#also technically i wrote this fic in March but the last few days have been rough so um yeah | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ibis-gt · 4 years ago

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i made a fairytale au for cam and luther and then wrote nearly 5k words of fic for it?? which is wild bc i am not much of a writer. but. that’s under the cut. content warning for a pretty violent scene towards the end but there’s a happy ending i prommy

Once upon a time, there lived a prince. This prince, Luther by name, lived in a kingdom that was plagued by monsters. His father, the king, had gained his throne by feats of heroism, most notably by slaying a fearsome dragon that had ruled the land for years. The time came for Luther to prove he was worthy of the title of prince by slaying a monster of his own…

Down in the countryside, farmers have been complaining for weeks of an ogre stealing their cattle and frightening their children. So Luther sets off in a splendid suit of armor, with a sword sheathed on one hip, a quiver of arrows on the other, and his bow slung on his back.

Luther rides his horse down to the village where the ogre was last spotted. He talks with the locals and gets a description of the creature. At least forty feet tall, they say, with greenish-grey skin and dark hair and teeth the length of a man’s forearm. Luther leaves his horse behind with the farmers because he doesn’t want her getting hurt and marches off, following a set of giant footprints left behind by the ogre, sword in hand. He would have to admit that he isn’t the best at sword fighting, and that really he’s never faced a monster on his own. But his father gave him a crucial tip: every monster has a weak point. Find the weak point, exploit it, and you’ll win every time.

The footprints lead through the plains of grass, past the area where the farmers let their cattle out to graze, and into a dark forest. The sun is going down before he manages to find the ogre, so he sets up a little camp with a little fire and rests his tired bones. His armor isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it takes forever to get on and off even with someone helping him, let alone by himself. He sits with his back to a big boulder so nothing can sneak up behind him and eventually drifts off.

Luther awakens the next morning and groans at how stiff and sore he is. He sits up and pauses, brow furrowed, remembering that he’d gone to bed sitting upright. But just now, he’d been lying on his back. And he’s not the best tracker, but those giant footprints look… disconcertingly fresh. These things add up in his mind. He just about passes out. He crouches down and puts his head between his knees for a moment until he can breathe again and his heart stops pounding quite so hard. He was right next to it! He fell asleep leaning on it! If his father heard about this he’d give him such a beating. How could he not have noticed that the boulder was actually -

His stomach rumbles, interrupting his panicked thoughts, and Luther remembers that the last time he ate was back in that farming village around two in the afternoon yesterday. He digs out a bit of beef jerky and morosely works at it. His father swears by the stuff, but it just makes his teeth hurt. Luther dreams of the kitchens back home and drools a little.

He gives up on the jerky and manages to take down a couple squirrels with his bow and arrows. He gets his fire blazing again and sets them cooking over it, and sits down to draw in the dirt and form a battle plan. He gets wrapped up in his drawing and loses track of time, but is startled violently back to reality as a deep booming voice from behind him says, “Your squirrel’s burning.”

Luther’s eyes snap up to the fire. He hastily pulls the stick with his squirrels off of it, waving it in the air to put out the bit of squirrel that had caught fire. He blows on it and inspects the damage. Not too bad, a little charred. Still definitely edible. Then realization dawns, and he slowly looks up and over his shoulder.

That’s the ogre. He’s unmistakable. Huge, greyish-green, with shaggy black hair and big tusks that jut out of his mouth. He’s down on one knee looming over Luther, modesty barely preserved by a loincloth stitched together out of the pelts of many different furry animals. Luther wills himself to not faint for the second time that day.

“You gonna eat that?” The ogre booms. “’Cause I will if you won’t.”

“W-well, yes, I was planning to,” Luther quavers, “But there are two, so, um, you can have one if you want? We can share?”

He takes the non-burned squirrel off the stick and holds it up. His hand only shakes a little. The ogre takes it carefully between thumb and forefinger and tosses it in his mouth. With such a tiny morsel, he’d usually just swallow it whole, but an interesting flavor makes him stop and savor it for a moment.

“What’d you do to it? Not like any squirrel I’ve eaten. And I’ve eaten a whole army of squirrels.” He slaps a hand on his formidable belly. The sound makes Luther jump.

“I- I didn’t do much, j-just some seasoning, I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, please don’t eat me next."

"You?” The ogre laughs. “Why would I eat you? You shared your food with me. That’s mighty polite. I’d say that makes us friends now, and I don’t eat friends.” He grunts as he shifts position, sitting down heavily and stretching out his legs. “Bad knees,” he grumbles. “Sat like that too long, but I wanted to see what you were drawing."

