eventually pull apart because of all the jostling your friends are doing, he keeps you close enough to mutter, "Best birthday ever," in your ear.