#the librarian id been talking to about it was gone and the other open desk had a line and thinking about doing it

[readymades2002]

buzz library embarrassment.......finally got the courage to go for the first time since moving and did not anticipate that this would be an issue but my card expired and i did not have any proof of address so i could not check anything out. humiliating.............

[dollslayer]

By Its Cover

Dark!Librarian!Steve Rogers x Shy!Reader, College AU

Summary: Your late nights at the university library spark a chain of events. Will they lead to your undoing? To anyone else's?

W/C: 8,890 (oops, sorry)

Warnings: DARK themes, NO MINORS, stalking, murder, minor character death, smut, angst, unprotected sex, oral sex, alcohol consumption, swearing

A/N: FINALLY, I wrote this for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's 2 Years of Darkness challenge! This fic kicked my ass but after some months I'm so excited about it! This is my first truly dark fic so please don't read if any of these topics upset you but I do want to make a note that the sex is consensual. If I missed any warnings please DM me immediately and I will add them. Reblog/comment if you liked it! Maybe even check out some of my other fics 👀 Cheers!

Main Masterlist

You stumbled slightly on the uneven pavement as you made the final steps towards the graduate school library. It was always so much quieter than the undergrad library and at this hour there’d be a good chance it was just you and the poor person stuck working the overnight help desk. You didn’t mind that though, you were never an overly sociable person and you preferred to work alone anyways.

You swiped your student ID through the sensor and the little green light granted you entry as you opened the door. Looking around there wasn’t even someone at the desk, just the sound of the always-on A/C rattling the leaves of the fake plants in the lobby.

You moved to put your ID away when it slipped from your fingers and plapped onto the floor, your own face staring back up to you from the plastic. You sighed and swung your bag further back over your shoulder as you bent to pick it up when a pair of legs edged their way into your vision. Caught off guard by the man attached to them, you watched him bend to pick up the piece of plastic.

You both straightened back up to your full heights and you found yourself looking up at him. He had clear blue eyes and sandy blond hair that was swept back. He looked like he could be a model, he was so handsome and you felt like a deer in headlights.

You realized that he had your ID in his hand and was waiting patiently for you to take it. You smiled awkwardly and took it from him. He looked back to your card and read your name out loud and snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Thank you” you said more in surprise than gratitude “Sorry, I just, I could’ve sworn no one was here you came out of nowhere” You laughed nervously, hoping to hide your embarrassment. You were never good with talking to people and once a situation got awkward you just got yourself deeper in it.

“I was just coming around the corner when I noticed you dropped your ID. I actually work the late shift at the desk. Serves me right for applying last minute for work through the university, right?” He asked with a small laugh.

“Late night cram session? You look like your back’s about to snap from holding all those books” He pointed to your bag, the stitches of it’s straps were frayed and had been sewn over a couple of times.

“Yeah, I like coming here late, hardly anyone’s here, I don’t have to deal with people and I can just focus” You explained

“Right, well, sorry to keep you. If you need anything I’m Steve, and I’ll be bored out of my mind at the desk” he smirked and walked back towards reception.

You turned down the hall and thought how strange it was that you’d never seen him here before. It was the middle of the semester so he couldn’t have just started but you were in here all the time and you’d never run into him once. You brushed the thought off and continued on your way.

____

Over the next few weeks you and Steve developed a routine. You’d come in around 10 or 11, you’d stop at the desk and chat a bit and then you’d head up to your spot on the second floor to study. Occasionally Steve would see you when he returned books and you’d joke around a bit before he’d leave you to your work. You were building a good rapport with each other and he was pleased.

Sometimes he’d been too shy to approach you. It made him feel like the scrawny, helpless kid he was before the growth spurt. Beautiful girls like you never looked twice at him but he knows that you’re different, he knows that if you had met him then that you’d never treat him like those girls did. He knows that in time you two could really have something special.

Steve understood that building a relationship with you would take time and balance. He didn’t want to seem too eager but ever since he saw you he knew he’d do anything to just talk to you.

It started some months ago when he was visiting Bucky on campus. They had been hanging out in the quad right by a group of buildings when you tripped on the pavement and your books fell at his feet. He helped you up and even collected your books for you but you were too flustered and embarrassed to meet his eye. You eked out a thank you and scurried into the graduate library.

That moment sparked a blooming obsession within him. The following night he was still in town but he went out without Bucky and staked out where he’d been the previous night and watched you go to the library at the same time you had. The next two nights he did this and quickly pieced together your nightly routine.

Within a month's time he was set to transfer for the next semester and when he did he got a job working night shifts at the library. Bucky had asked him why on Earth he’d want that and Steve had shrugged him off, claiming that he wanted to be paid and didn’t want to deal with anyone. Seemed like a good enough reason to anyone else.

And so that’s how Steve found himself invading your personal space to hand you your ID. He enjoyed the way you trembled slightly in surprise. You looked so small next to him, looking up at him. He nearly forgot what he was going to say, feeling suddenly shy himself. You were so close to him and you were just as beautiful as he remembered.

Take it slow, he reminded himself.

____

Your apartment door slammed behind you as you stormed out of the building. You left in only what you were wearing which was a light hoodie and some leggings. You had thought to grab your book bag before you left and it kept knocking into your side with each angry step you took. Tears streaked your face but you tried your best to brush them off and continued on your brisk walk to the library.

You and your boyfriend had gotten into a fight and things got heated pretty fast, they always did with Sean. You had confronted Sean about being gone so often and so late, you’d missed him and wanted to spend time with you. That’s when he started getting defensive and turning your late nights at the library right around on you.

Things escalated to shouting and Sean had gotten so angry that he’d knocked over a pile of your books from the table. It had scared you and that’s when you left. You knew that you’d be getting nowhere with him when he was so angry. You wanted to be alone and needed a distraction so you grabbed your bag and headed for the library.

You secretly hoped Steve was working, it’d be nice to see a friendly face. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have the tiniest crush on him. He’s handsome and funny and kind and he always knows when to give you space. You wish you’d met him at a different point in your life, you could really see yourself with him in another timeline. Maybe it was just easier to think that having just had a fight with Sean.

You swiped your card and waited patiently for the door to open. You could tell Steve had already spotted you and was looking at you as you passed through the glass doors. He was smiling his same boyish charm smile that made you feel even shier than you already were. You must’ve looked a mess but it was comforting to see him there waiting for you.

“There she is,” Steve said with a smile as he got up from his chair to greet you. His face immediately fell though as he took in the tracks of your tears and your puffy eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Steve looked upset and angry for you. You were touched, but you’d rather leave it.

“I’d rather not talk about it, if it’s okay. It’s nice to see you though, Steve. How’s your night?”

Steve’s jaw ticked but he swallowed and nodded and you were grateful he didn’t push it further.

“Uneventful as usual, it’s good to see you too, doll.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the nickname. If you were on better terms with Sean you’d feel bad but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but giggle.

You said your goodbye to Steve and made your way to the second floor to study.

Hours passed and you had your nose buried in a book when you felt a sudden presence. You looked up slowly behind you and shrieked when you found Steve just inches from you. He held his hands out defensively and tried to catch your breathing.

“Steve, oh my God, I didn’t see you there, you scared me!” You laughed as you caught your breath.

“Yeah, sorry, I uh, have a habit of doing that.” He said as he ducked his head sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. Was he blushing? Why did he look nervous?

“I, um. I was uh, I was hoping to maybe ah, ask you something, actually.” Steve swallowed thickly. He is nervous. You smiled at him and motioned for him to go on.

“I was thinking… maybe, when you’re free if um, would you maybe want to go to dinner? With me?” He stammered out.

You smiled and felt heat flood your cheeks all over again, Steve was gorgeous and you were flattered that someone like him would want to go out with you. Just as quickly as that flattery came dread had instantly replaced it. You had a boyfriend, you couldn’t do that to Sean. Oh God, now I have to turn him down. What if he hates me?

“Wow… I uh, Steve,” you started, “I’m. You’re so sweet, I don’t know what to say. But, I have a boyfriend, I’m really sorry”

“But- but don’t think I wouldn’t say yes, if I could. You’re such a nice guy and I’m really happy for our friendship. I hope this doesn’t make things weird between us, I’m. I’m sorry,” You quickly led up with. You felt so awkward and bad that you had to turn him down.

Steve’s jaw ticked and he looked away. A blush of embarrassment had made its way up his neck and into his cheeks. His fists clenched at his sides and he took a deep breath.

“It’s… It’s fine, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I don’t want things to be weird between us either. You know what? Why don’t we just forget the whole thing? Sorry again.” He finished with a tight lipped smile

You sent an uneasy smile back and nodded.

“Of course, no damage done, Steve.”

With that he left you and you went back to your book. You tried not to overthink the entire situation but couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable.

____

“Boyfriend” the word echoed in his head on a never ending loop with deafening reverb. He nodded curtly at you and smiled. You had your awkward exchange of apologies and excuses. Wordlessly, he made his way back to the information desk. He felt angry but also humiliated, he had spent at least a week building himself up to say something to you and you just turned him down so wholly?

He saw the way you looked at him, the way you laughed at his jokes. Steve knew that he meant more to you than you were letting on. There was attraction there, you were just in denial because you had a boyfriend.

Who even was this schmuck? You couldn’t have liked him that much because if you did then you would’ve mentioned him before but you hadn’t. If you really loved your boyfriend then you wouldn’t have smiled at Steve the way you did or stopped to say hello every night. He needed to see for himself whom exactly it was that was so undeserving of your attention.

Steve checked the cameras and saw that you were packing up your things. He had maybe a few minutes to gather his own things and wait for you. There was someone else coming to cover the library in 20 minutes, it would be fine if he left it alone until then. He decided to make himself scarce from the desk so you wouldn’t have to see him again before you left and you wouldn’t notice he’d be following you.

Waiting for the sound of the double doors to click shut he turned the corner and waited for just a minute. He slunk down the mainways of campus towards the student apartments and stopped just 20 yards away from you up against a wall. You looked so cold all alone in the dark as you buzzed in one of the numbers.

“1B, what the fuck could you possibly want at this hour?” a gruff voice answered over the comm.

“Baby, it’s me, sorry I forgot my keys but you weren’t responding to my texts so” You trailed off as you shivered in the night. No reply came, just the buzzer sounding off. You hurried inside and Steve tried his best to scope out external windows.

Finally the light came on in one of them and to his luck the blinds were mostly open. Through the vertical slats he could make out your entrance and an impeding figure from the hall. It was him, the boyfriend. The guy that was apparently so much better than Steve.

He saw your body language was tense and you opened your mouth to speak but before you could get a word in, your boyfriend was grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you. You looked surprised maybe, but you just let him grab you like that. You just fucking let him.

He watched from his spot against a pillar from the building across the walkway. He clenched his jaw and tried to control his breathing watching this guy, this boy manhandle you like you weren’t something special, something precious. He was disgusted but he couldn’t look away as your clothes were shirked off and you two fucked right there on the couch.

He couldn’t bring himself to watch anymore and stormed off. As he walked back to his place a plan began to form in the back of his mind.

____

Things with Sean were smoothed over. You didn’t really talk, so much as he just fucked you before you could even talk about it. He had kissed you on the cheek after and said he was sorry. So you figured that he was. You didn’t really feel like pushing it anyways.

You made for the library once again, anticipating a long night ahead of you with midterms around the corner.

You let out a shriek as you realized someone was standing over you. Steve was hovering right above you, looking even taller than he already was. You pushed your chair back to get some distance between yourself and him while you caught your breath from the momentary scare.

“Steve, I uh, sorry I didn’t hear you coming, again.”

He leaned himself against the edge of the table and crossed his arms. How had you not realized he was so muscular before? You flushed and scolded yourself for thinking about him like that. You had a boyfriend and Steve was just the nice guy at the library.

He ducked his head shyly and waved your apology off.

“Sorry, guess I’m just sneaky.” He chuckled in amusement but the feeling wasn’t mutual, “I was just up here returning some books when I realized I missed you coming in, thought I’d come say hi.”

“Right,” you replied, “Guess we just missed each other. How’s the desk tonight?”

“Bored to tears as usual, just glad you’re here tonight”

Steve winked at you and you felt your cheeks get hot again and you looked away with a small laugh.

“You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

“Ah that’s not true.” He paused, “I get nervous all the time around pretty girls like you”

You were really in it now. Your cheeks heated instantly and you had to look away from him again. For someone that just got rejected he doesn’t stay down for long. How the hell were you going to talk your way out of this one? He knows you have a boyfriend, why would he say that?

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.” Oh, thank God.

He begins to walk back to his cart before spinning on his heel one last time.

“Hey, I forgot to ask. You’re pretty good with art history, right?”

You nod cautiously, afraid that you know where this is going.

“Well, as of right now I’ve got a C. I was wondering if you’d be willing to meet on one of my nights off here and help me out?”

“O-oh. Yeah, of course. No problem. I’m sure Sean wouldn’t mind.”

You were too nice for your own good, saying yes before really thinking it all through. You only realized you had after the words left your mouth so you mentioned Sean to save yourself a bit.

Steve’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled at you.

“Awesome, you’re the best. Maybe we can get together at that cafe on 3rd next Tuesday around noon?”

“Of course, I’ll be there” You confirm.

____

Tuesday couldn’t come soon enough for Steve. He didn’t need any help in art history, he was averaging about an 87, actually. But when you turned him down he knew he had to find another way to get closer to you and he knew that you’d say yes out of pressure.

All in all things were going pretty well for Steve. Despite your shy nature he’d managed to get closer to you much quicker than he expected. He loved watching you get flustered whenever he was close, finding it hard not to get flustered himself. He was impatient for things to move forward but he knew it would all pan out. There was only one wrench in the plan; your boyfriend Sean.

The other night when Steve had followed you home and witnessed Sean manhandle you in your apartment he began thinking of how to remove him from the picture. Steve did his research on Sean and found it suspicious he couldn’t find anything on him. Usually after a little digging you can find something off about anyone, but not him. Steve knew it would take a little more effort, but for you he’d make it.

So that’s how Steve wound up spending his night off in the corner of the dive bar that was just off campus. Off campus enough that you’d need to drive there. He had tailed Sean’s Jeep there after his club soccer game in hopes of finding something he could actually use to justify getting rid of him for you. He groused as he pulled into the parking garage across the street and pocketed his parking stub. He waited a few beats and watched Sean leave his car.

He slinked in the door and grabbed a dimly lit corner booth. The residue of whatever cleaner this place used was causing his forearms to stick to the table at his booth and the air stunk of vape smoke. He was surrounded by other 20-somethings, awkward Tinder hookups and frat bros meeting up to blow off steam.

On the opposite side of the room he spotted Sean, watched him as he approached the bar for another pint. He’d followed him here in hopes of getting some sort of information on him that he could use. After an hour of nursing one beer and absolutely nothing happening with Sean Steve had been ready to give up.

Just as he was getting ready to down the rest of his drink the door had opened and in walked a girl around his age. She looked nervous but excited as she looked around the place. She nearly squealed as she rushed over when she found who she was looking for. A smile slowly crawled across Steve’s face as the girl rushed into Sean’s arms and embraced him with a kiss. This is exactly what Steve needed to get him out of the picture.

Steve discreetly took out his phone and snapped a few photos, even got a video of them kissing again. He figured this would be enough to blackmail Sean into leaving you. Getting what he needed, he grabbed his jacket and left the bar. He felt light as a feather walking home, his plan was finally setting into motion and it wouldn’t be long until you were together.

Tuesday had finally come and Steve’s good mood only carried over. He practically skipped to the coffee shop you two had agreed to meet at. He grabbed a table and waited for you. When he saw you open the door he was grinning ear to ear but his expression quickly changed taking in your appearance. You looked exhausted, like you’d been crying again. This wouldn’t do.

“What’s wrong? Is it your boyfriend again?” Steve asked.

You nodded silently and set down your bag with a huff.

“He’s just been out really late lately, I feel like he’s never home. Then again I’m always out late.”

“Well I’m glad you’re a night owl, otherwise we wouldn’t have met” Steve tried to turn the conversation back to them and to keep it positive.

“I guess you’re right. You didn’t order anything?” You frowned, noticing his empty hands.

“I was waiting for you, it’s my treat.” You opened your mouth to protest but Steve was quick to add, “Don’t even try to argue with me on this one.”

You sighed but ultimately relented, following him to the counter. He let you order first.

“Um, just a small hot chocolate please, thank you so much”

Steve thought it was cute that you didn’t drink caffeine, he knew hot chocolate was your drink of choice. He knew this of course from hours of pouring over every profile of yours he could find on the internet. He even found your tumblr you were just sure nobody knew about. Turns out you’ve got quite the dirty mind. But that was a thought for another day. Steve turned back to the counter and ordered black coffee and paid the bill.

With drinks in hand you made your way back to your table and settled in for an afternoon of art history. It went smoothly overall and Steve even got you to laugh a few times. He’d perfectly played his balance of pretending not to know about the subject while seeming to be learning what you were teaching. He could tell you felt proud of yourself for accomplishing something and he was happy he could make you feel that way. He was sure he was the only one that could.

You called it a day and said your goodbyes, you went in for an awkward hug which Steve accepted wholeheartedly. He’d even managed to finally snag your number so you two could work out more study times. Maybe you were coming around much easier than he anticipated. He smiled to himself and on the walk home began to devise a plan to get rid of Sean. It’d only be a matter of days if everything went accordingly.

____

You were basking in the rare day off, taking every moment to enjoy doing absolutely nothing. You’d felt drained lately from your class workload, late nights at the library, and your elevating fights with Sean. He was at work today followed by an evening class so you had uninterrupted alone time. Around 10pm it took every ounce of your free will to get off the couch and get the mail.

You milled over to your box and jammed the key in. Pulling the mail out your head titled in curiosity at the large unmarked manila folder. No return address written, only yours but there was nothing indicating whether it was for you or Sean. You’d open it when you got back upstairs.

Finally back to your spot on the couch your fingers slowly undid the folder’s metal clasp and you reached inside for its contents. Out came several photos and a hastily written note. You held the grainy photos closer to your face to make out what they were. When you did your heart plummeted and you went into emotional shock.

Though the photos were grainy it was very clear what they were of. Shots of Sean and some mystery brunette making out in a bar. Sean with his arm around her waist, Sean with his hand on her ass. All the photos were timestamped for only a few days ago when he claimed his soccer game was running late. You dropped them instantly and they scattered to the floor.

Your heart was hammering in your ears, you didn’t know what to think. Sean was the only boyfriend you’d ever really had, Sean loved you, you loved him. Somewhere in the back of your mind you remembered there was a note. You searched for it and tried to read it through the tears that were beginning to blur your vision.

‘I know what you did. You tell her or I will. You have three days’

You didn’t recognize the handwriting. Who would send this? Why would they send it? You and Sean didn’t have many friends and you couldn’t picture them doing this. Maybe this is some prank? Maybe the timestamp is wrong and this is before you were together.

Sean was all you’d ever known and you shared an apartment, it’s not like you’d have anywhere to go or anyone to turn to. Should you confront him with these? It’s not like you two were exactly good at solving your problems. Would he leave you if you showed him these? What then?

Your mind was spinning, unsure of what to do with this new information. Maybe you could keep quiet about this, try to spend some more time with Sean, make him see what the two of you have. Maybe you can ask him to be home more, maybe you could be home more too.

You took a deep breath and wiped your tears before you gathered the photos and put them back into the envelope. You decided you’d hold onto them for now, tucking them away in your drawer of the dresser. Deciding you’d just work yourself up if you stayed up you shot Sean a text goodnight and went to bed.