Luther is now horrifically aware that he is directly between the ogre’s legs. He is also horrifically aware that he was drawing himself hitting an ogre with a sword. He hurriedly kicks some dirt over it.

"Nothing. Nothing interesting. I’m a bad artist anyway.”

“Sure. What’s your name, little tin man? You didn’t seem too talkative when you snuggled up to me last night, but I thought maybe you were just tired. I’m Cam."

"L-Luther.” Oh god. He was supposed to kill this thing, it - well, no, not ‘it’, he can’t think of Cam as an ‘it’ now he knows his name - he’s terrorizing folks, stealing their livelihoods, he’s supposed to drive him away, save the day, bring peace to the kingdom. Instead he’s sharing his meager breakfast and making friends with the monster. How did it all go so wrong!!

“So, Luther, you made of metal? I thought you were gonna take all that off, looks pretty uncomfortable, but you wore it all night. Unless it’s like… you?"

"No, no, um, it’s just… it takes a long time to put it on and take it off? And I usually need help.”

"Well shoot, friend, why didn’t you say so?“ Before Luther can object, a giant hand descends and plucks him up. He panics, struggles in Cam’s grasp, and Cam tsks at him. "I can’t get all that off you if you don’t hold still. Don’t make me squeeze."

Luther goes still. If Cam squeezes the armor, it’ll stay squeezed. He wouldn’t want to still be in it if that happens. Cam clearly has no idea how to get someone out of armor though. He just pulls at clasps and buckles till they break, then shucks the metal off of Luther like an ear of corn. His helmet comes off first, freeing his dark brown curls.

“Aww,” Cam says, “lookit you. You’re kinda cute for a tin man.” He musses up Luther’s hair with a fingertip. "You’re like a little crab,” Cam chuckles. “Crack open the hard shell to get to the soft stuff underneath.” The food metaphor does not put Luther any more at ease as the rest of his armor is pulled off and tossed aside, piece by piece. Cam even strips the chainmail off of him and dumps it on the ground. This leaves Luther in his shirt and breeches, shaking like a leaf and terrified for his life.

“Oh, you cold? Here, I gotcha.” Cam sandwiches him between his hands. Luther awaits the pressure and the horrible crunch that will no doubt be the end of his short life, but it never comes. Cam just holds him there, and truth be told his hands are very warm, and it had been a chilly morning. Luther relaxes very slightly.

After a few minutes, Cam lifts one hand a little and peeks at Luther. “Better?"

"Much better, thank you. Even a little too warm, actually? Can I, um, come out now?"

Cam laughs and opens his hands like a book, then tilts them so Luther tumbles into the palm of his left hand. "So what’s a fancy little shrimp like you doing all the way out here, with that tough shell and those sharp weapons? You huntin’ something?"

Luther hesitates. It’s not… technically a lie, just an omission of truth, right? "Yeees…. Hunting.”

Cam laughs out loud, leaning back and slapping his knee with his free hand. “HA! You are just about the worst liar I ever met, Luther. Whew.” He actually wipes a tear from his eye. Luther feels his face heating up with anger and embarrassment.

“I am hunting! I’m hunting you!” As soon as he says it he regrets it. He slaps his hands over his mouth and cowers back as Cam sits up straight again and looks down at him, raising an eyebrow.

“That so? Huh. Well, you found me, oh mighty hunter. And you fed me, and let me take your armor off you, and left all your sharp things on the ground while you sit in the palm of my hand. So, uh… how’s that goin’ for ya?”

“It… I… um… please don’t kill me?”

Cam grins. It’s not a nice grin anymore. It shows off too many teeth. “Lotsa folks have hunted me, you know. Not a one has succeeded. Most of ‘em can’t find me in the first place, not unless I want them to. Neat little trick we ogres have. We blend in well. The ones who did find me, they regretted it pretty quick. When I heard you clanking along with your silly armor and your little sword, I thought oh boy, here comes another one. But it turns out this one couldn’t find his own ass with both hands and a map, so he ain’t one of them legendary monster hunters lookin’ to claim some bounty. And he’s a little scrawny slip of a thing, too, and he keeps stopping to look at birds. I kinda liked you. And honestly, when you found me, it took me by surprise. Thought I had you pegged all wrong. Then you made your little fire, curled up next to me, and went to sleep, and it took everything I had not to bust my gut laughing right then and there. And now… well, I don’t rightly know what to make of you. Cute little thing, I know that. But cute won’t save you if you wanna tussle with me. So, little hunter… what’re you gonna do now?”

Luther’s nearly in tears. He manages to say, “Then… were you just… toying with me? This whole time? Waiting to see what I’d do?"

Cam shrugs. "Pretty much.” That does it. The waterworks are in full swing. Luther’s chin trembles, his lower lip wobbles, and then tears are streaming down his face and he’s sobbing.

“Y- you’re s-so-ho meeeaaaan,” Luther wails. “Y-you’re j-just making f-fun of me, I thought w-we were friends!”

Cam has absolutely no idea how to respond to this. For some reason he actually feels guilty. “Aw - no - now look, there’s no call for - just… just stop crying, okay? Please?” Luther continues to sob, heedless of Cam’s pleading. “There, there,” Cam tries, patting Luther’s head. “I’m not going to kill you. Okay? How’s that? I’m sorry I called you - well. All those things. I’m sure you’re a great hunter. Look, you got those squirrels. And hey! That one I ate tasted great. You got some real skill there."

Luther wipes his eyes and looks up, teetering dangerously on the edge of another sobbing fit. His eyes are all watery and a little red-rimmed. "R-really?"

"Yes! Of course!” Cam clings to the compliment like a life preserver. “I bet you’re like, like the king’s cook or something, right? Cause you’re the best in the land?"

Luther’s face crumples a little and he looks down, mutters something.

"What?” Cam holds him up a little closer to his ear.

“’m his son,” Luther mumbles again.

“His son? You’re a prince? And you’re all - oh, hell.” Now he’s really put his foot in it. Luther bursts into tears again and curls up in a little ball.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I - oh, ugh, you’re getting my hand all wet.” Cam picks him up between thumb and forefinger and shakes the little tear droplets off his palm. “Now look here,” he says, attempting a sterner approach. “You’re a prince, all right? You can’t be crying and going to pieces just ‘cause some big bad monster was mean to you. You gotta kill big bad monsters, right? So here’s what you’re gonna do.” Cam sets him down gently, picks up his sword and hands it to him. “There you go. You’re gonna take that sword, right, and you’re gonna really let me have it. That’ll make you feel better, won’t it?“

Luther purses his lips and looks up at him. "But… all I can hit from here is your foot. That’s no good. I need a shot at something vital."

"Oh fine, fine, Mr. Picky,” Cam grumbles. He shuffles his legs to the side and leans down til he’s practically laying on his belly. “Face shot. Free one for ya. Go on, hit something good.” Luther considers. Just as Cam realizes how ridiculous this whole thing is, he draws his sword back and plunges it into Cam’s eye.

- Almost plunges it into Cam’s eye. The ogre moves suddenly, turning his head to the side to avoid the blow. Luther makes a deep gash in Cam’s cheek, and Cam roars. “Oh, you sly little shit. Very good, very sneaky. You almost had me there. Fine. We do this the hard way.”

He gets to his feet, draws himself up to his full, impressive height, and looks down at the dirt where Luther was a moment ago. Cam blinks in surprise. “Where’d you… goddammit…” He looks around, trying to catch a glimpse of where Luther could’ve gotten to.

Luther was not about to let the golden opportunity to run and hide during a big dramatic show of power go to waste. He slides into a patch of underbrush, catches his breath, and takes stock. He has no armor, no food, no bow or arrows. Those are all back at his camp, which is currently ogre territory. He has one sword that he’s okay at using. The ogre has the homefield advantage, and some kind of ability, possibly magical, to hide himself from those who want to find him. Luther shouldn’t let him out of his sight. But he should work on camouflaging himself. He takes a handful of dirt and smears it on his face and shirt. The sword he can’t do much about, he’ll just have to try and keep it from glinting. He glances to his left, away from where Cam still stands, turning in circles and peering around. Luther had only gone a little ways into the woods before he stopped for camp last night. He can almost see the forest’s edge from here. He could dart for the grasslands and try to make it back to the village, but he’d be in plain sight as soon as he’s out of the trees and there’s no guarantee Cam won’t just follow him all the way back. The further he goes into the trees the more firmly he is in Cam’s territory, but the more coverage he has.