Morning came and he was snuggled into your side, the comfort you felt had you feeling like everything might be okay for a moment. You stayed in bed just a little longer and turned so he could hold you in his arms. Your heart felt so unsure and scared, but you didn’t know what else you could do.

The week passed by and you decided to shift more of your energy towards your relationship with Sean, pushing your nights at the library to the backburner. You still hadn’t told him about the envelope but you did tell him you missed him and wished he was home more. He relented and was home four nights this week instead of his usual two.

The time together was uncomfortable but you kept telling yourself that things were getting a little better over time, even if your studies were suffering for it. As the week went on you were able to suppress your doubts about your relationship a bit more. Sean loved you and you loved him.

You couldn’t ignore the oncoming threat of midterms forever, though. The last thing you wanted was to be alone because you knew that your thoughts would just spiral but you needed to do well this semester so you grabbed your bag and headed out.

You swipe through the doors, almost looking forward to seeing Steve. You’d blown off your study session with a profuse apology so you could be with Sean. You were eager to apologize in person but found the reference desk to be completely abandoned. You frowned, maybe Steve was putting away books or something. You’d see him eventually though, for now you had an essay to write.

Hours could have gone by and you wouldn’t have known. You were getting so much done though, it felt good to be focused on something other than your own thoughts.

“Where’ve you been?”

You jump in your seat. You turn around to find Steve emerging from the shelves that were just out of your view. He wore a neutral expression but you could cut the tension with a knife. He stepped forward and you debated on what to say.

“Sorry, I had to cancel with you this week. How are you getting along?”

“Nothing another tutoring session couldn’t fix, I’m sure. Were you sick? I feel like you haven’t been here in forever. The nights get awful lonely without ya here”

Why did Steve keep making statements like that when he knew you had a boyfriend? It was driving you insane and getting harder to ignore them.

“Um, no, I was with Sean, actually. But y’know, can’t avoid midterms forever” You gave a half-hearted laugh hoping to lighten things up.

Steve’s neutral expression is slipping, but you can’t tell if he’s angry or not. But his face broke out into a small smile, putting you at ease instantly. He clapped you on the shoulder and took a step back.

“Yeah, guess you’re right. We still on for Tuesday?”

You gave him an easy smile and nodded.

“I’ll be counting the days” With that Steve disappeared back between the shelves.

____

The moment Steve placed the envelope in the mail he felt a confidence he hadn’t felt before. All he had to do was wait for you to open the envelope and everything would take its course. He knew Sean was at work and you’d be the one to get the mail that day. From his spot he’d peered in your windows all those weeks ago he watched you open the photos. You dropped them to the ground and held a hand to your mouth to cover what looked like a sob. Steve smiled to himself, now all you had to do was leave him.

The week went on and Steve figured you might need a little time to break it off and he’d be there at the library, waiting to comfort you. It’s not like you had any other friends in your life to turn to. But then you cancelled your study session with no explanation. Steve figured maybe you were still in shock, needed to cry it out alone. Then two days turned to four turned to seven.

Steve was confused, he was infuriated even. Why hadn’t you come to the library yet? Why hadn’t you texted him? There’s no way that you were actually going to stay with him after you saw him with another woman. Except that’s exactly what he did.

Looking back on it Steve recognized his mistakes. He knew you were shy and meek, sweet, it’s what he loved about you. But he should’ve accounted for this to happen. You were too sweet for your own good, wanting to make it work with Sean. It was an obstacle he hadn’t seen but this is just a slight bump in the plan. He can work around it.

When he saw you coming up the steps on the security camera he made himself scarce, not ready to face you just yet. He gave you some hours to study before he made himself known to you. He could tell just by the way you talked that you were in complete denial about what was happening. You weren’t strong enough to leave him but that’s okay, Steve is strong enough for the both of you right now, he’ll help you get there.

____

Just when you thought things were getting better Sean was back to becoming distant, going out with his teammates and coming home still a little drunk. The more you thought about those photos and thought about how he slipped back into old habits so easily the more you were working up the courage to confront him. You weren’t sure if you’d leave him, but maybe it would make him change.

Then the second envelope came. More photos of them kissing and leaving the bar together. They were time stamped just two nights ago. Your heart fell through the floor as you tried to make sense of things. How much of this could you put up with? When was enough? You needed to confront him when he got home.

You texted him to try to come home early tonight, saying it was important. You spent the rest of the evening planning out your words and trying to quell the oncoming panic attacks. Time passed by in a blur and before you knew it it was midnight and you still had no word from Sean. You couldn’t spend one more minute alone, you needed to get out. You needed a friend.

Your body was on autopilot as your feet carried you up the steps of the library. Steve wasn’t at the desk and you felt almost distressed. You knew he’d be a good third party to talk all this out to and you didn’t know what to think when he wasn’t there. You decided to shoot him a text.

‘Hey, I know you usually work Thursdays, I’ll be at my usual spot, I could really use a friend if you’re not too busy’ Did that sound too desperate? At this point you didn’t care.

You sunk down into your chair on the second floor with a huff. You hadn’t brought your bag so it’s not like you could study to distract yourself. As it turned out you didn’t need to.

“I’m never too busy for you, doll. ‘Specially not at this job” Steve’s voice carried as he rounded a corner into your sight.

You felt instantly better before you realized you were crying. It was hard to be vulnerable but if you could trust anyone with this it was Steve. You gave him a weak smile as he pulled up a chair beside you.

“What’s wrong? Do you need tissues?”

“No, sorry, I just.” You were struggling to find the words. “Sean is cheating on me”

Steve’s hands clenched into fists, he looked absolutely furious for you.

“Are you serious? That bastard! Doll, I’m so sorry. Have you confronted him?” His hand reached for yours and his thumb rubbed light circles.

“I-I, I haven’t said...anything. I just. He loves me y’know? Why would he do that? He’s all I have? What happens if he leaves me where will I stay I’ll be completely alone, I’ll-”

You had worked yourself into a panic attack as you desperately tried to take gulps of air while tears streamed down your face. You were losing touch with your surroundings and spiraling into a place you couldn’t get yourself out of. Steve moved his chair closer to you and brought you into his lap. He held your back to his chest and wrapped his arms around you. You could just make out what he was saying.

“Doll, it’s okay, I need you to breathe with me, can you do that? Take a deep breath in with me. Hold it and count to five with me,” You do but you’re still struggling. “Now exhale, count again for me. You’re doing so well, you can do this.”

Eventually Steve is able to bring you back down to Earth and you slumped back into his arms. You don’t care that Steve is holding you, it feels safe. You shifted so you could lean your head against his chest and let out a heavy sigh. He holds you to himself and lets you sit there for a while.

You don’t know how much time passes but you sit up slowly and he’s reluctant to let you go. You wipe your eyes as you go back to your own chair.

“Sorry, I’m keeping you from your job. Sorry I just totally came here and freaked out” You were starting to feel embarrassed, oversharing your life and emotions with him. You really liked him, you didn’t want to think you’d ruined the friendship.

“Don’t even apologize. You can always come to me.” He gave you a warm smile and you felt reassured. “So what are you going to do about Sean?”

Another hour had gone by with Steve and you could see the sun starting to come through the windows. You had decided you would confront him and go from there. You weren’t ready to fully commit to leaving him but this needed to end one way or another. For the first time in two weeks you felt like things were maybe going to be okay. The next time you saw Sean you were going to confront him.

____

Clearly seeing that you weren’t going to do anything after he sent the photos, he had to go to plan B. Steve waited outside the practice field and followed him to the parking structure once again. He jammed the parking stub in his jacket pocket along with the others and repeated his previous trips here. It was astounding how unaware Sean was of his surroundings, Steve had followed him and that girl from the bar back to her place at least twice now.

Getting what he needed he put another envelope in the mail the next day, this time with no note but the photos were more upsetting. It hurt Steve to hurt you but it’s what needed to be done. You were never going to confront him with things as they were so he had to push the envelope, literally and metaphorically. The hurt would be worth it though, because you came crying to him just like he’d hoped you would. Seeing your text warmed his heart, you needed him and he’d be there. Every time.

He knew he’d be comforting you but he didn’t think that he’d get to hold you. He was hiding his smile as he wrapped his arms around you and brought you down from your panic attack. You did so well listening to him and calming down. He was convinced he was the only one that could help you, you just needed to see that.

Steve abandoned his cart of books that needed to be shelved but he couldn’t care less. He’d stay up all night with you every night if that’s what it took. As dawn broke the two of you devised a plan and he built you up to say something. You weren’t committed to leaving him, which Steve wasn’t happy about, but you were committed to confronting him, if only you’d get the chance.

Based on what Steve knew of both yours and Sean's schedules you’d just miss each other between classes during the day and Sean had a game tonight, which would inevitably lead to a night at the bar. All Steve had to do was wait. He had to contain his excitement, things were finally finally falling right into place, they just needed a final push.

Nightfall came and this time Steve beat Sean to the structure. Steve parked on the top level and stuck the parking stub in his pocket. He didn’t feel like he was taking a risk by counting on Sean to follow routine, he was a good boy, he’d park in his same spot he always did and proceed to get wasted across the street.

A slow smile creeped across Steve’s face as Sean and his teammates stumbled into the bar, probably already drunk from pre-gaming. Sean’s sidepiece wouldn’t come to the bar tonight, her sorority having some dumb mixer or another. Steve reminded himself of his mantra to wait. His phone buzzed and he saw it was a text from you. You two had been texting after you came to him in the library.

‘He’s not responding to my texts. I know he had a game tonight but I really thought he’d be here’

He’d have to text you back another time, Steve needed to be on his toes tonight. He sat at what was becoming his usual booth for nearly two hours, barely touching his pint. Finally Sean paid his tab and said goodnight to his friends. Steve pulled down the brim of his hat and pursued him towards the parking structure. Drunken and fumbling up through the stairwell, Steve entered behind him quietly while taking out a knife he’d stolen from Bucky. He always knew his friend’s strange obsession with them would come in handy someday.

Just as Sean was about to take the final step Steve grabbed him from behind. Sean’s reactions may have been slowed but it hadn’t stopped him trying to thrash out of the grip. His efforts stopped immediately as Steve held the blade to his throat. He spoke clearly and in a low voice.

“Keep walking up the stairs or I will slit your fucking throat, do you hear me?” He brought the knife closer to his neck to drive home the threat.

“E-easy man, please, please don’t do this”

“Keep moving. Up.”

Steve pushed him all the way towards his car at the edge of the top level. He flipped Sean around so his back was to the ledge, the knife still trained closely on him. Pleads for mercy fell on deaf ears.

“What do you wan’!? You wan’ money!? Take, take my wallet man I don’t need it, jus’ please don’t kill me please!”

Steve pushed him slightly, though his grip on him remained tight. Sean struggled against him as his body weight wavered over the ledge. He must have realised how far up they were because he started crying at this point, begging even harder as he teetered and trying desperately to get his bearings against the wall.

“Why are you doing this!?” He wailed, “I’ll do anything, please! Please, I have a girlfriend, I have a family”

That was all that it took. Steve was feeling a high like he’d never felt. He knew at this moment he was doing the right thing for both of you. With a rush of adrenaline and in a flash of certainty he pushed Sean’s body over the edge. He didn’t watch him fall the seven stories down to the ground, but he did wait to hear the sickening crack and thud of his body hitting the ground. There was no way he’d survived.

Blood rushing through his ears, he felt euphoric, so powerful, so in love with you. He climbed back into his car and headed for his apartment. His plan wasn’t quite complete yet though, but everything he needed to do was done. He could watch the rest unfold from the sidelines. He knows you’ll be heartbroken all over again when you find out, but he’ll be there to pick up the pieces.

____

You’d been in mourning for nearly two months. The shock you’d felt wasn’t comparable to any other feeling you’d felt. The police ultimately ruled his death an accident, they performed an autopsy and found dangerous amounts of alcohol in his system. They weren’t able to pinpoint an exact time of death but estimated 2-3 AM, as he’d been found in the morning. They figured he’d just gotten piss drunk and came too close to the edge. And he was gone just like that.

His death weighed heavy on you, you blamed yourself for a long time. He wouldn’t have stayed out if you hadn’t pushed him so far away from you. The last thing you ever said to him was nagging and whiny, no wonder he didn’t want to come home. To think that you were possibly going to leave him. You felt so much self-contempt but slowly you were learning to forgive yourself.

You don’t know what you’d have done without Steve by your side. He was there for you every step of the way. He held you at the funeral, he helped you pack up Sean’s things in the apartment, he took your late night phone calls and came over at the drop of a hat to help you through your grief. You were eternally grateful for his selflessness and his willingness to help you heal.

Guilt loomed over you once again as the old feelings you’d had for Steve in the early days of your friendship started to flare up again. It felt natural to feel them, with him being closer to you than he ever was, but it didn’t stop you from feeling shame over it. You had to remind yourself that you weren’t culpable for anything that happened, that Sean himself was interested in someone else when he’d died. You had to forgive yourself for these feelings for Steve. Maybe even pursue them.

‘Can you come over tonight? I think we should talk’ Your nerves were on fire from the rush you got sending him that text.

‘How about you come to my place? 7? We can go for something to eat if you want.’ Your heart was fluttering, was this a date?

‘Sounds good :)’

Checking the time you saw it was 4, you spent the next few hours obsessing over what to say. No matter what you were determined to tell him your feelings for him. You were debating whether or not you should kiss him. Would he even want you back? What if he only sees you as a friend now? The hours whiled away and you took a deep breath before setting out.

You’d been to Steve’s apartment only once before, you knew he lived alone but he’d managed to make the place feel homey. You were buzzed in and before you had the chance to knock on the door Steve had it open and was waiting for you. His smile was all teeth and it was contagious, you smiled back looking up at him and he let you in.

You sat down on the couch and waited for Steve. No turning back now. Deep breath. He sat down and turned to face you.

“What did you want to talk about?”

No words were coming to you. Your mouth opened but you could only sputter. Oh God, where were the words? Do something!

So you did. Before you could think about it you put a shaky hand up to Steve’s jaw and pulled him in for a kiss. You didn’t know what you were feeling, you were just waiting for Steve to respond. You began to pull back but before you could he took your face in his hands and kissed you back tenderly but with purpose. Your arms were around him and he pulled you closer into his lap to kiss you more passionately.

You finally pulled apart to catch your breath. You snuck a look up to his face and you were nervous but you felt like you were floating.

“You have… no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that” He said between breaths.

You two smiled like idiots and he brought his lips to yours again. The kiss deepened and a moan slipped from your mouth. This seemed to spark something in Steve and his hands shakily moved over your body. He was feeling every curve of you and you ground down into his lap and his hips bucked up in response. You have no idea where this confidence came from but you’d never felt more sure of yourself. You broke apart again and Steve was breathing heavily.

“Is this what you want?” He asked. You could only nod before he was on you again. He pulled you up from the couch and led you to his bed. This time he laid you back and was hovering over you, slowly undoing the buttons of your jeans. You helped him get yourself out of them and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. How was this happening? Who cares?

He sat back and took the sight of you in, he was looking at you like you were the most precious thing. He slowly removed his clothes and moved back over you, kissing his way up your thighs before pulling your panties down your legs. He continued laving away at your skin, making you nervous but excited. His fingers brushed your core and he brought them up to his face.

“Sweetheart, you are dripping.” Your cheeks heated instantly as he chuckled. Not giving you the chance to respond he dove right in. Two fingers entered you and you arched your back, his tongue lapped up your wetness and then at your clit. You’d really never known pleasure like this, no one had ever done this for you before. His fingers pumped in and out of you and your hands flew to his hair and pulled. He continued on and curved his fingers just slightly and you clenched down around him, you were so close.

“Please, I’m so close” you whimpered.

Steve doubled his efforts and before you knew it the tension he had been building up was released in a white hot flash of ecstasy. You writhed against his fingers as he kept pumping them into you. Finally he relented, pulling them out and licking them clean. You’d never seen something that made you feel so filthy but so so good.

He took off his boxers and encased you in his arms. He kissed your neck and you moaned again at the feeling. You spread yourself for him and he lined himself up and groaned. The stretch was something you weren’t ready for. It burned almost, you cried out as he put his whole length in you. He waited all of two seconds before he began thrusting into you. You weren’t ready but you were adjusting quickly with the way his cock hit that spot inside of you over and over.

You were holding onto his shoulders, nails digging in deep as he started to go harder and faster.

“I’m close” He panted into your ear.

Reaching down his fingers found your clit and started moving back and forth quickly, trying to match his thrusts. The tension was building again to a breaking point and you were getting close again. He worked you even harder until you broke, cumming for a second time. Your eyes were screwed shut in ecstasy as you cried again.

“Steve!”

That was all it took before he slammed into you a final time, you could feel his release and you’d never felt closer to him. His movements stopped and your noses touched. He kissed you hard before rolling off of you.

“That was… oh my god” you breathed.

“I know, me too” Steve chuckled. “So can I take you to dinner?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” You grinned wide and nodded.

You cleaned yourself up and redressed. You were taking in Steve’s room and found yourself smiling at the photos of him and Bucky, little knick-knacks on his dresser. You found a sticky note on the calendar at his desk. You squinted. Had you seen his handwriting before?

You shrugged and flopped yourself back on the bed. You checked the weather on your phone and frowned at the temperature, you let out a small groan.

“What is it?” Steve called from the bathroom as he cleaned up.

“It’s so coooold and I forgot my jacket” You pouted.

“Just take mine, it’s the brown leather one hanging in the living room” He was so sweet.

Gingerly, you made your way into the living room and found the jacket, slipping it on. You don’t know what was taking Steve so long but you shoved your hands in the pockets and waited for him. You felt something in the right pocket. Is this trash? You pulled out little wadded up pieces of paper and unfolded them.

They were parking stubs. They were from the same structure that Sean had fallen from. Your heart was pounding, upset just thinking of him. Looking closer one of them was stamped for 2:15 AM, 2/1, the night that he died. Okay...

1 AM 1/15, 11:57PM 1/28, They matched the timestamp on the photos that had been sent to you. Two others were from nights when Sean had games and had stayed out late. Your heart was in your throat and tears were forming in your eyes, trying to find some explanation. You thought again of the first time you’d received an envelope, those photos, that note. It had dawned on you why the note looked so familiar… The handwriting! Oh, God... Your whole world slowed down as you heard footsteps bound into the room. Slowly you turned, the stubs still in your shaking hands.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Steve took a step further, “You weren’t supposed to see those.”

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and villains

Roman Castile: Passion and duty

Roman finds that his different passions seem to get in each other's way for now. But one day, he will find a balance.

“Ugh! I am done!” Roman exclaimed relieved, barely hearing the hissed warning from the librarian. Homework had been draining. Sure they’d had fun. Especially when it came to teasing Virgil about his pronunciation when they worked on Spanish.

Still Roman was ready to do literally anything else.

“Give me a sec, I have to finish this thing for English,” Virgil muttered absentmindedly. Roman knew that Virgil had rewritten that particular assignment two times already.

“Want me to read it trough for you?” Roman offered. Maybe hearing someone say that it was good would be enough to stop him from second guessing himself again.

“You don’t…”  Virgil started, somehow looking guilty.

“We’re here to help each other Virgil. If I didn’t want to help you I wouldn’t offer. I thrive on being of help to my friends. It’s no trouble,” he assured him. Virgil offered him a small smile and a nod in response. “Alright. You can read it when I’m done,” he allowed.

Roman took peace with that and opened his notebook to start doodling.