Possibilities begin swirling around in his head. His best bet is trickery rather than a face to face confrontation. He’s got a running list in his mind of Cam’s weak points now. Food, monologuing, emotional outbursts. Although that last one’s probably off the table now. Bursting into tears isn’t going to get him out of a second pinch. Bad knees - if he can trip Cam up, he can get a shot at his face again, maybe cut his throat or get at his soft belly and sides. Cam’s a talker and likes to gloat, maybe if he gets him distracted by looking pathetic he could get him to walk right into a trap of some kind. He likes food… but Luther doesn’t have the resources to make a big feast to distract him or sate him, just a pouchful of seasoning that he never leaves home without. His lip wobbles again as he thinks about how that’s back at his camp… he may never see his precious seasonings again.

Meanwhile, Cam is getting frustrated. “Well, the little shit can’t have gone far,” he grumbles. “Just gotta flush 'im out.” Luther watches, petrified, as Cam lumbers over to a nearby patch of underbrush and without warning stomps down on it hard, twisting his foot and smashing every inch of it. He steps back and leans down to inspect what’s left. Luther bites his lip hard to stifle a whimper.

“Nope, not there,” Cam announces. “Eeney, meeney, miney…..” Another bunch of bushes are mercilessly ground into the dirt. “Moe. Hmmm. Where are you?”

Luther can’t stay in his hiding place for long. It’s only a matter of time before Cam gets to him. He needs an opening to make a break for it though, if he runs now Cam will spot him right away. As slowly as he dares, he picks up a large, flat rock, then skims it like a frisbee off to his right, where it hits a tree with a satisfying thock. Cam whirls around, and Luther bolts out of the brush. Cam hears the leaves rustling and turns back around, catching sight of him as he flees.

“There you are! Hold on now, don’t go running off! I just wanna talk, I swear. The whole monster-slaying prince thing not working out for ya? I got a better job offer! You can be my dinner!” Luther keeps sprinting as fast as he can, not even bothering to glance behind him. The last thing he needs is to miss a fallen branch or a groundhog hole and trip.

On flat, open land, the ogre would outpace him easily. But if he can get deeper into the forest where the trees are closer together, that could slow him down enough for Luther to get some distance and hide again, have a moment to breathe and think so he can work on his plan. He’s starting to get an idea of what he’ll need. He needs the element of surprise for sure, and he needs more than just his sword. If he had some rope he could set up a tripwire, maybe. He curses himself for not taking his father’s advice about packing, for letting Cam strip him, for being too weak and scared to do anything when he had the chance, for being born in the first place. His eyes well up with tears and he scrubs at them furiously. He can’t afford to have his sight blurred right now, he needs to keep his head clear and keep moving. He can hear Cam’s thudding footsteps behind him, gaining quickly. He can cover so much more ground in a single step. It’s simply not fair. The little bit of distance he was able to gain with his rock trick is disappearing fast and it won’t be long before he’s in arm’s reach.

Almost as if he can read his thoughts, Cam lunges forward and takes a swipe at him, trying to knock him off his feet. Luther hits the deck and Cam overbalances, stumbling and crashing into a tree. The tree snaps when his weight collides with it, and Cam has to windmill his arms to keep from falling over. Luther scrambles to his feet and keeps running. He even manages to put on an extra burst of speed when he hears Cam roar with frustration behind him. He’s not as fast as he could be because he’s lugging the sword along with him, but he doesn’t dare drop it. It proves its usefulness in the next minute. Cam closes the distance and grabs for him. Luther sees the shadow fall over him and whirls around, lashing out at the reaching hand. He slices across Cam’s palm, and Cam howls with pain and pulls back. Luther dashes away, and Cam stomps his foot in frustration.

"Hold still, dammit! You’re just making it worse for yourself!” He takes off after Luther again, but his stamina’s flagging. It’s harder for a creature his size to haul himself around and he’s used to running down his prey in the first minutes of the chase. This has dragged on long enough to tire him out, but he’s not willing to give up just yet. “When I get my hands on you, tin man, you’re paste,” he growls. “They’re gonna have to come up with new words for how dead you’re gonna be.”

The trees start getting close enough together that Luther has to dodge around them from time to time. He can hear Cam behind him crashing through them, spluttering as he gets a face full of branches and leaves. Luther smiles to himself. That’s nice, at least. At last he gathers up his nerve and dodges to the side behind a particularly large tree, hoping that Cam’s too busy navigating the foliage to notice. His gamble pays off. A few seconds later, the ogre goes lumbering past him without so much as a sideways glance. Luther waits just a moment more, then bolts in the opposite direction.