He had a few ideas for some more shirt designs. He’d enjoyed making his ‘coming out’ shirt. Then there was the Halloween party and every other social event this year has to offer where he had to slay. Junior year was a year to be noticed. Nothing wrong with putting down some ideas in advance. He just might come across the perfect outfit.

“Seems I’m not the only one who can draw up some clothes,” Virgil noted and Roman nearly fell of his chair when he jumped at his sudden proximity.

“Will you stop that!?” A thing about Virgil Roman had learned over the last week. He always seemed to pop up out of nowhere. One minute he’s gushing over the latest Disney trailer with André and suddenly Virgil stands next to him giving his two cents. It was terrifying.

“Not a chance,” Virgil chuckled as he picked up Roman’s sketches.

“This looks good though… You ever thought of becoming a fashion designer?”

Roman’s eyes widened. Making amazing outfits for a living? He could make a whole ‘wear your pride’ line and… Oh… Oh…!

“You are a genius!” Roman exclaimed. He’d had no idea what he wanted to do with his future, aside from hero work, but now the idea was brought up he wanted nothing else. Fashion designer, superhero, actor, maybe also Mr. Castile-Anker. That was a future he could look forward to!

Virgil chuckled. “It’s the least I can do. I sent in the designs like you said… I’m kind of excited.”

Roman beamed at him. “I’m sure next time you see DreamPrince on the news he’ll be wearing your design.” He was. He’d been shown some alternative designs by Manifestor and found Virgil’s drawing among them and immediately declared that that was the one.

As he’d told Roman, he’d changed a few things. He’d shown him on Wednesday to get his stamp of approval. Roman had gushed unapologetically, because he knew he’d have to tone it back a bit in front of the team.

Which had been hard.

Tonight he’d be taking it for a test run and he’d make sure to be seen by people and cameras.

“We’ll see,” Virgil smiled as he pushed his laptop with his assignment towards Roman.

Roman read it, dropping the subject without problem.

Virgil was easy to be friends with and he’d quickly learned to read his moods.

During lunch Virgil usually sat himself a little bit away from the group when he felt the need to just focus on his music and sketch a little before heading back to class. He was sarcastic, witty and could dish it out about as well as he could take it.

He was also very guarded emotionally, which Roman could understand, but whenever they were just the two  of them, Virgil opened up some more. He’d learned about Virgil’s soon to be stepdad and the admittedly adorable meet cute he’d been a part of.

He knew that Virgil’s dad had found them a new home and they’d moved in just that week.

He learned that Virgil was mature and his dad’s only wingman which they both agreed was super awkward but also hilarious.

Roman had joked that Virgil might end up being his father’s best man. But apparently there was a family friend ‘uncle Thomas’ who might get that position.

Virgil had gone out with another girl that week. Anna, who’d had English with him last year or something. Virgil had listened patiently, but relatively unaffected to her asking him out and arranged another semi-date at the music store for the next evening. Luckily nothing came from it again. Roman asked him why he kept saying yes to people he barely knew. Virgil explained that he had missed out on enough chances to befriend others. So the way he saw it he’d at the very least get a friend out of it. Roman kind of took comfort in that. It didn’t sound like Virgil was trying to get a girlfriend or a boyfriend right now. Just trying to socialize. Roman had reminded Virgil to watch his boundaries though. He wouldn’t want him to push himself out of fear he’d be missing out.

One more thing he learned about Virgil: he was overly critical of himself.

“Well, I think you can hand this in with confidence Virge,” Roman concluded as he returned Virgil’s laptop to him.

“So… I recall something about pizza? I’m starving!” he grinned.

Virgil chuckled and lead the way. Soon they were sat at a table with their orders and they were talking about everything and nothing. It was great. And Roman was so close to asking Virgil out but…

“So… Um… There’s this… Shoot wait a minute,” Roman got up and picked up his phone.

“Si mama…?” he asked curiously after seeing the caller ID.

“Darling. I know you are out with your friend. But I wanted you to know we’re headed to the university now,” his mother informed him. The university… Wait. “Que?” Roman looked at his watch incredulously. He was going to be late. Unless he left right now that is.

“Perdona! I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and dug through his wallet for some money.

“So sorry Virge! Time got away from us I’m afraid. I swear I intended to give you that ride… Can you call your dad… You know what? Just use the change to take the bus or something alright? My treat! I’ll call you later!” he promised as he tossed down a few bills that should more than cover the tab and the tip before rushing away.

How was it so late already?

He sprinted around a few corners and found a spot to get changed. BS had explained about the sciency stuff behind his costume change, but all Roman really cared about was that he basically had a magical boy transformation. Sure he could sit there and let the tech do its thing, but it was much more fun to make up a cool transformation sequence.

First, hair. He retrieved a lip balm like object and applied the substance to his hairline. He tucked the balm away and with one smooth movement of his hand he styled and recolored his hair. Instead of parted in the middle with regal waves it was flicked to the back, save for a single rebellious strand dangling down his forehead. Instead of a deep ash brown it was warm chestnut in color.

Then he took a tini metallic bead from a ring on his finger and tapped it against his temple, before he swiped his hand in front of his eyes as his mask placed itself securely on his face, changing his eye color in the process. He tapped his wrists together in front of his chest and brought them down with force, feeling his blazer and shirt get replaced by the skintight suit. He tapped his right heal against his left before taking another power position and finishing his costume change.

How cool was his life?!

He created a platform to lift himself to the roof and sprinted towards the university. The GTH was in it’s basement. As he made his way there he started to think over asking Virgil out again.

Maybe, now wasn’t the time. Virgil was clearly still upset about the whole Janus thing. He didn’t say it but Roman could tell. And he didn’t want Virgil to think for even a second that Roman’s crush was anything less than genuine, he had noticed that Virgil still had trouble believing their friendship was real at times. Not to mention that starting a relationship with someone while he was still figuring out how to balance out superhero and civilian life was clearly a bad idea. He couldn’t even ask him out without being interrupted by his other life.

So, he'd wait until he had his life in order and he was sure Virgil was ready. There was definitely some kind of connection between them. And Roman was willing to wait until the time was right…

He knew he was being a coward, but his friendship with Virgil was so fragile.

He entered the basement campus with little hassle and dropped of his bag in his personal locker, making sure to lock it. If anyone with ill intent got in here they could easily find out his identity with it's contents and Roman didn’t want his name out like that. Not yet at least.

He hurried to the training hall, threw open the doors and slid inside.

“Your prince has returned!” he exclaimed, doing a pretty good job at pretending he hadn't just sprinted the whole way there.

“Has he now?” BS asked, apparently in a bad mood today.

“Oh come now big S, the boy is just excited for his present! I would be too if I got a new costume made for me by a secret admirer,” Sweets offered with a calming hand on BS' shoulder. Sweets was an empath. He could share his emotions and those of others, perfect match for someone who wants or needs to keep his calm.

But what sweets said made Roman rather flustered. “I don't think DreamPrince has had enough appearances to already gain such attentions. Whoever did this just couldn't stand to look at this any longer.” Roman gestured to his current costume.

“Speaking of which…” he held out his hand bouncing on his feet in excitement. He was supposed to meet the chief of police today and he wanted to look presentable.

Manifestor chuckled from his spot on the desk. “Give the boy his stuff. He's been looking forward to this day for the past four years.”

BS sighed and handed Roman a small box, which the young hero snatched up before rushing to the dressing room.

He turned his suit off and took off the containment units. He opened the box and switched the old units for the new ones. The bracelets were more comfortable and adjusted to his skin tone, the metal bead was replaced with two skin colored stickers he applied to his temples.

“Let’s do this,” Roman smirked excitedly.

“To adventure!” he called out as he crossed his arms and tapped at his temples while simultaneously clicking his wrists together. At the same time he tapped his right toe behind his left heel and brought his ankles together. He struck a power pose, facing the full length mirror and grinned excitedly. Virgil had added an insignia on his cape and golden trimming in the final design. There'd been a few options for his emblem and Roman had chosen the shield with a castle by the sea with the sun shining down on him. He looked quite dashing.

He left the dressing room and handed the box back to BS with an elegant gesture.

BS wasn't amused. Sweets and Manifestor on the other found it hilarious.

“So? What do you think?” Roman asked as he turned around to show off the end result.

A loud ‘bing' announced a message from his family watching from the observation room.

“Gaaaaaaay!” Roman rolled his eyes good naturedly. Remus was a fan.

“Stay away from Planes!” the next one read. Roman chuckled. He had asked Virgil about the cape, considering he’d expected someone as cautious as him to heed Edna Mode's advice.

Apparently Virgil had intended the Cape to be an addition for official events. So ‘Prince’ would look good on camera. He'd also pointed out that it would look badass for the prince to un-claps his Cape before a fight. He'd had a point and Roman actually loved it.

“You look very handsome darling.”

“Thanks mom!” Roman called out.

Then two beeps came from a device on BS wrist. He looked down and relaxed, tapping away at a holographic screen, turning up the intensity of his shadow. “The chief is here,” he announced.

Roman raised an eyebrow, that was not what BS had been so tense about. Something in his private life maybe? If that was the case he'd never find out.

Roman had no time to worry about that though. The door opened and in walked the police chief. A small but commanding African American woman. It was something in the way she walked that made Roman want to stand at attention. And so he did. He wasn't the only one.

“DreamPrince, at your service ma’am,” Roman introduced himself respectfully.

“So you are what all the fuss is about?” she asked as she looked Roman up and down.

Chief Davies pursed her lips before nodding to herself. “I’ve read your file, you’re quite the prodigy aren’t you?” she asked.

Roman chuckled a little awkwardly. “I’ve just been training from a young age, that’s all.” Most gifted didn’t realize their talent until they were well in their teens.

“Good answer. I have no time to stroke an adolescent ego. We’ve got work to do.”

Chief Davies turned to Manifestor. “You got the files I sent?”

Manifestor nodded hurriedly. “Yes. I had no time to review them though.”

“I’ll walk you through it,” she announced dismissively. The leader of Roman’s training team nodded and tapped at something on his wrist. The screen that had shown the messages from Roman’s family earlier was now filled with mugshots.

The men looked dangerous. Roman shifted nervously. “You… you want my help apprehending these men?” he asked, trying not to show how frightening it seemed.

“God No!” Roman hid his relieve. “These men are all in jail already, with iron clad cases keeping them there for a long time. You think I’m going to send some rookie after hardcore criminals? No offense, but you are still a baby,” Roman blushed at that and focused back on the pictures.

Wait a minute. “I know that guy! Remember at the end of my first week? I spotted some tugs bothering that kid and tossed a rock at them?”

“And by some miracle you weren’t found when said tugs came looking for you,” BS added through gritted teeth. Still upset at Roman's initial recklessness.

“I wasn’t the only one they were looking for,” Roman insisted. He’d been so sure he hadn’t been alone that night. But BS claimed the would have known if anyone else had been there.

He never went after the tugs after they left the alley. BS insisting he was done with back alleys for the night.

And now those guys were apparently behind bars?

“Next slide please!” Davies called out.

A picture of a ziplock bag with pictures, a USB stick and a note of cut out letters that said ‘your turn’.

“For almost a year now we’ve been getting mysterious packages like this. Pictures, audio and video recordings. Every last one had one of these men incriminating themselves. It’s like whoever delivers these stands right next to them, but never gets caught taking pictures or carrying a wire. I have a small task force on the case who have dubbed them ‘The Phantom’. We are keeping this as in house as we can. Once the public hears about the Phantom, we’ll lose the most valuable asset we’ve ever had. Plus until now we weren’t sure if they were a sensible vigilante or a mobster who was taking out competition in a very clever way. Given what you just said I’d be inclined towards the former. They might have some sort of gift that hides them well enough to get away with spying. But right now, they are putting themselves in danger.” Davies turned towards Roman.

“Keep an eye out, see if you can spot him during your patrol this evening. And if you do, get him on board with the program.”

“Prince did not go through all that training to be your recruitment poster boy!” BS snapped to Roman's surprise. That was the most emotional response he's seen from BS ever. Aside from when he scolded Roman on his reckless behavior.

Davies glared at BS, looking quite intimidating, despite barely reaching to his chest.

“Now don't go all noble on me BrainStorm. What? Did your heart grow three sizes while I wasn't looking? Is there suddenly room for more than one other person there?”

Roman knew that this was a threat. Davies knew BS’ true identity, where he worked, who he cared for. She could ruin whatever he had built in an instant.

Roman often wondered what kind of life BS had outside the facility. Did he have a partner? A family? Did they know about his past at all.

A few seconds ticked by with no one daring to do so much as breathe.

Then Davies relaxed and stepped back. “I'm no monster BrainStorm. I wouldn't ask some rookie to deal with this if I hadn’t tried everything else already. I send in my agents and even called in other gifted. All we got out of that was this,” she gestured and Manifestor showed the next image. A note in the same style as the previous one that said ‘no babysit!’

“Our profiler thinks they are young. So maybe your prince won't seem as threatening. They might've had his back once before already. If this Phantom were someone you cared for, would you rather we left them be, or would you drag their noble behind here yourself to give them proper gear and back up?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, BS had nothing to counter with. Roman imagined Phantom being one of his friends, or even Janus and the answer remained the same.

“I will do what I can,” he vowed before lifting his chin and facing the fierce chief head on. “But ma'am, I don't appreciate you threatening my mentor like that.”

BS had stood up for him, it was only right for him to return the favor.

Davies chuckled. “Just when I started to worry you were only brawn and a pretty face. You can be smart too huh? And you’ve got guts. You just might have what it takes kid. Now. I have places to be. Keep me updated, and don't lose this.” Roman accepted the watch he was handed with a confused frown.

“My people will call if we need you. Please use that brain and return the favor?”

With that she left. Well… that was intense.

Roman put on the watch and saw that it had a frequency displayed on it instead of time. He also spotted two buttons. One blue and one red. It didn't take much to realize that one was a panic button and the other was to make it so the cops could hear him. He wondered if it would connect to the nearest patrol car or to Davies directly.

He hoped he’d never have to find out.

“Well… time to show the city their hero is ready for action.”

 It had been a pleasant evening so far. He'd stopped a few shoplifters, broke up a fight or two and dodged a few reporters, though he let them snap a good picture of his new outfit.

Now the sun was down however and he was making his way to the back alleys.

“Looking for a fight is foolish Prince!” BS growled through his earpiece.

But Roman wasn't looking for a fight. He was looking for someone who'd gotten him out of at least one pickle.

He ignored BS as he landed on a roof, overlooking the city using his sight. He didn’t know what he was looking for exactly, but it was his only plan.

Suddenly he spotted something strange and unusual. There was an energy, a few blocks ahead. But it was impossible for him to really see it. Like he was looking at it trough glasses with strong prescriptions.

He rushed towards it and found a gang of criminals with violently swirling auras. He knew what this meant. They were going to hurt someone.

“Send back up to my location,” he instructed before turning the receiver off. He needed to focus.

“I say we attack now! They are week! We can take them down easily.” A shorter guy with energy like glass shards insisted.

“Boss says we have a truce until the rat is found,” a giant of a man stated calmly, though his energy betrayed how much he wanted to go with the first guy's plan.

Were they talking about Phantom?

“What rat!? Those idiots just bragged to the wrong crowd.” The first voice shot back. Phantom was becoming a bit of a ghost story it seemed. Some who believed, judging by the shudder that went through the other men's auras at the mere mention of them. But clearly not everyone was convinced.

“Oh and they gave out pictures as well? Did a little livestream? We're not safe until this rat is lynched,” the tall man pointed out tensely. He was a believer. And he wanted Phantom dead. Not good.

Roman studied the tugs and to his relief he spotted they were all armed. Weird thing to be happy about. But it meant he had probable cause to interfere.

He jumped down, slowing his descent just so that he didn't hurt himself on the landing without sacrificing the cool factor.

“Do you gentlemen have permits for those weapons?” he asked as he rose up to his full length facing them fearlessly.

“what the…?”

“It's that Prince clown!” Rude.

The tall guy, the leader probably, silenced the group with a gesture and smiled, his anxious energy almost completely disappearing. He'd found something to vent on. “Sure kid. Got mine right here.”

Roman flung his cape in front of him and manifested a gelatinous shield around himself as the leader pulled out his gun and fired several rounds at him. The tugs wouldn't see it. But it was there, and it caught the bullets slowing them down until they were harmless, making them fall to the ground when they met with the fabric.

“Well now you just pissed me off. This is brand new!” he complained as he dropped both cape and shield.

“I suppose you won't surrender peacefully?” he deduced. The criminals all readied their weapons. Seriously? Did they not get that he was essentially bulletproof?

He sighed as he took off his cape and hung it on a water pipe that ran down the side of the building.

“Fine,” he sighed and then he amped up his speed a bit while shielding himself from the rain of bullets heading his way. He used the gelatin shield because he didn't want to risk the bullets ricocheting and injuring someone. Especially the gifted he was sure was still watching the whole thing.

It wasn't hard to disarm the criminals. He even managed to knock a few to the ground. But there were at least two who'd gone down without him even touching them. And he would’ve sworn he saw a figure move between him and a tug once or twice to block a blow. He couldn't really see the other hero. It was an odd sensation. But he could feel his presence better and better and soon he was adapting his moves to those of the Phantom. Together they took out the whole group. Though to the villains it would seem like he'd done it by himself. He stood victorious over the leader, a pile of disassembled guns behind him and sirens lighting up the alley.

He twisted his foot to show off his white boot with gold accents. “So… how does it feel to get your butt kicked by a guy in heels?” he wondered playfully before looking up towards the presence and winking in acknowledgment.

“Good job Dream Prince. We've got it from here.” Roman turned to the cops and bowed to them

“It's my pleasure to be of assistance to the police of this fine city.” Then, while turning around, he made a gesture that could be taken as a ‘goodbye’, or as a ‘follow me’.

He was glad to notice that the presence seemed to follow him. He found a fire escape and floated himself to the roof it led to.

He turned to face his hopefully soon to be partner in crime fighting.

He could hear the clanging of someone climbing the metal fire escape. And while he still couldn't quite make out the figure that reached the roof he saw his reflection in a pool of water left behind by the rain earlier that day.

An unfortunate weakness, but so long as no one knew, no one would be looking for it. In order to be a hero, no one could know Phantom really existed. Was that why the authorities were kept at a distance? Why Phantom never made introductions despite having crossed paths at least once before?

He stepped forward with a bow. “Greetings Phantom. I must thank you for the assistance. Both just now and three months ago. I am Dream Prince, he/him if you please. A pleasure to officially meet you.”

A distorted chuckle made him look up. He could see Phantom much better now. He was dressed in Male coded clothes, though that was no guarantee. The hero outfit was simple. A black t-shirt, boots and denims, paired with a black coat that reached down to his calves and had the collar popped up. He looked really cool… but Roman couldn't make sense of his head. He was looking right at him he could see it, but his brain couldn't identify a thing.

It was so weird.

“Phantom huh?” His voice was a strange deep echoing sound. The distortion was pretty spooky if he was honest, but he wasn't afraid. Phantom was on his side.

“Sure you can call me that. He/him… mind telling me what that was about? I thought you officials weren't let of your leash unless you could be responsible enough to not get yourself killed?”

Roman cocked his brow. “Says the guy who has half the criminal underworld out for his blood,” he reminded him. Phantom looked away. Clearly he knew Roman had a point.

“Do you have something against the program?” His tone had been oddly bitter.

“No I…”  Phantom took in a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m just pissed at the cops for sending you, I guess.” He sure sounded upset. And Roman could understand that. Here Phantom was, doing his part and all the cops could do in return was bother him At least as far as the young vigilante could tell. But then why…?

“Yet you chose to follow me up here?” Roman pressed. That didn’t make any sense. Phantom had shaken off his ‘babysits’ before. What made Roman special?

“Um… Well… I just…” Phantom stammered. Roman wondered why. Was he bad with confrontation? Social interaction in general? Or had Roman said something that hit a nerve somehow?

“You interrupted my stake out!” Phantom blurted out all of a sudden.

“Do you know how long it takes to work my way up the ranks? First I have to find a low level runner, then I follow him to his boss, that guy to his and so up the ladder I go. I was getting real close to the big guy of this group. And now…” Oh… Well Roman could understand how that would be frustrating.

“I apologize,” he said sincerely with a small bow. “I merely intended to help. They were talking about killing you.” Surely he could understand that he could not stand by after hearing that.

“And now there is a price on your head! The leader of that little club is like two steps away from the big boss. They won’t be happy with you taking him in.”

Well… He had a point. But Roman had back up. It would be rather stupid of the mob to come after a hero with government sanctioning. And these guys would go behind bars for a long time right? “You got dirt on them?” he asked. If the guns weren’t enough then surely whatever Phantom  had gleaned from his stakeouts would be sufficient. Right?

“Yes… But that’s not the point. They have no clue about me. Not really. But you are out in the open. This is not your kind of mission Royal pain.” Oh, he had nicknames huh? It was an insult, but Roman didn’t mind witty banter. Especially if it came from a place of care. And Roman was starting to think it did.

“And now that you are out, you can’t expect me to hold your hand any longer…”

Roman crossed his arms and smirked catching the implications of what Phantom just said.

“You’ve been looking out for me all summer huh?” he guessed.

Phantom scoffed and probably rolled his eyes. While Roman still couldn’t quite see it, he would bet his entire Disney collection on it.

“It’s not like I came looking for you.” Phantom snapped. And Roman believed him.

“Still… Thank you…” he was going to say more but then he heard a beep in his ear followed by a loud voice. “Prince! Answer this instant!”

“Ow!” Roman exclaimed annoyed, reflexively reaching for his ear though it wouldn’t help much. He pressed the button to talk to BS. “One. Loud. Two. Rude! I am in the middle of something! And did you seriously remotely reactivate my com?”

He would demand a new com that couldn’t do that or he’d refuse to wear one period. What if he needed to concentrate right now? What if he was in the middle of tense negotiations or being told delicate information. As a matter of fact. This situation right here was delicate. One wrong move and Phantom might bolt. And he might not come along next time he found him. And even if he couldn’t get him to join the program, he wanted Phantom to know he had an ally in him. Someone to talk to, confide in, count on if he didn’t have anyone else.

“You do not turn off your com while going into a gunfight! It’s moronic to go in alone!”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I am fine, not a scratch on me.” He wasn’t going to mention that he wasn’t alone exactly. Phantom had never consented to BS and the rest of his team knowing.

“I’ll call you when I’m done here.” And this time he took the com out of his ear. BS could yell at him later.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “My mentor is… intense at times.” In a cold and distant way.

“Mentor?” Phantom asked.

“One of the people helping me practice my powers, test my limits. Comes with the program. It’s not just a babysit and a nice suit,” he joked casually.

“Oh…” Phantom’s tone was odd. It made Roman want to come closer and offer comfort. He didn’t though. They weren’t at that point yet. Not by a long shot.

“Listen, I admit I was sent by the chief. But I didn’t come here to recruit you. I wanted to thank you and tell you… If you ever need someone to talk to, to help you figure something out… I’d be more than happy to oblige. No need to tell me your name or anything about yourself,” he vowed as he reached out his hand. Phantom hesitated for a few moments before bridging the distance and offering his own.

Roman grinned and grabbed it for a firm shake. “I’ll see you next time,” he assured his fellow hero before letting go and turning around to finish his patrol.

Progress was made. Not much, but still.

He just might’ve made a new friend.

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

End of this part meet Virgil and read his story.

Masterlist

[larougie]

caffeine stains and library books

genre: college/coffee shop au

pairing(s): bang chan

word count: 3.2k

description: With college kicking your ass, what exactly are you meant to do, when you spill that fifth cup of coffee over that very. Very. Expensive textbook. Apparently he didn’t have any good ideas either.

Finals were going to be the death of you.

You were seriously considering the option of dropping out and just working in a supermarket for the rest of your life, and it had gotten to the point where breaking into the office for the test answers wasn't seeming like such a bad idea. You'd been renting a tiny studio apartment for the last two years, but the limited floor space was currently overtaken by piles and piles of notebooks and loose sheets of paper with rushed notes scribbled over them. Your old textbooks with folder corners and bashed ends were all stacked against the wall in a corner beside your bed, and you only took one out from the pile at a time. Those books were worth more than your life at this point, and you swore to yourself that you’d never lose them. But currently, the one book you were poring over wasn’t even yours. 

Eventually, you knew that the rent payments and college fees would catch up with you - especially considering your current lack of employment - but you had hoped that your bank account would hold out until after the final exams and until you could go job hunting in the summer break. As fate would have it, it was a little bitch, and you had no such luck. You had a few options before you had to start selling kidneys, but none of them seemed appealing and you simply just did not possess enough hours in the day. Of course, there was always one major expense on your debit card every month, but you weren't sure if you were ready to give that one up.

Turns out, you were perfectly content to use textbooks borrowed from the library and return them after the exams, as long as it meant that you didn’t have to stop going to the little cute coffee shop a few minutes off campus. You spent most days frequenting that cafe, sitting in the corner with your old laptop and the borrowed books, sipping on a coffee way too hot for your taste buds. Now, when you had called your best friend, asking for advice on what to do because you were about to lose your apartment, he had, of course offered the logical solution of - Stop spending so much money on coffee. 

But you had a dilemma. 

See, you told Minho that you studied in the corner of the cafe because the atmosphere was calm, it helped you focus, and to not buy a coffee would be incredibly rude, but he knows you very well. Too well, actually, it's quite terrifying sometimes. You definitely weren't going to the coffee shop to stare at the cute barista who had been working there for the past few months, that was definitely not why you were spending extra, unnecessary money on coffee. Or, that's what you tried to convince Minho of at least.

It wasn't a one sided infatuation though, and that was your saving grace in this situation. You'd been dropping into this specific cafe for about a year now, after trying all around the campus to find a decent cup of coffee that wasn't overloaded with sugar. Even before the barista boy had added himself into the mix, you knew that this was going to become a regular addiction, and his addition to the staff only cemented that fact. You really wish you had the guts to ask his name, because he already knows yours. However the universe worked, he always seemed to be working when you came in at random hours of the day, and he always seemed happy to take your order at the register. Give it a few weeks, and as soon as you entered the cafe through the small door, he was ringing up your coffee on the machines behind him. You were his “regular”, as the other staff members liked to tease him. 

Sometimes, when the cafe quiets down in the later hours of the evening, he’ll still be working and you’ll still be typing up that essay that was due in a few hours. He’ll put on some music from his phone, and put it into a small glass to amplify the sound so you could hear it. The first time he’d done it, he’d been constantly checking back at you to see if the volume was annoying you or if you were looking at him. To be honest, at first the music did distract you a little bit, but you were too enamoured with the way the boy danced quietly to the music as he cleaned down the tables to ask him to turn it off. 

Soon enough, most of the songs he played you had made their way onto your study playlist. You put your earbuds in and listened to the music as you studied in the cafe, and when the barista turned on his own playlist - only then would you remove them. He’d always catch you staring at him as the cafe began to empty, the unspoken question of “are you going to put your music on soon?”

You’d always turn bright red when he caught you staring, and look away so fast it should have given you whiplash. You figured that he never approached you about it because it was too awkward of a topic and you had made him feel too uncomfortable. The truth was, he did want to talk to you, but he had neither a reason nor the confidence to stroll up and strike a conversation. He had noticed that one of the textbooks you often dragged with you to the corner looked oddly familiar, but he guessed it was because he had taken that class as a junior last year, and shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

You were five or six cups of pure caffeine into the study session, and before you looked up you already could tell it was getting too dark for three pm. As you lifted your eyes from the screen in front of you for the first time in a while, and rolled your head back onto your shoulders, your wandering eyes caught sight of the time displayed on your laptop. Oh. Oh. The cafe is closed now. Had been for about twenty minutes. You turned your head quickly around the shop, looking for people and found no one. You wondered why no member of staff had come up to you yet asking you to kindly leave the building, but they all seemed to be preoccupied behind the kitchen doors. Seeing an ideal time for an unnoticed escape, you packed up all your things in record time, shoving them haphazardly into your bag and bolted out that door. The chime might have alerted the staff to someone leaving, but by the time anyone had made it to the front counter to see the door - you were long gone.

Pulling an all nighter was never a fun proposition, but you undertook the task more often than you’d like to admit. See, your reasoning behind that was Procrastination was key to a passing grade, and, yes, so far that certain theory hasn't failed you, but it was definitely taking a toll on your mental health. But, you dug your own grave, time to lie in it.

You take it back, you hate this. It's four am. What's the treble clef. Tchaikovsky is that you. All the notes are one big long line. Minho send assistance. 

Its official, university is going to kill you and tonight is the night you finally keel over. Rubbing your eyes you roll back the chair you've been curled up in and lift your arms to stretch over your head- 

Your hand hit something. Probably a pencil. Or that water bottle. You lifted one eyelid slowly, peering at the offending object. Oh the coffee mug, yeah that makes sense you don't drink water. The coffee mug that was now slowly pouring the cold brown liquid over the textbook that was open at the top of your desk. The textbook that you couldn’t afford to buy yourself because you were a broke college student and rent and living expenses took priority. 

It took a moment to register.

Oh no. oh christ, you had to return this back to the library in a few days - you couldn’t pay another late fee! The lady at the library desk really didn't like you, and always seemed to go out of her way to make you pay the full fee, despite you showing her your student ID multiple times. It was probably because you never returned books on time, but that was beside the point, isn't she meant to be understanding? You were a uni student for crying out loud, the stress. 

The point was, you had now completely destroyed a very, very expensive textbook that you didn’t have the money to replace - the words were bleeding into each other and slowly becoming illegible right before your eyes. The librarian was going to hang your head from the archway. You re-iterate, college was going to kill you. Just maybe, not in the way you expected.

Picking up the phone, you frantically press on the first contact you see.

“Minho?”

“Sup dumbass.”

“I’d bitch at you, but it's fitting for the situation, help me. Please.”

“... Who’s dead.”

“NO ONE’S DEAD I JUST- murdered a very expensive textbook that I don’t have the money to replace, and the librarian is signing my death warrant.”

Minho sucked in a breath from the other end of the phone. “Eesh y/n, you sure it wasn’t one of those loan-on-loan books from the last shelf?”

You press the phone between your shoulder and your ear, snagging the paper between your fingers and pulling the hard-bound book towards yourself. You pushed the pens and pencils out of your way and sent them scattering onto the floor in your haste, and flipped to the back of the cover to see the words On Student Loan.

“About that,” you mumbled, crumpling your head into your hands as the phone clattered to the desk beside you. You could hear Minho laughing on the other end, and you huffed to yourself. “I called you to give me advice, you horrible person, not to lauGH at my misery.”

“Okay okay I,” Minho tried to catch his breath, coughing slightly, “It's not the end of the world, is it? It's a Library book. Explain it to the lady at the desk, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Sure, Min. Thanks.”

“No problem, babes.”

“Ew no.”

“Whatever babes.”

You hung up the phone with a sigh, and let your head hit the desk again, before yelping as the wood left a red mark on your skin. It couldn’t have been just a normal library book? The universe has to hate you right now? No, instead it had to be one of those stupid textbooks that seniors lent to the library from past courses for the younger years to borrow. It was someone else’s book. That they had bought and studied from, and were expecting to get back from the library once the year was over. In the top corner of the stamp, the senior’s name who gave it to the library was printed - Bang Chan.

That was familiar, wasn’t it? You had heard that name being called out around somewhere, by a group of boys. You rattled your brain around, trying to think where you had heard that name before - you knew it sounded like you’d heard it before. In your lectures, on the roll? No, he was a senior and he wouldn’t be in any of your classes. Around on campus wouldn’t make any sense, you walked around with music on all the time, you couldn’t hear when people called your own name out, let alone anyone else’s. 

In the? Cafe? Possible. Very possible. Well, it's worth a shot, he could be a friend of someone who works there. 

What you planned to do once you had found this Bang Chan is beyond you, but you had a general idea of apologizing profusely, attempting to stutter out an explanation between that and tossing in a promise to repay him for destroying it but just not right then because you didn’t have money, hence why you can’t just buy your own textbook and not borrow ones from the library. Hopefully, he’d be a nice enough guy and won’t take your destruction of his music book to heart. Hopefully. 

So, come the next morning, you took one last long look at the destroyed pile of papers held together on your table - still waiting to wake up from this nightmare - and left your apartment with your bag swung over your shoulder. You locked the door behind you, and began the short walk into your first hour of lectures. 

You knew you couldn’t get to the cafe before two pm, but that didn’t stop you from checking the clock every few minutes to see if there was a chance you could dag out of the hall. Five past one turned into ten past two, and by the time your lecturer was finishing up her last slide you were already turning off your laptop and putting it away into your bag. 

Your heart was in your mouth as you walked slowly up to the cafe. You didn’t even know why you were so nervous, but you guessed it was just because of a guilty conscience. Pushing open the door slowly, you looked up from your shoes and instantly made eye contact with the one, the only. Barista boy. 

Great, this is going to be embarrassing. 

Swallowing your pride, and your slight disappointment that your first real conversation with the guy is going to be about looking to find another boy, you began to move up towards the counter where he was standing.

“Your usual?” He asked, with a small smile.

“I, uh. No actually, I was wondering. Do you know if - of, sorry, of. Do you know of a Bang Chan, by any chance? I think he studies music in my university.” Your hands were fumbling with each other in front of your hoodie.

The boy in front of you furrowed his brow slightly and tilted his head, stating “Present?”

Oh cool, you destroyed a cute barista boy’s textbook who is actually Chan, the guy you’ve been looking for is the guy you’ve been thirsting over. Great stuff. That's the end of you. Rip in pieces.

After that, you started blabbering out everything. Word vomit, and no stomach medication was stopping this. 

“Christ okay, this is gonna sound absolutely horrible, but did you lend one of your music theory textbooks to the library by any chance? Well, heh, of course you did, I have it and I was using it for a while - like for study not for anything else that would be weird - I’m a music major you see, and I - the textbooks are really expensive this year? And I just couldn't afford them with my rent as well but you obviously don’t care about that bit-”

He put up a hand to stop you, and you took a deep breath. Softly, he said, “Yeah, I remember I left some of my older textbooks in the library because I didn’t need them for notes anymore. Is there a problem with one of them?”

You stop. 

“Well, yes? Technically? But it's totally my fault - you see, a few night ago i kinda, totally on accident destroyed the book when I spilt coffee over it, and I’m so sorry, i really am and I promise I’ll find the money to repay you for the book, I just don’t have that kind of cash on me right now, I’m so sorry.”

Chan pursed his lips, looking at you with his head lifted up slightly. He chuckled softly. Oh boy he’s so mad, there went your chance at dating the cute barista boy, because newsflash he’s going to hate you for the rest of your life and, you looked again at his face. He was smiling now. The small lips had broken into a beaming smile that spread across his face like sunshine on a stupidly adorable field of flowers. 

“You know i've been waiting for a reason to talk to you for the last few weeks.”

His voice broke the rushing of your thoughts around your head, and you flipped your eyes up to meet his in shock.

“So now it kinda seems like you owe me a favour right?”

Words. Come on words.

“Uh, yeah i guess? I'll have the money for you as soon as possible. I promise I'm so sorry-” you stammered out, clearly confused by the situation but still extremely grateful that he was taking the news of his mutilated music book so well.

“It's okay! Seriously, I never used that thing anyway. But instead of paying me back for the book, how about we say you just - owe me a favour?”

Your bank account screamed at you to say yes, so you did.

“Uh, sure?”

When you said you'd owe him a favor, this isn’t what you had meant. 

“CHAN I'M GOING TO KILL YOU.”

He only laughs at your threats, running around the back of the sofa and tossing a pillow at your face to block your view. You bat it away in frustration, rejoining the chase, and your socks skid on the wooden flooring as you slide around the furniture in pursuit of your assailant. Chan runs into the bedroom and closes the door, you hot on his heels and you reach the door seconds after it clicks shut. As you slam open the door, and skid into the room, you stop in your tracks. You survey your surroundings, looking for any indication of where the menace could be hiding. The curtains twitch from the wind coming through the open window, and you shift your stance to face the billowing fabric. When your guard is down, he takes his chance. 

With a strangled battle cry, Chan leaps out from behind the door and tackles you down in one swift movement. You fall with an ungraceful yelp onto your bedsheets, banging your knee on the foot of the bed as you tumble into a heap. You land on your back, the breath knocked out of you as Chan sits triumphantly atop your legs, pinning them down. He smiles down at you like the angel that he is. 

Staring amusedly back up at him, you jerk your uninjured knee, flipping the two of you over so you were on top and he was staring up at you. You tilt your head, and smile at him like he had smiled at you, and the two of you break out into laughter.

“You made me hurt my knee.”

“I didn't make you do anything.”

“Wow, such care. Such emotion. Much love. Not even an offer to kiss it better.”

“I think i have a better idea.”

 Yeah, maybe this wasn't exactly what you had in mind, but by god, was it a million times better.

You still had that library book by the way. It was sitting underneath your desk, caffeine stains and all.

[morganeuk]

The Doctor & the Librarian. (Sherlock AU)

Part 2: Brainy is the new sexy

(Read Part 1: Kissing is not required on Tumblr)

Summary: Three days before John talked (wrote in fact!) to a sassy librarian that helped him on a medical case but gived him a fake name…Now, he’s desperately want to talk to him again! 

“Who gives a false name at work?” Molly’s peals of laughter wake John from his daydreaming about a librarian! “Did I just say that aloud?” I totally forgot that I was at Bart’s on my lunch break! This is ridiculous!

“Yes, man, you did!” His friend Mike replies with a big smile. “You don’t see your face right now, you’ve got it solid man… Come on, what’s the story?”

“Have you found someone interesting? Oh John, I am so happy for you!” Molly often thinks about the ex-army doctor.  He’s always so lonely, except at work.  No girlfriend or boyfriend, no real contact with his family, no other friends, it is kind of sad after all he went through… “And WHAT… You don’t know her name? This is funny!”

“It’s a he, I think or it is also bullshit…” John mutters. “This is silly, just a mirage that will never become anything.” The high that he got after talking with his colleague about the diagnosis, because of the librarian’s cunning ability two days ago, was now gone.  I am stupid; I can’t fall for someone from a ten minutes discussion on a bloody helpline… Pathetic!

Looking at his friends, and with the promise that they won’t laugh at him, he relates with a defeated expression the short discussion.  "I contacted the Oxford Library helpline because I was needing an article to confirm a diagnosis, you know that case Churchill was rambling about? I spoke with a librarian, really sassy… As I am neither a student nor a member of staff he couldn’t give me the article because of licensing issues or whatever. He asked me to give him the symptoms… and confirmed my diagnosis in two minutes.“ John was still flabbergasted by the skills of the man. Or woman, God, this is ridiculous!

"He’s a intelligent bastard, for sure, and that’s was it?” Mike was glancing dubiously at his friend.

“It’s not all, he… I don’t know how to explain it, but he was able to… read me? deduce me? After only a few words he could tell that I was an ICU doctor! It’s more than being intelligent, he’s brilliant! And even after he was aware that I am a doctor, he put me in my place once or twice.” John has not been interested in someone like this in a long time.

“I think it’s wonderful!” Molly warns Mike with a not so soft kick under the table “… and we support anything you want to do to find him!”

“That’s the worst thing… I searched for him in the library directory, but no librarian is called William. He didn’t text me back and I don’t know what to do next…” He theatrically laid his head heavily on the cafeteria table with a big profound sigh. I’m back in college again!

Mike, finally unable to control himself, laughed out loud. “I can’t believe this, you give your REAL phone number to a bloke after 10 minutes…OUCH! Molly!!!!” Molly, who kicks her friend with all her strength (and the help of one of her pointy shoes), looks angelic and smiles as Mike narrows his eyes at her.

“Sorry, mate.” Mike was massaging his ankle under the table. “If you feel something this strong, you should find a way to get in touch with him. Have you tried to contact the helpline again?”

“Yes, a few times. But it’s not him… It’s some boring professional who would loooove to help but can’t because I’m not an ‘oxfordian’. Not a sassy, talented, curious, sexy librarian!”

“You can’t know if you’ll find him attractive, darling.” Molly was looking at John with sympathy.

Mike, having wisely moved out of reach from Molly’s point shoe, couldn’t resist. “Yeah, maybe he is an absolute geek with oily skin full of acne; or it’s an old man with hairs in his nose or a fifty-year-old man with a loving wife and three kids. The only thing you know for sure, it’s that he’s brainy!”

“Brainy is the new sexy…” John replies with a definitive tone, ending the discussion before going back to work.

That evening, John was once more in front of his computer.

Let’s try one last time… If I still came to nothing, I will go to Oxford! Oh God, I’m crazy… And what should I say? Hi! I’m looking for an unknown librarian, probably a man, and I hope really sexy, can you help me?

For the third night in a row, John sits in front of his laptop. Not wanting to ask directly 'Is it William?’, he inquired each time about something that should trigger a feisty reply. A simple question: “Is it possible to access to Oxford electronic resources outside the Campus?” should be perfect to trigger the inner sassiness of his librarian. So far, the responses are always similar No problem sir, do you have your ID number near, I will help you step by step. (Definitely not William!)

Ready, a fresh cup of tea nearby, he clicks on the now familiar, 'Talk to a Librarian’ link.

Help desk: How can I help you?

Guest: I have question.

Help desk: Good think you click on that link then… Go on and don’t be boring!

(Oh My God! It’s…)

Guest: Is it possible to access to Oxford electronic resources outside the Campus?

Help desk: Yes and everything is already well documented on our web site. You do know how Internet works, right?

(It’s him… A workplace can only have one cheeky sexy bastard or the whole ecosystem will collapse in on itself! Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in…)

Help desk: Are you still there? You know, it may be better for you to use only things in hard copy… we have a really wonderful collections of rare books and…

Guest: … William?

Help desk: (…) Yes?

Guest: It’s John, from the other night. (…) you remember, the diagnosis you helped me with?

Help desk: What can I do for you?  You’re still not a member of this institution I suppose?

Guest: Eh no, I’m not. (…) I just want to let you know that it was the right diagnosis and doctors are treating the patient accordingly.

Help desk: That’s… good?

Guest: Yes, it is! At least they know what they are dealing with.

Help desk: Is that all? I’ve got work to do.

Guest: What are you doing right now?

Help desk: You want to know what I am doing? Why?

Guest: I’m curious.  I know that you don’t do shelving or work the circulation desk and that you are not supposed to be on the Help desk line… but otherwise, nothing!

Help desk: It’s nothing that would interest you. Good night.

Guest: Don’t go!

Guest: William!

Guest: You didn’t log out, I know you can read me.

Guest: I’m curious, that’s all. I want to know more about you. I know nothing about you except you’re a librarian. You already guessed that I’m an ICU doctor…

Help desk: I DON’T GUESS!!

Guest: Gotcha!  But really, do you have something to do more interesting than flirting with me?

Help desk: Is it flirting? You can’t flirt with an unidentified man. I could be married with kids or old enough to be your father.  

Help desk: Or a serial killer.

Guest: I can say for sure that you’re not a serial killer (…) I don’t know what you are doing to me, but every time I think about our last conversation I can’t stop smiling.

Help desk: It’s only the satisfaction of solving a case. (…) It’s a familiar feeling I can appreciate.

Guest: Is this why you become a librarian? To find things, clues… Discover answers in the chaos of all the information?

Help desk: Yes, something like that.  (…) I (…) I need to keep my mind occupy.

Guest: You’ve got something like ADHD?

Help desk: Yeah… something like that.

Guest: What are you doing when you are not helping a helpless, 35-ish years old, blond, globally in shape and single doctor?

Help desk: Are you back to flirting?

Guest: I’ve never quit ;-)

Help desk: sigh… ok I will reply to your question seriously then you will let me go back to work.  I’m a librarian in-situ, that’s mean that I’m working in a faculty, directly with the professors and the researchers and helping them in their projects. I’m doing the help desk only when nobody else is available.

Help desk: Satisfied?

Guest: Yes :-) Ta. This is a great job to participate in the creation of new knowledge and discoveries. That’s pretty impressive when you’re thinking about it. One more thing and I’ll let you go.

Help desk: What?

Guest: Your real name? Please…

(Help desk is disconnected)

Shit… He picked up his cup of tea and slowly sips the now lukewarm liquid when a musical 'bing’ resonates in the room. Opening his phone, he reads the new text message from an unknown caller.

“It’s Sherlock. -SH”

He quickly saves the number and the name in his directory. The hope of something new, anything, brings a huge smile to his face.

Read the complete series here! http://archiveofourown.org/series/770607

[fallforcs]

The Tutor

Art by: @jell-obeans

Author: @blackwidownat2814

Summary: How long does it take to honest-to-God fall in love with someone?  A week? A year? This was not something that usually went through Emma Swan’s daily thought processes.  She prided herself on keeping away from any kind of attachments, be it friends or just men in general. She wasn’t a man-hater, she just saw men for what they were: assholes.  Assholes who thought she owed them something after just one date or thought her weak and tried to take advantage of her kindness. She swore she wouldn’t fall for a nice guy with a pretty face.  But somehow, she still ended up in her current problem: quite possibly, most definitely,maybe, in love with The Tutor.

Rating and reason for the rating: I think the rating is either General or Teen, simply because I use 2 or 3 different ‘curse words’ a few times.

Trigger warnings: None

It all started a year and half before.  Emma had only been working at Storybook Public Library for three weeks when she met him…

~*~*~*~*~*~

A Year and a Half Ago…

“Emma, are you good to run the desk on your own for a bit?” asked Belle.  She was the head librarian of Storybrooke’s small public library and Emma’s savior when she came looking for a job just a month ago.

“’Course boss!” Emma called.

“I told you not to call me that!”

“I know!”  Emma smiled as she made her way out to the reference desk in the middle of the library.  She took a seat behind the computer and pulled up her ebook to keep her company. She had barely started the latest chapter of ‘ Dead to the World’ by Charlaine Harris, when she realized she wasn’t alone.

Emma looked up and the elbow she was using to hold up her head while she read slipped off the desk, surprising her immensely.  The man before her was beyond gorgeous, even with a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay love?”

“Wha–”  The man pointed to her elbow.

“Your elbow, you’ve hit it.  Are you okay?”

“Oh!  Yeah, yeah.  Nothing a little embarrassment won’t take care of.”  Emma took a deep breath and put on her customer service smile.  “What can I help you find today sir?”

“I just need one of the study rooms please love.”

“Sure, just need your library card to sign you in.”  The man place his briefcase and small stack of books onto the desk counter and pulled out his wallet to fish through it for his card.  Once located, he handed it over. “Name?”

“Killian. Jones…and if you’ve one of the larger rooms, could I please have that one?”

“Of course.”  Emma slid Killian Jones’ card into the binder that held the IDs and library cards of patrons using the study rooms and handed back a key with a number one hanging off of it.  “There you go.”

“Thank you.”  He picked up his things and turned to leave for the study room, “By the way, if little Roland Locksley asks for me, could you point him in the right direction?”

“Sure.”

Sure enough, Roland, and his dad Robin, showed up 15 minutes later.  About an hour later, they were both met near the front desk by Robin, who conversed with Jones with Roland wandered over to chat with Emma.  At six years old, Roland was a cute kid with ‘dimples for days’, as Belle liked to say often.

“Hi Miss Emma!”

“Hey kid.  How are you?”

“I’m okay.”  He came around the desk and sat next to her.  “Uncle Killy says I’m doing much better!”

“And what does Uncle Killy say you’re much better at?”

“He’s teaching me to read better!”  His smile dropped before he continued, “I wasn’t doing so good after my mommy went to Heaven, so Daddy asked Uncle Killy to help me.”  Emma saw his face begin to crumple and took his little hands in hers.

“Hey…I know what it’s like to lose someone like that.  If you ever need someone to talk to, you can come talk to me too, okay Roland?”

“Yes Miss Emma.”  He jumped in her arms and gave her a big hug.

During their small talk, Killian and Robin had turned their attention to the two of them.  Many years later, Robin would say that he knew the exact moment Killian Jones fell in love with Emma Swan.

~*~*~*~*~*~

One Year Ago…

Emma was writing up some ideas for library programs when a shadow fell over her.  She looked up to see a smiling Killian Jones.

“Hey Killian.  What can I help you with?”

“Afternoon dear Swan.  Could I have one of the study rooms please?”  Emma took his library card and stuck it in the folder and handed him the key.

“So, how are Roland and the others doing?”

“Swimmingly, Swan.  They’ve shown marked improvement and Roland’s favorite part is getting to see you afterwards…as is mine.”

Emma felt her cheeks beginning to heat up and she ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her smile.  She couldn’t let him see that he affected her, so she steeled herself and looked back up.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”

“Only to the ones I can’t wait to see every day.”

“Uh huh.”

“So, Swan, I was wonder–”  Before Killian could continue, he was interrupted by Leo Nolan and his father David, Storybrooke’s Sheriff.

“Mithter Killian!” Leo cried, jogging over to his tutor.

“Inside voices now lad, we are in a library”, he replied.  “We wouldn’t want the Lady Swan to get mad at us, would we?”  Leo shook his little head and smiled up at Emma.

“Sowwy Mith Emma.”  She leaned over the desk and ruffled his blonde hairs.

“No worries Leo, just remember for next time, okay?”

“Yeth ma’am!”

“Well lad, let’s get to work, shall we?”  Leo hugged his dad bye and Killian offered his hand to the little boy and they went over to their assigned study room to get to work.

“He’s a pretty nice guy you know”, said David as he leaned on the reference desk.

“Of course he is, he’s your son”, Emma replied as she typed something up.  “You and Mary Margaret wouldn’t raise anyone less.”

“I wasn’t talking about Leo.”

“I know you weren’t.”  She sighed and looked up from her computer, “Let it go David.  It’s never going to happen.”

“He likes you Emma.”

“So?  I liked Neal and look what that asshole did to me.  I liked Walsh and we just don’t talk about him. ”

“Not every guy that show’s an interest is a dick.”

“Yeah, well…in my experience, they have been.”

An hour later, when Killian was done with Leo’s tutoring, he was back at the desk after seeing Leo off to David.

“Hello again Swan.”

“Hey Killian.”  She looked up from her work once more, to see him just standing there, fidgeting and scratching behind his ear.  “Do you need something else or…?”

“Swan…Emma, uh, I was wondering if you might, um…”  Emma couldn’t help but smile lightly at his shy demeanor when he was usually so open and flirty with her (and any woman probably, she thought to herself).  “…like to get a coffee or a meal with me sometime?”

“Killian…”  Not looking at Killian, Emma sighed and reached up to fidget with her necklace, the main reminder she held that no man is ever to be trusted, no matter what, because they will turn on you.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”  

Many a man had called her an ice-hearted bitch, and maybe she was from time to time, but in this moment, something about the way the big and shy smile melted from Killian’s face at her rejection, made her feel especially like an ice-hearted bitch, and she didn’t even go full tilt when she said no.  Especially when, after looking down at the floor, he looked back up at her and he had the fakest smile she’d ever seen on his face. Something like that didn’t belong on Killian’s face.

“In that case, please forgive me for disturbing you Miss Swan.”  

Killian picked up his briefcase from where he had set it on the counter and she saw his left hand in full view for the very first time since they’d met:  there were scars all along the fingers and patches of burned and slightly pink-tinged skin all around it. Emma hadn’t meant to stare, she really didn’t, but Killian caught her and now even the fake smile was gone.

“It’s not polite to stare Miss Swan”, he said with a hard tone.

“Oh, um…I’m sorry Killian I did–”  She tried apologizing but he cut her off before she could finish.

“Forget about it”, he said, and without a goodbye or any parting word, he spun on his heel and left the library in a hurry.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Two Weeks Later…

She hadn’t seen him in a couple weeks and she was so sure it was because of her.  The kids still came for tutoring, but it was with Mary Margaret instead.

Finally, after she couldn’t take it anymore, Emma stopped Mary Margaret one afternoon to ask after Killian.

“Hey Mary Margaret?  Can I ask you something?”

“Hey Emma.  Sure, yeah. What’s up?”

“Why are you here?”  Nothing the confused look on her friend’s face, she backtracked.  “What I should’ve asked was why isn’t Killian here?” Mary Margaret gave her a smug smile, like she knew something Emma didn’t.  “No, don’t even start.”

“He’s on vacation.  He went to see his brother’s family in Boston because his sister-in-law just gave birth to their first”, she said.

“Oh, okay.”

“He should be back in a day or so.”

And she was right, because two days later, Killian was back at the library tutoring the kids.  When he stopped at the desk to return his key and get his card back, Emma gave him a small smile.

“I heard you went to see family.  How are the new parents doing?” Killian huffed a small laugh, but didn’t look her in the eye.

“Mary Margaret sure doesn’t know how to keep things to herself, does she?”

“Not really, no.”

“I’m just glad I haven’t told her any of my other secrets.”  Killian stuffed his card into his wallet, and turned back to her.  “Elsa and little Alexander William Jones are doing perfectly, thank you for asking.  Anyways, I’ll see you on Friday…Swan.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

10 Months Ago…

After the disasters that were her relationships with Neal and Walsh, Emma had told herself that she didn’t need nor want someone to share her life with.  She was perfectly fine with her usual way of scratching the itch with a one nighter.

Emma refused to fall for his charm and pretty face and flirtatious nature.  No! She wouldn’t have a crush on him. It was only inviting trouble into her life.  He would realize how broken and messed up she was and he would realize she wasn’t worth the trouble.  Killian would leave her, just like everyone else in her life had.

The only problem was that her resolve was starting to break down.  With each and every day he came in to the library and tutored the kids and showed them how proud he was with their progress, the ice around her heart melted a little more.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Eight Months Ago…

Emma watched as Killian sauntered over to chat with Rose (nicknamed Tink/Tinkerbell by the kids because she reminded them of the famous Disney pixie), one of the new librarians, over at the Children’s Desk.  Tink did everything right: smiled at him and laughed at different things he said.

Emma knew she was screwed when she saw Killian do the thing where he scratched behind his ear, just like he did before he asked her out.  She watched as Tink smiled at Killian and nodded, grabbing a paper from the desk and scribbling something down on it, then handing it over to him.  He did his shy smile and stuffed the paper in the pocket of his pants.

Killian turned to leave and waved at her as he walked out the front door.  After he’d left, Tink came bustling over with a giant smile on her face.

“Emma!  You wouldn’t believe it!”

“Uh, believe what?”

“Killian!  He asked me out on a date this weekend!”

“Oh…wow.  Congrats.”

“We’re going to that nice restaurant on the harbor.  I’m just so happy! I’ve had the biggest crush on him since I saw him in town.”

“I’m sure you two will have an awesome time and make beautiful babies.”

“Won’t we?”  

Tink went back to her department with an enthusiastic wave and Emma…well, she felt lonelier than ever.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Five Months Ago…

Three months.  She’d had to endure (what she sarcastically called) their lovey-dovey state.  He didn’t come over to talk to her at the Reference Desk that much anymore…and it killed her because she’d (reluctantly) become his friend since he’d started coming to tutor the kids at the library.

After being bugged and pushed and prodded by Belle and Ruby so much, Emma was willing to admit that she had a crush on Killian Jones…and that was it.

“It is not it Emma…”, said Belle, “…and you know it.”

“Yeah, if this isn’t more than a crush, then I’m a werewolf AND Little Red Riding Hood”, replied Ruby.

“If anything, you’re in love!” said Belle.

“Please.  I’m not in love with him.”

“Yes you are!” both women said and they began to sing.  “Emma and Killian sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love–”

“FINE.  Fine! I like him okay?” Emma whisper-yelled, looking towards the door of the library breakroom, making sure Tink wasn’t around.  Ruby and Belle both gave her a Look.

“You like him?” asked Ruby.

“Yes!  Yes I do!  I don’t love him…at least not yet, but I’m definitely on the road to falling, as cheesy as that may sound.  He makes it really hard not to like him and not to fall a little bit in love with him each day.”

“Aw, Emma!” exclaimed Belle.

“I mean, you’d have to be stupid not to like him.  The way he’s with the kids? So patient and loving and helpful and ugh!  I sound like some pathetic high school nerd who likes the jock and will never get him because he’s with the head cheerleader who’s more beautiful and not perfect and I need to shut up.”  She took a deep breath and kept talking, effectively cutting off Ruby who was about to speak. “And yeah, I am jealous.  Every time I see them together, it hurts a little more than the last time I saw them.  It kills me because the one I should be mad at is myself because it could’ve been me. He asked me out like, six months ago and I said it wasn’t a good idea and I just…”  Emma sighed and then stood up from the table. “Look. Just drop it, please?”

“Yeah, sure”, replied Ruby and Belle nodded from next to her.

“Thanks guys.”  Emma took her place at the desk for the rest of her shift, only making small talk with Tink when she wandered over later in the afternoon to wait for Killian.  Emma made sure to be in the restroom when he arrived, not sure she could look him in the face after her realization earlier.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Three Months Ago…

Emma was walking back to the library after her lunch break one afternoon when she saw Killian and Tink talking right in front of the doors.  She decided to hang back until the finished their conversation and really did try not to listen.

“Why, after all this time?  You could’ve said no five months ago”, she heard Killian say and then a sigh from Tink.

“I was being selfish, Killian, I liked you so much.”  Tink paused to take a deep breath, “But I still knew how you felt and I thought that maybe, by being with me, I could make you forget it and get over it…and maybe I could be the one to make you smile and blush and happy in your life.”

“You do make me happy!” he cried.

“Then why do you still come here?”

“To see you.  It’s so that I can see you every day love.”  Killian was beginning to sound exasperated. “And it’s where I do my work with the children.”

“We can see each other every day at lunch”, replied Tink.  “And you can work with the kids at theirs or yours or even the school, you don’t have to keep coming here.  I know why you do, and it’s because of her .”

“Tink, please…”

“I should’ve realized you were in too deep with your feelings towards her, that’s my fault.”  Tink paused for a moment. “I’m not mad though…and I don’t harbor bad feelings towards either one of you, but you have to admit it.  Admit to me that you love her.”

Emma stood stock still around the corner, waiting on bated breath to hear Killian’s answer.  He did a deep sigh.

“I do, I love her.  But she doesn’t love me or like me like that even a bit, so why does it bloody well matter?”

“Because she does Killian, she’s just like you, too scared to admit things sometimes, too hurt by others to trust, but that’s okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

They were both quiet for a bit and Emma was on pins and needles, wondering who she’d be losing Killian to this time.

“Look, despite everything, I care about you Killian.  It’s just…this isn’t going to work. I’m letting you off the hook.  Know that I will always care about you and that I do love you, just not like that.  And who knows? Maybe one day long in the future, if things don’t work out and you’re ready to move on, give me a call and I may be available”, Tink said.

“I’m so sorry Tink”, said Killian.

“It’s okay.  I wish it would’ve worked though, but I can’t compete with Emma Swan.”

Emma’s eyes went wide.  She immediately turned and ran towards the small building her studio apartment was housed.  Once there, she texted Belle saying she wasn’t feeling well and would be out for a few days.

~*~*~*~*~*~

One month ago…

Emma was glad to be back in Storybrooke.  After a tense month, Emma decided she needed time away.  She’d spent the last month basically avoiding Killian by asking Belle to change up her schedule so that she wouldn’t be there when he would be doing tutoring.  Emma also tried to make an effort to be nicer to Tink and tried her hardest to not let on that she’d heard the entire conversation between Tink and Killian.

Despite that, Emma still just needed time.  She needed time to think and clear her head and decide what to do.  Should she tell Killian she liked him? ( Oh my God, I sound like a teenager!  I am a God damn adult! I need to grow up! )   Should she just pick up and find work in another small town and move away?  No, because however much she wanted it, she needed to actually be the adult she claimed to be. And Emma wouldn’t be that adult if she ran away from her problems…again.

She had some of her savings to spend two weeks on a cruise that went around Italy and Greece, somewhere she’d always wanted to go but never thought she’d be able to.  No one really knew where she was exactly or what she was up to, just Belle and Emma made her swear on the library that she wouldn’t say anything to anyone.

While on the trip, as she sat on a beach in Mykonos, Emma came to a conclusion: she was in love with Killian Jones.  It wasn’t because he was gorgeous as all get out and had an accent to die for (Emma wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t that vain), it was because he was a good man, a kind-hearted man who took time out of his day to tutor children in one of the most important things they could ever learn, because if they couldn’t read or understand what they read, they wouldn’t be able to learn anything else.  Emma also found out that not only did he take the time to tutor the kids, but that he did it for free (thanks for not being able to keep secrets Mary Margaret!).

Emma was just a bit nervous on her first day back.  Belle had told her that Killian was upset when he didn’t see her for a few days and Belle explained that her hours had changed, but wouldn’t tell him what they changed to.  But when Killian discovered no one had seen her for days on end, and Belle refused to tell him anything, he became anxious and very concerned. He would come into the library every day and nag Belle into telling him something, anything , about Emma’s whereabouts.

She was shelving some books with her back to the desk when she heard the squeak of the hinges of the library door and realized it was probably Killian arriving for his tutoring session with Alexandra Boyd.  Sure enough, a few seconds later, he was standing at the desk waiting for someone to help him.

“Hi Killian.”

“Swan?”

“How are you?”  Killian surprised her when he scoffed indignantly.

“ ‘How are you?’ ” he spat.  “Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?  I’m trying to be nice.”

“It’s been two months Emma!”  Belle stuck her head out from around the corner near the Circulation Desk.

“Um, Killian, would you mind keeping it down?  We are in a library.”

“Stay out of this!  You helped her lie!” he whisper-yelled.  Belle just rolled her eyes and held her hands up in surrender, backing away and back to her spot at the front.  

“Don’t you dare take this out on her!  Your problems are with me!”

“That’s the point Swan, I have no problems with you!  I’ve been worried is all!”

“I don’t need you to worry about me.  I was on my own as a kid, then I was on my own after Ingrid died.”  Emma folded her arms and took a deep breath, “Besides, don’t you have a girlfriend to worry about?”  Killian pursed his lips into a thin line and he looked at the floor.

“We broke up.  Tink and I broke up a couple months ago.”

“Why?”

“She wanted to see other people.”  Even if she hadn’t heard the conversation between the couple, granting her knowledge of the truth, Emma would know he was lying.

“Ha.  Now who’s the one who’s lying?”

“I’m no–”

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret: I can tell when people are lying to me.  I always have. That’s why my work before I came here was as a bounty hunter. So let me ask you again: Why did you two break up?”

“I’ve already bloody said why.”

“Then I guess…we’re done here.”  Emma turned to leave and go to the back, but Killian tried to go after her.

“Swan…”

“I’ll see you around Mr. Jones.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Now…

He stopped tutoring the kids at the library on the days she was there, just like she’d done those months ago.  The first few times, Emma thought it was because he just needed a couple days to cool down. After a week, she knew why he wasn’t there: he was avoiding her…or he was done with her.  Her insecure self, deep down, was telling her that that was why he wasn’t coming to the library when she was there anymore.  Emma wanted to find him, to apologize for avoiding him, and to tell him the truth about how she felt.

Emma was lost in thought when she was accosted by a little body.

“Miss Emma!”  Roland squeezed her around the waist.

“Hey kid, how’s it going?” she asked.

“Pretty awesome!”  Roland let her go and took a seat next to her at the desk.  “Uncle Killy says I read perfect for my age now!”

“That’s awesome!”  Emma’s heart was in her throat at the mention of Killian.  “Hey, kid? Is um…is your Uncle Killy here?”

“Yup!  He’s up front talking to my Papa.”  Roland pointed towards the front circulation desk where it looked like Robin and Killian were having a quiet argument.  “Hi Papa! Hi Uncle Killy!”

The men looked over at Roland and she saw Killian’s eyes widen when he saw her.  He turned back to Robin and they just lightly glared at each other until Robin smacked him on the arm and said,

“ Go .”

“Fine.”  Killian came over to the desk and spoke to Roland first, “Your papa needs you lad.”

“Okay!  Bye Miss Emma!  Bye Uncle Killy!”

Killian and Emma watched as Roland went back to his father and they both waved as they left.  After they were left alone, before Emma could say anything, Killian turned back to face her.

“Why were you avoiding me?”

He looked at her with a pleading look and just pure love in his eyes.

“You’re the one that stopped coming here.”  Killian looked away and scratched behind his ear.

“I’m sorry Swan.  I did so because I didn’t think you wanted to see, since I was lying to you and refusing to admit the truth to myself.”

“What truth?” Emma asked with anticipation.

“I will tell you, but you have to answer my question first: Why did you avoid me all those months ago?”

Emma looked away and wrung her hands together; it was going to be now or never.   Time to nut up or shut up Emma, you need to tell him.  She took a deep breath and looked back at Killian.

“Because…because I think I fell in love with you, okay?   That’s why I avoided you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Some time later…

“So that’s how you fell in love?” she asked.

“Yes my Cygnet”, Killian replied with a wide smile.  “Your mum made me work hard for it. I got scared and spent time with Auntie Tink…”

“But she’s married to Uncle Jeff!”

“I know darling, but this was before she met Uncle Jeff.  Your mum and I were both scared but in the end, like I’ve been telling you this whole time, we found the strength to come back to each other.”

“I’m glad or I wouldn’t be here, right Papa?”

“You’re very right, Miss Meara Jones.”  Killian pulled his little girl into a big hug.  There was nothing greater than one of Meara’s hugs.  After a little while, they were interrupted by a small cough by Dr. Whale.”

“Mr. Jones, Miss Jones?  She’s ready to see you.”

“Thanks Victor!”  Meara hopped off of Killian’s lap and hugged Victor’s legs, who squatted down to her level when she let him go.

“You have to promise me one thing though, Princess.”

“Anything!”

“You have to be a little quiet because your mommy is going to be tired and you don’t want to wake anyone, okay?  You promise?”

“Yes sir!”  Victor high fived Meara and she tiptoed down the hallway, followed by Victor and Killian.

“Thanks mate.”

“No problem man, after all, she introduced me to my wife.”

The two men shook hands and parted, Victor going off to check on his other patients and Killian followed his daughter into his wife’s hospital room.  He took Meara’s hand and they went up to the bed where Emma sat speaking quietly to the bundle in her arms.

“Hi mummy!” whispered Meara.  “Can I sit with you?”

“Of course.  Killian, would you?”  Killian smiled and lifted their four year old up onto the hospital bed.

“Meara, we’d like you to meet your little brother: Wesley Oliver Jones.”

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Resource Management, pt15

Word Count: 2903 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @anotherotter @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @anotherotter  @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock @dolamrothianlady @curiositywillbethedeathofme @superheroesofbothuniverses @mtriestowrite @wanderingkat77

Erin hadn’t even gone through the stack of paperwork she had dumped on me. I was surprised, to be honest. She was usually a little more diligent when she was turning over assignments. Maybe she was as angry as she appeared. I started flipping through the reports and sorting them according to which form they were. Then I alphabetized them. Then I went back and ordered them numerically, as I realized that we’d switched from names to ID numbers. Once I had everything sorted, I started checking each ID number against the casualty list from the attack and deactivated every report that no longer needed to be assessed. It was late in the afternoon by the time I had got that far. It was boring and thankless, and I needed a break. I poked my head into Erin’s office to see what she was working on.

“Hey, I’m going to run down to Starbucks for a latte. Want anything?” I asked. She looked up and smiled.

“I’ll come with.” She pulled her purse out and followed me out of the office. “How are those reports coming?”

“Erin, you should have told me you were so far behind on them. I could have helped you,” I admonished her. A scowl flashed across her face, but just as quickly vanished. I was sure she was hoping I hadn’t noticed.

“We had a lot come through while you were at the academy. I figured I’d be able to catch it up this week. Until Fury downgraded my clearance,” she grumbled.

“Where have you sent your resume?” I asked. Erin stopped and gave me a look of surprise.

“Oh my god, I was just blowing off steam, Annie!” She exclaimed. “I have no intention of finding another job. I was just pissed off.”

“Could have fooled me,” I commented as we turned into the Starbucks. She fell silent as we stepped in line.

“Do you think I should be looking?” She suddenly asked.

“Well, you’re obviously not happy. Venti non-fat London Fog please.” I handed some cash to the barista, and turned back to Erin. “Maybe you should be looking for somewhere safer.”

“Do you think my job is in jeopardy?” Erin pressed. I accepted my change and looked at her, long and hard. I could feel myself giving the ‘are you an idiot’ face to her.

“Erin, if you don’t follow through with what the director wants, your life may be in jeopardy. Isn’t that more important than a paycheque?” I demanded. “I mean, really. I get that this is not what you signed up for, but we’ve entered an arena now where risk-negation is far more important than personal pride. Don’t you think you’re being a little childish?”

“Wow. Tell me how you really feel,” she snapped as she paid for her coffee. We moved toward the pick up area. I could feel my cheeks flushing and my heart thumping in my chest.

“Okay, I will. I very nearly fucking died last week. I was a target in that attack. Everyone in our department that was at work fucking died except for me. So forgive me if I’m a little sensitive about this, but grow the fuck up. Fury is trying to keep you safe and alive as well as keep SHIELD running. If that means you need to put on a pair of runners and do five K, or take your fucking sidearm to the range and learn to defend yourself, maybe you should. Be more proactive about your personal safety. And if you really don’t want to take those steps, then yes, I think you should be looking for a new job at a different agency,” I retorted. The barista handed my tea across the counter. I snapped a lid on it and walked out, not waiting for Erin.

When I got back to the office, I tossed a ‘do not disturb’ note on the door and shut it before getting back at the stack of reports. I connected my phone to my console and put my favourite playlist on to keep the outside distractions down and then started pounding away at the pile. It shouldn’t have taken Erin more than a few hours to resolve what she’d given me, and I was determined to get it done before I went home. I kept my head down and pushed through, completely losing track of time. There was a tentative knock at my door on the third repeat of the playlist. I looked up as Stark opened the door. I raised an eyebrow at him. Tentative was not in his nature.

“Hey,” I looked back down at the report I was working on as he sat down across from me. He kicked his legs up and crossed his ankles on my desk

“Your receptionist was just locking up when I arrived. She said you haven’t left your office since three.”

“I had a pile of crap dumped on my desk that should have been managed while I was away two weeks ago,” I explained. “It’s been a long day.”

“But Coulson sent hugs and kisses in his text message. You should be all swoony,” he teased. I groaned and opened my phone. I pulled the tracer sticker off and tossed it in the garbage, giving him a smug look.

“Stay out of my text messaging,” I said, for emphasis. Stark just laughed.

“Where are we going for dinner?” He asked.

“We are going nowhere for dinner, Stark. Anna and I have an actual date. No work tonight.” Phil caught Stark off guard, and Stark rocked back in the chair just enough that he lost his balance. There was some undignified limb flapping, and his feet crashed to the floor before he regained his balance.

“I know when I’m not wanted.” I had to hand it to Stark; he knew how to play the wounded drama queen. He rose and walked to the door, his face a mask of exaggerated sadness. I looked at Phil and back to Stark.

“You are not wanted, Stark. However, I think we should get together tomorrow and go over what we know and what we’ve discovered.” Phil gave Stark the bland smile that I’d learned was his business fuck-off. Stark glanced my way and seeing the set of my jaw, sighed.

“Fine. I’ll bring my secret decoder ring tomorrow and we can find out who’s been stealing the lightbulbs from Old Man Johnson’s backdoor.” He swept out of the office, leaving Phil and I in confused silence. I looked at Phil and back at the door and cracked up. Phil shook his head.

“So tell me about this coded message.” Phil and I were sitting in my living room, eating Thai take-away. I took a big mouthful of noodles and chewed.

“Kate’s grandma called today. She’s Kate’s next of kin,” I started, and took a sip of my beer. “I figured she was calling about Kate’s life insurance, but she wanted to tell me all about this hornet nest she had in her yard years ago. She said something about smoking it, so the hornets left it but were calm, and then setting off a bug bomb, and then burning the nest so they couldn’t come back. I thought she must just have Alzheimer’s or something, but when I looked in Kate’s file, it showed her grandma had been a field agent.”

“What’s Granny’s name?” Phil asked.

“Cecelia Banks,” I answered. Phil choked on a mouthful of Pad Thai. I smacked him on the back and handed him his beer. He took a drink and coughed a couple time to clear his throat.

“Cecelia Banks? Jesus, she’s legendary,” he coughed again. “Her name is constantly being brought up at the academy. She discovered a cell of traitors in the 60s, and she wasn’t sure how deep it went. So she planted false information about a project she was working on to root them out. When she knew the extent of the infiltration, she exposed the works. Basically burned the nest so there was nothing left. That was a fucking brilliant analogy. No wonder they say she was one of the best.”

“How could she possibly know the importance of sharing that story with me?” I puzzled.

“You should go offer your condolences to your friend’s grandmother,” Phil recommended.

“That’s an excellent plan. I’ll see if Barton can meet me earlier tomorrow so I can drive up. She’s in Philly. Think you can get away and join me?” I asked. He nodded.

“Yeah. Fury has asked me to keep an eye on you anyhow.”

“I thought you were the mysterious security detail,” I laughed. “Natasha was quite concerned that she didn’t know who you were.”

“How did that go today?” He asked. I launched into an explanation of my training time, and how incredible Natasha was. I mean, Phil knew what I was talking about, so I really had no need to be so descriptive, but it had been an excellent session, and I could feel the ache settling into my muscles. Natasha was a tough teacher, and was going to challenge me, and I liked that. Phil leaned back on the couch and watched me as I gestured and tried to demonstrate stuff we’d done all alone. The indulgent smile, and loosened tie, combined with his completely relaxed posture and lazy grip on his beer bottle made me stop, midsentence and just look at him. I cocked my head to the side and smiled. He raised his eyebrows.

“What?” He asked. I shook my head and collected our plates and took them into the kitchen and brought us each another beer. I climbed onto the couch beside him and stretched my legs across his lap. He wrapped an arm around my knees as I leaned into his side. When I handed him the beer bottle he smirked.

“I know it’s a little early in the week for a two-beer-evening, but I’m feeling a little less invincible tonight. I feel vincible. Is vincible even a word?” I asked. He laughed and kissed my forehead.

“I’m not sure.” He ran his hand along my bare leg. “Is this what you wore at work today?”

“Yeah. Why?” I started pulling the pins out of my bun and fluffing my hair.

“Complete with your glasses there on your blouse all day?” He nodded toward where my glasses were tugging at the front of my blouse.

“Yeah. Why?” I asked.

“I got a text earlier today asking if Librarian Dominatrix Barbie was my new girlfriend or if it was The Other One.” He put air quotes around Librarian Dominatrix Barbie and The Other One. “I guess Librarian Dominatrix Barbie is my new girlfriend.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or amused. I chose to be amused. It wasn’t the first time I had been compared to Barbie. It wouldn’t be the last. I could be offended every time, and point out the obvious differences: my boobs weren’t that big, my waist wasn’t that small, I wasn’t tall enough, my panties weren’t permanently molded onto my body and I was able to bend at the waist. Or I could roll with it, and let people underestimate me. It was probably to my advantage to let people underestimate me.

“So do I smack you around with a riding crop or a dictionary?” I teased.

“Well, if you have a dictionary, maybe we can look up vincible before you start hitting me,” he chuckled.

“Be forewarned. All my dirty talk tonight will be in words of no fewer than four syllables,” I taunted, whispering in his ear.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever looked forward to castigation and deprivation more.” He leaned across my legs and placed his beer bottle on the table, then took mine and put it beside his. He lifted my legs off his lap and slid across me, pinning me under him on the couch.

“Hey! I’m supposed to be Dominatrix Librarian Barbie. Get off!” I protested. He shook his head and smiled. I briefly considered flipping him off me, but in the end, I let him stay where he was. He was warm, and his hands were rough and it was exactly where I wanted to be after my day.

While Phil was in the shower, I sent a quick email to Erin to let her know I was going to be out of the office for the day. I clicked through the other emails and saw one from Barton in response to my message about changing our training time. I quickly responded by text message to let him know I was available until ten, and by the time I’d hit send, Erin had emailed back, demanding to know why I wasn’t coming in. I opted to phone her instead.

“What the hell, Annie? You chewed me out yesterday and then locked yourself in your office for the rest of the afternoon and now you aren’t coming in today?” She snarled into the phone instead of saying hello.

“One of the casualties from the attack had a dependent grandmother, and she phoned me yesterday. She wasn’t making any sense. I need to go see her to find out what needs to be put in place to ensure her safety. I think she has dementia.” I was not going to rise to the bait.

“And no one else can do that?” The venom was just dripping through the phone at me.

“Considering she called me, I thought it prudent that I check into this myself. If she has some sort of memory loss, it might help to hear my name.” I hoped that made sense. I knew nothing about dementia.

“Fine, whatever. Do whatever you feel prudent, Madam Director.” Her tone was contemptuous. It was time to rise to the bait.

“You know what? Don’t bother coming in today either, Erin. You can take a day without pay for insubordination,” I replied coldly.

“Fuck you. I don’t answer to you. Unless Fury tells me to take the day off, I’m not staying home.” The line went dead.

“That went well,” I sighed.

“What was that about, princess?” An unfamiliar male voice asked from the kitchen door. I dropped the phone and whirled around. It was Barton. How he’d got in was beyond me.

“Jesus Christ, Barton!” I gasped. “You scared the shit out of me.”

I prayed that Phil had head us talking, but I could hear the shower still running. Barton looked through my cupboards for a coffee cup and sat down to drink his coffee. I leaned against the counter, between him and the hall to the bathroom and my bedroom, hoping to somehow intercept Phil before Barton saw him.

“Hey, Annie?” Phil’s voice floated down the hall. “Can you toss my shaving kit to me? I left it at the front door.”

I closed my eyes and fought to keep my face calm. I knew Barton would have noticed the shoes at the door, so he would be expecting my boyfriend. But he knew Phil well, and I was just hoping he wouldn’t recognize his voice. I turned to get the shaving kit from the entry, but when I moved to head down the hall, Barton blocked me, and took the bag from me. Without a word he walked down the hall and knocked on the door. I stood, frozen in place, where he’d left me. Phil opened the bathroom door. Barton dropped the shaving kit into Phil’s hand, turned and walked back to the kitchen. He sat down and looked in his coffee cup and up at me and then back to his coffee cup.

“What’s in my coffee?” He asked.

“Nothing,” I answered. The look on his face made my blood run cold. Barton’s eyes narrowed and he was across the kitchen and had me against the fridge in seconds.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS IN MY COFFEE?” He screamed at me. Phil was in the doorway of the kitchen in a flash, towel around his waist, sidearm drawn and trained on Barton. If I hadn’t been so fucking terrified, I would have laughed. He only had half his face shaved, and the other half was still covered in shaving cream.

“Let go of Director Ellis, Barton,” he ordered. Barton looked at Phil, then at me. He looked back at Phil and his face fell. His grip loosened and he slowly let go of me, without taking his eyes off Phil. I saw a tear snake down his cheek and without realizing what I was doing, I reached out and rubbed his shoulder. He pulled away from me without looking in my direction. Phil lowered his weapon and placed it on the counter beside him. Barton took two steps to cover the distance between them and reached out hand to Phil. Phil, aware of his partial nudity, intercepted the gesture and turned it into a handshake.

“This isn’t the way I would have liked to tell you, Clint, but –“

“Jesus Christ, Phil?” Barton pulled him into a bear hug. Phil looked so incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. He patted Barton’s back stiffly, and then extricated himself from Barton’s arms. He backed up a few steps, grabbed his sidearm and pointed at the bathroom.

“I’m just going to go get dressed. I’m sure you have questions.”

[loisinherlane]

Title: The Domino Effect, Chapter 3

Summary: The fall of Domino had changed the Mag ical . Dimen.sion forever. Without a keeper of the Dr agon . Fla.me, there was no one fairy powerful enough to defeat the An cestral . Witch.es, the  threat of their return loomed over all who remembered the war. For those who didn’t, the war seemed to be a distant event, nothing of concern–until three new witches arise, seeking the same power their ancestors had nearly gained. Their power search seems futile without the royal line of Domino, and yet they somehow found the Dra gon . Fla.me. (AU where Bloo .m never followed Stella to Alf .ea. Series rewrite.) Chapter 1, AO3

Notes: This isn’t out as fast as I’d hoped it would be, I know. Life’s been hectic. However, I’m decently pleased with how this chapter turned out, so hopefully you’ll all enjoy it as well. Now, the rest of this note will be spoilers, but if you watched Winx Club’s first season, you already know it anyway. I did decide to go ahead with the switch of Sky and Brandon. I debated about whether it was necessary, but in the end, I decided I liked the dynamic shift it created. You may also notice that Bloom seems to be pretty . . . okay in this chapter. I don’t want to spoil anything for the rest of the story, but I can promise you she’s not just jumping from freaking out to fine. I have reasons. I do intend to handle her emotions over the course of S1. But that also means S1 Bloom will be rather volatile at times, considering the situation she’s in. The last thing I have to say is that I’ve been in a bit of rush to get this out, so I know it may not be perfect, even though I had a great friend look over and catch quite a few mistakes. But if you’re confused about anything in this chapter, I can bet 90% of the time it’s intentionally ambiguous to be revealed later. It never hurts to ask though, and I’m always happy to answer questions if I made something too unclear. Thank you all who are reading this.

There was laughter downstairs.

Their house had never been much for soundproofing. Bloom had always complained that her parents were too loud sometimes, waking her up when they weren’t careful. Now, she wished there was a little less. She couldn’t hear what was going on. But, no, it had gone silent. Were her mom and dad alright? They’d told her to run, and she’d had no path to the door. She’d barely made it upstairs.

She couldn’t even tell what was going on. They’d grabbed her, and then-- They took so much. She felt weak. Her back to the wall of her bedroom, she could do nothing but sit still, heart pounding in her chest. She froze when she heard her bedroom door creak open. It was them.

No. It was Kiko. He hopped slowly, gracefully, over to her side, staring up at her, his big brown eyes always so serious. She fainted as a warm light surrounded them.

-

Episode 3

We’re Not in California Anymore, Kiko

-

The library at Alfea was under the protection of many charms and spells, renewed each summer and winter, one added every five years. Having so much knowledge locked away inside its shelves, this was warranted, and this made the library just about the safest place in Alfea--and the hardest to enter. Students could only just access the first chamber; anything beyond required special permissioMiss Barbatea was understandably surprised to find a teenaged girl collapsed among the restricted shelves.

“Why do students seem to think this is a place to hide after a night out partying?” she lamented, reaching to sense the girl’s ID--but she didn’t have one. Miss Barbatea’s hand froze over the girl’s wrist, and she moved her hand back and forth a few times, but no. There was no charm to identify her. Not even one of the standard charms families used to signify what planet they hailed from. This girl was definitely not a student at Alfea. Miss Barbatea yelped in surprise--fear?---which seemed to disturb the girl’s slumber.

She sat up slowly, her flame red hair flickering around her. The girl’s arms trembled under her own weight as she pushed herself up, and slowly, she turned her eyes toward the librarian.

“Wha--? Where am I?” she mumbled, voice thick, but not of sleep. Not of any of the mind-altering spells students dabbled in. No, that was dark magic. Miss Barbatea had enough experience with what lied in the restricted shelves to sense that.

“Young lady, what have you been doing?” Miss Barbatea demanded, hoping the girl would have some respect for authority and submit. But the girl stared blankly before scuffling in a panic, eyes darting all around.

“I-- ah-- Mom and Dad-- Kiko! Where’s Kiko?” Whatever lingering effects clouded her mind prevented her from rising to her feet to search. But as chance would have it, a small blue rabbit nudged a book on the bottom shelf out of the way so he could squeeze through and bounce into the girl’s arms. “Kiko! Oh, you’re okay!”

“Young lady--” Miss Barbatea interjected.

The girl lifted her head, as if noticing her for the first time. “Where am I?” she wondered, clutching the rabbit tightly to her chest.

Miss Barbatea took a slow breath. “This is the Alfea library,” she said pointedly. Perhaps the girl would get a sense of how much trouble she was in. Unfortunately, though her eyes clicked with recognition for a moment, it seemed to have no effect. “I’ll need you to come with me to see Ms. Faragonda.”

The girl didn’t protest, shifting the rabbit to one arm and grabbing the backpack that had been lying on the ground beside her before rising to her feet, though she asked, “Who’s Ms. Faragonda?”

Perhaps the girl had amnesia. That could be the only explanation. Of course she didn’t seem to be overly confused, but . . . .

As they walked through the halls, students stared in abject confusion.

“This is Alfea,” the girl said lightly. She paused as she looked down the hall, eyes landing on the Solarian princess. Stella? Yes, Stella. Stella didn’t notice the unusual happening, more occupied with arguing with Professor Wizgiz. Her two friends, however, turned. The small, gruff-looking girl examined the stranger curiously, while the other, the plump girl, caught her eye.

The girl turned abruptly, hurrying after Miss Barbatea.

Ms. Faragonda’s office was empty for once, save for the woman herself sitting at the desk, skimming over some or other papers. She looked up briefly, stopping as if she’d seen a ghost.

“I found this girl in the library,” Miss Barbatea began.

The girl piped up. She seemed unaware, or uncaring, that she ought to wait for the adults to finish. “How far is this from Gardenia?” At the blank look she received, she added, “California? The United States?”

Miss Barbatea looked to Ms. Faragonda.

Finally, the girl looked resigned. “This isn’t Earth, is it?”

-

“Who was that girl earlier?” Musa asked, stuffing one of the dinner rolls in her mouth. “Sh’wuss, wookin’a you fu-y, Ste-a.”

The other girls at her table gave her a disgusted look. Musa hurried to swallow.

“Come on. That girl! Flora, you saw her too.”

Flora lit up. “Oh! That girl. Yeah, she was looking at Stella.”

“I didn’t see a girl,” Stella said.

“It was after Wizgiz’s class. You were talking to-- She had red hair. Like crazy bright red hair. And she was holding a blue rabbit.”

The words meant nothing to Stella. She raised a brow, lips tugging into a befuddled grimace.

“It was pretty odd,” Flora continued. “She was with Miss Barbatea. But I’ve never seen her before.”

“Perhaps she was an upperclassman who’d been partying?” Tecna suggested, absently stirring her coffee. “I know a few girls have a competition to see who can get the furthest into the library.”

“No. She looked our age,” Musa said decisively. She jammed her fork into one of her vegetables. A few of the nearby students looked appalled at her table manners, but most had learned that Musa didn’t care.

Flora was more hesitant. “I guess she could have been. Maybe she knows Stella from last year.”

“I don’t know anyone with red hair,” Stella insisted. She took a large bite from a chocolate chip muffin. Oh, if Sky could only see her like that. She’d never let him. Vanity to vanity, perfect matches.

“Well--” Musa stopped, looking over Flora’s shoulder.

“Miss Igarra?”

Flora stiffened, turning around. “Ah… Miss Griselda…”

“Your roommate did not arrive this year, did she?” Griselda interrupted.

Flora glanced to her friends. “Um… No…”

“And you paid for a double,” Griselda continued, more declaring than questioning. “We will be hosting a guest at Alfea, and she will share your room. Take care to make space for her by tonight.”

Murmurs spread around the table. There were no secrets in a school of teenage girls. “A guest?” But no questions were to be answered, as Griselda left just as quickly as she’d arrived.

Flora’s heart sank. What sort of girl would this be? At least with Varanda, she was able to do her research. Now, she wasn’t going to know a thing about this girl. Worse, Griselda seemed entirely unrepentant about thrusting some stranger at her in the middle of the school year. Flora didn’t pay for a single, so what did it matter? She stared blankly at the teacher’s gaunt back, wishing she had the heart to glare daggers.

“Oh, Flo,” Musa said, swinging an arm over her shoulder. “It will be okay. Tecna and I get along great.”

“Which is statistically improbable,” Tecna countered, her fingers flying over her tablet. “Especially considering that all of us get along well. From what I’ve gathered, many of the girls here believe that there’s always one person in a dorm who causes issues.”

“Hey, you’re off the hook, Stella!” Musa said with a bright smile.

Stella pursed her lips around her straw, staring off into the fading sunlight over the floor. She didn’t seem to hear anything they’d said. “Maybe that’s the girl you saw earlier.”

“You think-- hm,” Flora murmured. It was possible.

Still, it left the big question: Who could be important enough to be a guest at Alfea?

-

The name on the door was written beautifully. “ Flora Igarra,” loopy letters, pretty, but not overly polished. Bloom wondered if she’d be allowed to add her name. Then again, she didn’t know how long she’d be staying. The headmistress--Ms. Faragonda--had questioned her for quite some time. Well, questioned was a loose term. What she did was ask questions, odd ones, never anything directly. She seemed less interested in what Bloom know, but rather what she didn’t.

(“Miss Peters, I know your stay at Alfea will not be traditional,” the headmistress had said at the end of their meeting, rising slowly. Her age showed in her features, but her movements were impossibly graceful, something Bloom could never hope to achieve. “However, I do hope you’ll find yourself comfortable here.” She’d then reached for Bloom’s wrist, casting some sort of spell.)

Bloom didn’t understand. She didn’t want to ask. She was more worried about being thrown out onto the streets. For now, though, the headmistress had only told her to spend the mornings with Miss Barbatea in the library and most afternoons in Ms. Faragonda’s office. She would stay in the dorms, like a student, eat in the dining hall, like a student, and be allowed off campus, like a student.

(“No offense, but aren’t you worried I’ll run off or something?” Bloom had asked. After she’d been asked to sit down, Kiko had scampered off on the floor. He’d eventually hopped onto Ms. Faragonda’s lap, then to her desk. Faragonda merely stared at him, amused.

“I don’t believe you have anywhere else to go,” she’d replied.)

After that, Ms. Faragonda had taken her to the library and shown her how to use one of the library computers. Bloom suddenly understood why her dad was always yelling about new-fangled technobabble. This was nothing like the computers on Earth. She managed to use it to order a decent amount of clothes. Ms. Faragonda had assured her that as a guest of Alfea, she was under no obligation to pay for anything herself, in the case of necessities. Clothes were to Bloom’s discretion, but other items would be sent to the dorm she was staying in. By the end of their time in the library, Bloom had a small case of luggage, enough that she wouldn’t have to do laundry for two weeks. It was more than she’d arrived with. Bloom had to be grateful.

When Bloom was sent off to the dorms, she’d expected to move in somewhat undisturbed. It was a dumb hope. The girls in the lounges stared as she passed, and it wasn’t long before girls were peeking out of their rooms to look. Once safely inside the lounge area of her new suite, she sighed in relief. That led her to the door where she now stood, staring at the name of her new roommate.

Flora. Maybe she’d be nice. Bloom knew a little about flowers from her mom, so hopefully she could fit in. Bloom took a breath and opened the door, clutching the handle of the bag tightly between her fingers.

The girl on the bed looked up, startled. She looked entirely unthreatening, unlike most of the student body. She didn’t smile, though, and that left Bloom a little unnerved.

“Hi. Um. I’m Bloom. I guess I’m . . . staying here,” she said. She moved to the free bed and set down her bag.

“I’m Flora,” the other girl said after a long moment. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before reaching for a hair band and tying it up into a bun. “I suppose you’ll need me to clear out the other wardrobe. I have some plants in there.”

So Bloom’s guess that she was a plant girl was right.

“Well, this”--Bloom nudged her suitcase--”is all I have, so no rush.”

Flora merely nodded in reply, her bright green eyes almost peering into Bloom. Bloom felt too uncomfortable to look her way any longer and sat down, pulling her suitcase into her lap and reaching for the clasp.

“Yeowch!”

Bloom’s hand slipped, and the suitcase fell to the floor with a clang, the contents spilling onto the floor. Before she could even look, Flora was off of her bed and reaching to the pot that had fallen over--and wailed, apparently. So the plant could yell. Lovely.

“Oh, Ferellicus, are you alright?” she asked, stroking one of the plant’s roots that had slivered out of its pot. From behind, Kiko poked his head. Bloom was silent before giving him a stern look.

“I’m sorry. That’s my rabbit. He nibbles on everything. He’ll even chew the walls,” she admitted, figuring it was better to tell Flora than any of the staff. She didn’t seem like she’d snitch.

“Oh, he won’t chew the walls here. Magical protection. Makes it taste like canterberries.” Bloom’s face must have given away that she didn’t know what canterberries were, much less what they tasted like, because Flora added, “Terrible. My mother used to flavor anything she didn’t want Miele to chew on with canterberry flavoring. Didn’t stop her from chewing on the staircase railing though.”

Bloom gave a quick nod as she slid off of the bed, ruffling the comforter slightly, to pick up her fallen clothes.

“I’m sorry, I know this may be rude to pry like this,” Flora began, “but I-- I have to know. Where exactly did you come from? Having a guest at Alfea is . . . unprecedented.”

And so the questioning started. Bloom really couldn’t answer much. She didn’t know what was going on herself. But she supposed she could answer some. “Earth,” she said softly. Maybe that would be the only thing she’d have to say.

Unfortunately, by the look of Flora’s face, that just brought on more questions. “You’re from Earth?” she asked. “And . . . you’re a fairy?”

Bloom shifted uncomfortably. “No,” she said. “Just . . . a guest. Ms. Faragonda is, um . . . She wants . . . .”

“If Faragonda’s doing something with her, you’re probably not going to find out what’s really going on.”

The voice came from the doorway, and both Bloom and Flora zipped around to see the tall blonde leaning on the door frame. She smiled at Bloom but made no other sign of recognition. “Trust me, hon, even if you think you know what she’s doing, you don’t. Faragonda is like the most powerful fairy there’s been in a long time. But you can trust her. Whatever you’re stuck here for . . . She’ll take care of it.”

The more Stella spoke, the more attention she drew. Two voices began to ring out from across the lounge, and the door on the other side slammed open, smacking against the wall as two more girls stumbled out of their room to join Stella in the doorway to Bloom and Flora’s room.

“I didn’t know new girl had arrived yet,” the Asian-looking one remarked. She waved. “I’m Musa. Nice to meet you.” 

“Tecna,” the other said. Bloom waved awkwardly.

“Oh, come on, girls, let’s not overwhelm her,” Stella said. “She needs to settle in. We’ll go sit in the lounge, and you can come chat with us when you’re ready. Okay?”

That seemed to end the fighting, and Bloom found herself in an empty room, ready to unpack and settle in. It didn’t help much. But she grabbed her bag and decided to focus on the task at hand. One thing at a time. That’s all she could do.

-

Kiko was enthralled with his new surroundings. If Bloom would have let him, he’d have hopped down and trotted to the foliage for a treat. As it was, he had to settle for nibbles of Flora’s plants until they grew irritated enough to shoo him off. Bloom wasn’t too interested in his exploits. It felt as if the situation was just sinking in. Mom, Dad . . . Andy and Silena . . . She had no idea what had happened to them. She didn’t even know if they were alive. Worse, Ms. Faragonda had said there was no way to get in touch with anyone on Earth, at least, not until she did some more research.

Ms. Faragonda hadn’t said she couldn’t tell anyone what happened, but Bloom didn’t really feel like addressing it. It only made it worse that she was staying in the same suite as Stella, the crazy princess fairy. Stella had made it clear with far from inconspicuous hand gestures that she didn’t want anyone to know of her detour. She still nice, of course, but Bloom wasn’t sure if she was ready to confide in her.

Everyone was nice, really. Flora seemed very sweet, just a little put out with the change. Musa and Tecna seemed curious but politely maintained distance. They’d invited Bloom to go out with them (“You ought to see Stella moon over Sky.”), but she’d declined. Now, all alone, she almost wished she’d gone, overwhelming as the crowd might have been.

Bloom was just ready to turn in for an early night when a rock flew through the bars of the balcony and hit her square between the boobs.

“Ow! Are you an expert marksman or the worst?” she snapped, leaning over the rail to see her assailant. It was a boy about her age, average in practically every way, with dirty blond hair and big blue eyes. He looked rather guilty, a sight to see from a teenage boy.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t aware you were sitting so close to the edge,” he said. “This is . . . Miss Bloom, right?”

Bloom crossed her arms over her chest, discreetly rubbing at where the rock had hit her. “Maybe. Who are you?”

The boy made an elaborate bow designed to distract from that fact that he wasn’t really dipping all that low. Bloom knew her fairy tales, and bows were so complicated. But he clearly didn’t think she was someone worthy of a real bow--or at least, he thought he had a higher social status than she did. Bloom bristled, even though it was probably true.

“My name is--” he stopped, the ‘is’ turning into a hissing sound, “Brandon Sanna.”

Bloom leaned over to look at him a little better before her fear of heights pulled her back. “And how do you know my name, Mr. Brandon?”

Brandon gave a sheepish smile, the kind that made any boy look cute. “You, ah . . . Well, I’m a squire, and my prince is dating Princess Stella, and we were all out--”

“They mentioned me,” Bloom interrupted.

Brandon nodded.

“So why are you here? To drag me out?”

Brandon shook his head. “No,” he said, a little louder to make sure she heard. “I just-- I know it must be difficult to be in a new place with strangers who already know each other. You need to see Magix for yourself, but with everyone at once . . . I imagine it would have been overwhelming.”

Bloom paused. “You want to take me out?” she said incredulously.

“We can get dinner, see the sights . . . ,” Brandon said. “I think you need a friend.”

Bloom faltered. Ms. Faragonda had said she was allowed to leave. But still . . . . She didn’t know a thing about this place. She didn’t even know this boy. But she was right. She did need to see Magix. If she was going to live here for the time being, she had to learn to adjust.

“Wait right there.”

She darted back into the dorm room, grabbing her backpack. It had all of her now useless textbooks. No need to carry those. She tossed them to the floor. Her wallet was at the bottom, but little else. She debated whether she even needed the bag--surely her license and American currency wouldn’t do her much in this place--until Kiko hopped in.

“Want to go with me, boy?” she asked with a smile, pulling the drawstrings rather loosely to allow him room to breathe. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Bloom dashed through the halls, taking the nearest staircase and door outside. She didn’t need to deal with that architecture. Brandon was waiting where she’d left him when she walked up. He did a double take, like he was surprised that Bloom was only 5’3”. She did seem to get that a lot, though at home, it was more because her parents were both almost six feet tall.

“I don’t think you need that bag,” he said.

“I think I do.” Kiko squirmed against her back, and she shuffled to silence him. He was the one who wanted to go along. This couldn’t be like at school when he hopped out and pounced around her seventh grade classroom. If Kiko wanted to come, he needed to be good.

Brandon realized it would be futile to argue and sighed. “Alright. Well, I skipped out on dinner. The girls said you’re from Earth. Does pizza sound good?”

“You have pizza here?” Bloom hadn’t imagined that anything of her homeworld--what a weird thing to say--would exist in this kind of place. Her face lit up and fell just as quickly. “Oh. But it’s probably not as good as at home.”

Brandon bit his lip. “I don’t know. I think it’s pretty darn tasty,” he said. “Wanna bet?”

Bloom rolled her eyes. “You say that because you haven’t had the real stuff. I’ll bet a quarter.”

“A what?”

They turned to leave the Alfea schoolgrounds as they spoke, Bloom’s description of money astounding to someone so used to using a wrist ID to pay for everything. Bloom, on the other hand, found it odd that everyone had their whole lives attached to their bodies.

Thankfully, they were saved an in-depth discussion of politics and privacy by their arrival at the pizza parlor. They each made an order, Brandon kindly paying for Bloom, and she had to sheepishly thank him.

“Just give me a quarter,” he teased until she actually reached in her bag and tossed one his way.

“Ow!” he said, slamming his hand to his chest to catch the tiny object. Bloom smiled innocently. “You so did that on purpose.”

“Oh, no. I just have really bad aim,” she said.

Brandon rolled his eyes and examined it curiously before tucking it in his pocket. He let her outside to the patio, ugly red plastic umbrellas the tables. Bloom had to smile at that. At least some things didn’t seem to change across worlds, and terrible outdoor furniture was one of them.

“Our pizza is better,” Bloom remarked after one bite, “but In-and-Out Burger? You haven’t lived until you’ve tried that. If you ever get a chance to go to Earth--”

Brandon shifted uncomfortably. “Actually . . . travel to Earth is forbidden.”

Bloom raised a brow. “Why?”

“It’s . . . complicated.” He was reluctant to be the one to explain, and he quickly changed the subject. “Maybe you should visit Eraklyon one day. We’re, uh . . . actually known for having weird cuisine, but trust me, other kingdoms just don’t try stuff. It’s all delicious.”

“Maybe. If I ever get the chance.” The subject of homeworlds brought Bloom down a little, made her wonder if she’d ever get to see Earth again. But Brandon was good at catching cues, and he turned it around once more.

“Are you taking lessons at Alfea?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“Stella said you were a guest. I’ve never heard of Alfea hosting a guest before. Unless you’re like . . . taking lessons or something,” he explained. “Though this is the first I’ve heard of an Earth fairy in a long time.”

Bloom hardly looked amused. “That’s sort of the reaction I get from everyone.”

“Well . . . .” Brandon shrugged. Bloom had to suppose it was strange, something to notice. But she didn’t care to be at the center of this mess.

“Alfea’s a school for fairies, right?” Bloom asked. “I don’t even have magic.” That day . . . .

Brandon paused, scrunching his big blue eyes at her.

Bloom paused mid-bite, still holding the pizza to her mouth. “What?”

“You can move through the magical barriers,” he said. “You have to have at least some magical potential.

Bloom shook her head. “No way!” she insisted. That day . . . she must have just been lucky. None of those powers Stella had insisted she had helped when . . . .

Brandon wasn’t fazed. “Bloom, listen. I know Specialists who only read a 0.0001 on the magical potential scale. They can get into Alfea. And I know Specialists who read nothing. They have to get special permission to enter. The barrier keeps them out. Likewise, it can keep people in. You wouldn’t be able to pass through the barrier if--”

“Well, I didn’t pass through the barrier. I just . . . appeared in the library.” Bloom froze. That felt like something she wasn’t supposed to reveal. But Brandon seemed so nice . . . .

His face grew solemn. “They have powerful barriers on teleportation as well. Which is magic,” he pointed out coolly. “Pretty strong too. If you could make it past--”

“I didn’t do anything. I passed out,” Bloom said.

Brandon looked perplexed by all this information. “What . . . exactly happened to you?” he asked.

Bloom thought maybe she shouldn’t tell him. She barely knew him. The girls in her suite were nice, but she didn’t know they’d take the news. Would they pity her? She didn’t need pity. Rather, she wanted to keep her mind off of things while Ms. Faragonda said she’d “look into the matter”. She couldn’t wait that long knowing that all of her suitemates were pitying her. But Brandon went to a different school. She’d probably barely see him. If he pitied her, she could just avoid him. And he was so easy to talk to . . . .

Bloom had to tell someone, and Brandon was a good listener.

[readbookywooks]

The Rogue Bludger

Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his books to them, and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. He usually picked Harry to help him with these reconstructions; so far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him. Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf. If he hadn't had a very good reason for keeping Lockhart in a good mood, he would have refused to do it. "Nice loud howl, Harry - exactly - and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced - like this - slammed him to the floor - thus with one hand, I managed to hold him down - with my other, I put my wand to his throat - I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm- he let out a piteous moan - go on, Harry - higher than that - good - the fur vanished - the fangs shrank - and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective - and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks." The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet. "Homework - compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!" The class began to leave. Harry returned to the back of the room, where Ron and Hermione were waiting. "Ready?" Harry muttered. "Wait till everyone's gone," said Hermione nervously. "All right..." She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, Harry and Ron right behind her. "Er - Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to - to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading." She held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it - I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms." "Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" said Lockhart, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it?" "Oh, yes," said Hermione eagerly. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer--" "Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year a little extra help," said Lockhart warmly, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill. "Yes, nice, isn't it?" he said, misreading the revolted look on Ron's face. "I usually save it for book-signings." He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Hermione. "So, Harry," said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players..." Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat and then hurried off after Ron and Hermione. "I don't believe it," he said as the three of them examined the signature on the note. "He didn't even look at the book we wanted." "That's because he's a brainless git," said Ron. "But who cares, we've got what we needed-" "He is not a brainless git," said Hermione shrilly as they half ran toward the library. "Just because he said you were the best student of the year--" They dropped their voices as they entered the muffled stillness of the library. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritable woman who looked like an underfed vulture. "Moste Potente Potions?" she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione; but Hermione wouldn't let go. "I was wondering if I could keep it," she said breathlessly. "Oh, come on," said Ron, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it at Madam Pince. "We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart'll sign anything if it stands still long enough." Madam Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test. She stalked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and moldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully into her bag and they left, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty. Five minutes later, they were barricaded in Moaning Myrtle's out-of-order bathroom once again. Hermione had overridden Ron's objections by pointing out that it was the last place anyone in their right minds would go, so they were guaranteed some privacy. Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her stall, but they were ignoring her, and she them. Hermione opened Moste Potente Potions carefully, and the three of them bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from a glance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very unpleasant illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head. "Here it is," said Hermione excitedly as she found the page headed The Polyjuice Potion. It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people. Harry sincerely hoped the artist had imagined the looks of intense pain on their faces. "This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," said Hermione as they scanned the recipe. "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass," she murmured, running her finger down the list of ingredients. "Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves... Oooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn - don't know where we're going to get that - shredded skin of a boomslang -. that'll be tricky, too and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into." "Excuse me?" said Ron sharply. "What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it--" Hermione continued as though she hadn't heard him. "We don't have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last..." Ron turned, speechless, to Harry, who had another worry. "D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of a boomslang, that's definitely not in the students'cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I don't know if this is a good idea..." Hermione shut the book with a snap. "Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine," she said. There were bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than usual. "I don't want to break rules, you know. I think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in. "I never thought Id see the day when you'd be persuading us to break rules," said Ron. "All right, we'll do it. But not toenails, okay?" "How long will it take to make, anyway?" said Harry as Hermione, looking happier, opened the book again. "Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days... I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients." "A month?" said Ron. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!" But Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously again, and he added swiftly, "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say." However, while Hermione was checking that the coast was clear for them to leave the bathroom, Ron muttered to Harry, "It'll be a lot less hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow." Harry woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. He was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of facing a team mounted on the fastest racing brooms gold could buy. He had never wanted to beat Slytherin so badly. After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, he got up, dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where he found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table, all looking uptight and not speaking much. As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron and Hermione came hurrying over to wish Harry good luck as he entered the locker rooms. The team pulled on their scarlet Gryffindor robes, then sat down to listen to Wood's usual pre-match pep talk. "Slytherin has better brooms than us," he began. "No point denying it. But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weathers -"("Too true," muttered George Weasley. "I haven't been properly dry since August")"- and we're going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team." Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harry. "It'll be down to you, Harry, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we've got to win today, we've got to." "So no pressure, Harry" said Fred, winking at him. As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary. "On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three... two... one..." With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch. "All right there, Scarhead?" yelled Malfoy, shooting underneath him as though to show off the speed of his broom. Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed. "Close one, Harry!" said George, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. Harry saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for Harry again. Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head. Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the pitch. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this; it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible... Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course. "Gotcha!" Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attracted to Harry, the Bludger pelted after him once more and Harry was forced to fly off at full speed. It had started to rain; Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering onto his glasses. He didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero. The Slytherins'superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to him on either side that Harry could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it. "Someone's - tampered - with - this - Bludger -" Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry. "We need time out," said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the Bludger breaking Harry's nose at the same time. Wood had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and Harry, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger. "What's going on?" said Wood as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. "We're being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?" "We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry, Oliver," said George angrily. "Someone's fixed it - it won't leave Harry alone. It hasn't gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it." "But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then..." said Wood, anxiously. Madam Hooch was walking toward them. Over her shoulder, Harry could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in his direction. "Listen," said Harry as she came nearer and nearer, "with you two flying around me all the time the only way I'm going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one." "Don't be thick," said Fred. "It'll take your head off." Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys. "Oliver, this is insane," said Alicia Spinner angrily. "You can't let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let's ask for an inquiry..." "If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" said Harry. "And we're not losing to Slytherin just because of a crazy Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!" "This is all your fault," George said angrily to Wood. "`Get the Snitch or die trying,'what a stupid thing to tell him--" Madam Hooch had joined them. "Ready to resume play?" she asked Wood. Wood looked at the determined look on Harry's face. "All right," he said. "Fred, George, you heard Harry - leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own." The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch's whistle, Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the telltale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed; he looped and swooped, spiraled, zigzagged, and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open, rain was speckling his glasses and ran up his nostrils as he hung upside down, avoiding another fierce dive from the Bludger. He could hear laughter from the crowd; he knew he must look very stupid, but the rogue Bludger was heavy and couldn't change direction as quickly as Harry could; he began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goal posts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past Wood. A whistling in Harry's ear told him the Bludger had just missed him again; he turned right over and sped in the opposite direction. "Training for the ballet, Potter?" yelled Malfoy as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in midair to dodge the Bludger, and he fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him; and then, glaring back at Malfoy in hatred, he saw it - the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear - and Malfoy, busy laughing at Harry, hadn't seen it. For an agonizing moment, Harry hung in midair, not daring to speed toward Malfoy in case he looked up and saw the Snitch. WHAM. He had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had hit him at last, smashed into his elbow, and Harry felt his arm break. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in his arm, he slid sideways on his rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, his right arm dangling useless at his side - the Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time zooming at his face - Harry swerved out of the way, one idea firmly lodged in his numb brain: get to Malfoy. Through a haze of rain and pain he dived for the shimmering, sneering face below him and saw its eyes widen with fear: Malfoy thought Harry was attacking him. "What the -" he gasped, careening out of Harry's way. Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch; he felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping the broom with his legs, and there was a yell from the crowd below as he headed straight for the ground, trying hard not to pass out. With a splattering thud he hit the mud and rolled off his broom. His arm was hanging at a very strange angle; riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched in his good hand. "Aha," he said vaguely. "We've won." And he fainted. He came around, rain falling on his face, still lying on the field, with someone leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth. "Oh, no, not you," he moaned. "Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm." "No!" said Harry. "I'll keep it like this, thanks..." He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby. "I don't want a photo of this, Colin," he said loudly. "Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times--" "Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" said Harry through clenched teeth. "He should really, Professor," said a muddy Wood, who couldn't help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. "Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say--" Through the thicket of legs around him, Harry spotted Fred and George Weasley, wrestling the rogue Bludger into a box. It was still putting up a terrific fight. "Stand back," said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves. "No - don't -" said Harry weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Harry's arm. A strange and unpleasant sensation started at Harry's shoulder and spread all the way down to his fingertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated. He didn't dare look at what was happening. He had shut his eyes, his face turned away from his arm, but his worst fears were realized as the people above him gasped and Colin Creevey began clicking away madly. His arm didn't hurt anymore - nor did it feel remotely like an arm. "Ah," said Lockhart. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing - ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? - and Madam Pomfrey will be able to - er - tidy you up a bit." As Harry got to his feet, he felt strangely lopsided. Taking a deep breath he looked down at his right side. What he saw nearly made him pass out again. Poking out of the end of his robes was what looked like a thick, flesh-colored rubber glove. He tried to move his fingers. Nothing happened. Lockhart hadn't mended Harry's bones. He had removed them. Madam Pomfrey wasn't at all pleased. "You should have come straight to me!" she raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, half an hour before, had been a working arm. "I can mend bones in a second - but growing them back--" "You will be able to, won't you?" said Harry desperately. "I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pajamas. "You'll have to stay the night..." Hermione waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry's bed while Ron helped him into his pajamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve. "How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?" Ron called through the curtain as he pulled Harry's limp fingers through the cuff. "If Harry had wanted deboning he would have asked." "Anyone can make a mistake," said Hermione. "And it doesn't hurt anymore, does it, Harry?" "No," said Harry, getting into bed. "But it doesn't do anything else either." As he swung himself onto the bed, his arm flapped pointlessly. Hermione and Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain. Madam Pomfrey was holding a large bottle of something labeled Skele-Gro. "You're in for a rough night," she said, pouring out a steaming beakerful and handing it to him. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business." So was taking the Skele-Gro. It burned Harry's mouth and throat as it went down, making him cough and splutter. Still tut-tutting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, Madam Pomfrey retreated, leaving Ron and Hermione to help Harry gulp down some water. "We won, though," said Ron, a grin breaking across his face. "That was some catch you made. Malfoy's face... he looked ready to kill..." "I want to know how he fixed that Bludger," said Hermione darkly. "We can add that to the list of questions we'll ask him when we've taken the Polyjuice Potion," said Harry, sinking back onto his pillows. "I hope it tastes better than this stuff..." "If it's got bits of Slytherins in it? You've got to be joking," said Ron. The door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived to see Harry. "Unbelievable flying, Harry," said George. "I've just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn't seem too happy." They had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice; they gathered around Harry's bed and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, "This boy needs rest, he's got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!" And Harry was left alone, with nothing to distract him from the stabbing pains in his limp arm. Hours and hours later, Harry woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and gave a small yelp of pain: His arm now felt full of large splinters. For a second, he thought that was what had woken him. Then, with a thrill of horror, he realized that someone was sponging his forehead in the dark. "Get off!" he said loudly, and then, "Dobby!" The house-elf's goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose. "Harry Potter came back to school," he whispered miserably. "Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn't you heed Dobby? Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?" Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby's sponge away. "What're you doing here?" he said. "And how did you know I missed the train?" Dobby's lip trembled and Harry was seized by a sudden suspicion. "It was you!" he said slowly. "You stopped the barrier from letting us through!" "Indeed yes, sir," said Dobby, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping. "Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterward" - he showed Harry ten long, bandaged fingers - "but Dobby didn't care, sir, for he thought Harry Potter was safe, and never did Dobby dream that Harry Potter would get to school another way!" He was rocking backward and forward, shaking his ugly head. "Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master's dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir..." Harry slumped back onto his pillows. "You nearly got Ron and me expelled," he said fiercely. "You'd better get lost before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might strangle you." Dobby smiled weakly. "Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home." He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself. "Why d'you wear that thing, Dobby?" he asked curiously. "This, sir?" said Dobby, plucking at the pillowcase. " Tis a mark of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house forever." Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make--" "Your Bludger?" said Harry, anger rising once more. "What d'you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?" "Not kill you, sir, never kill you!" said Dobby, shocked. "Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!" "Oh, is that all?" said Harry angrily. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?" "Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. "If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, sit... And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more." Dobby froze, horrorstruck, then grabbed Harry's water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby..." "So there is a Chamber of Secrets?" Harry whispered. "And did you say it's been opened before? Tell me, Dobby!" He seized the elf's bony wrist as Dobby's hand inched toward the water jug. "But I'm not Muggle-born - how can I be in danger from the Chamber?" "Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen - go home, Harry Potter, go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, tis too dangerous--" "Who is it, Dobby?" Harry said, keeping a firm hold on Dobby's wrist to stop him from hitting himself with the water jug again. "Who's opened it? Who opened it last time?" "Dobby can't, sir, Dobby can't, Dobby mustn't tell!" squealed the elf. "Go home, Harry Potter, go home!" "I'm not going anywhere!" said Harry fiercely. "One of my best friends is Muggle-born; she'll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened--" "Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!" moaned Dobby in a kind of miserable ecstasy. "So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not--" Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Harry heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside. "Dobby must go!" breathed the elf, terrified. There was a loud crack, and Harry's fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. He slumped back into bed, his eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing as the footsteps drew nearer. Next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed. "Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry's bed out of sight. Harry lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. He heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. He heard a sharp intake of breath. "What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed. "Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs." "There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter." Harry's stomach gave a horrible lurch. Slowly and carefully, he raised himself a few inches so he could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face. It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera. "Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey. "Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "But I shudder to think... If Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate - who knows what might have--" The three of them stared down at Colin. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin's rigid grip. "You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" said Professor McGonagall eagerly. Dumbledore didn't answer. He opened the back of the camera. "Good gracious!" said Madam Pomfrey. A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic. "Melted," said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly. "All melted..." "What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently. "It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again." Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore. "But, Albus... surely... who?" "The question is not who," said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. "The question is, how..." And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall's shadowy face, she didn't understand this any better than he did.