He’s got a plan now. He probably won’t be able to find Cam again, but Cam can find him. So he’ll set up an ambush. He circles back around to his camp and grabs his supplies as quickly as he can, his bow and arrow, his helmet, his tinderbox, and most importantly, his seasoning. He hunts for deer, takes down a decent-sized buck, and sets up a new campfire, deep in the woods, where the trees are close. He’s hoping that Cam will think that Luther thinks he’s safe in there, and that the smell of the meat cooking will lure Cam in. He takes off his shirt and fills it with twigs and leaves, sets his helmet up on a stick driven into the ground, and makes a decently convincing decoy Luther that he leans against a log. The helmet tilts at an angle that makes it look like he’s fallen asleep. With that set up, and night closing in, Luther climbs up a nearby tree and waits, sword in hand.

He doesn’t watch the fire. He wants to keep his night vision sharp. And sure enough, before too long here comes Cam, moving surprisingly quietly for his size. He squeezes through the trees with barely a rustling of leaves. Cam’s eyes are fixed on the fire and the silhouette that the decoy makes against it. Cam gets right behind the decoy and slams his foot down on it. He grinds it into the dirt with a relish that makes Luther shudder. Then Cam looks at the deer cooking with that lovely smell rising off it, and his eyes go big and shiny. As Cam bends down to pick it up, Luther chooses his moment. He drops like a stone and buries his sword lengthwise in the back of Cam’s neck. The impact sends a jolt up his arms and he hangs on as tight as he can. Cam lets out a garbled scream of pain and collapses face first on the ground. Luther gets to his feet, pulls his sword out with some difficulty, takes a deep breath, and begins to chop.

It’s messy, horrible work. By the third swing tears are rolling down Luther’s cheeks. By the seventh, he’s sobbing. After the twenty-third cut, Cam’s head is finally severed, and rolls to the side. Luther stumbles back. He’s trembling, covered in blood, panting and crying, but it’s finally done.

And then Cam’s head says, “Wow, kid. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Luther watches, dumbfounded, as Cam’s body sits up, searches around with its hands, locates his head, and puts it back on his shoulders as the flesh knits together again. Luther drops his sword in disbelief. He falls to his knees. That was it. That was all he had. He can’t even imagine what he could do against a foe who can just reattach his own head.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “Okay. Um. Make it quick, please?” Cam had been planning to crunch the little shit once he was back on his feet, but he can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at how despondent Luther looks.

“Aw, no, no, don’t give up so quick! Really, you almost had me!” Cam scoops him up and pats him on the head. “Look, it was a good effort. I’m sure if you had known I can’t be killed, you wouldn’t have spent all that time and energy trying to kill me. Just do a little more research next time, yeah?"

"Next time,” Luther repeats, and gives a hollow laugh. “There isn’t going to be a next time. I’m not welcome as part of the royal family if I can’t kill a monster. Even my sister’s done her first slaying already. A whole nest of vampires! And I can’t kill one measly ogre."

"Hey, watch who you’re calling measly,” Cam warns, but his heart isn’t in it. “Jeez. You’ve got some issues, kid. Not much of a fighter, I take it?"

Luther shakes his head and sighs. "I’m just not very good at it."

"Well they chose one hell of a first mission for you, that’s for sure. Ogres are tricky ones. We’ve got a lot of defense mechanisms.” Cam thinks for a moment. “You know what you are good at, though? You’re a good talker. Very convincing. I mean, you really had me going, with the crying and all? It was a really good ruse."

Luther bites his lip. "Um…"

"Okay, so it was for real and not a ruse. But you made the best of a bad situation! That’s also a good skill for a ruler to have. You just gotta show your family that your skills are less conventional, but still effective! Like, okay, why do you have to kill me? What’d I do?"

“You’re eating all the farmers’ cattle and scaring people."

"I thought free range meant I had free reign. Eh? Eh?” Cam pokes Luther in the ribs. Luther frowns at him. “Oh, fine, whatever. No sense of humor. You know, that’s pretty important for a king too. Yeah, all right, I’ll leave the cows alone."

"And the sheep,” Luther says sharply. “And the pigs, and chickens."

"I haven’t eaten any pigs or chickens,” Cam protests.

“Not yet. I’m being proactive."

"There you go!” Cam says, beaming. “There’s that negotiator skill! But seriously, if I can’t eat the cows and sheep I’ve got to eat something. Can you make it worth my while? 'Cause I’m not going back to squirrels."

"Well…” Luther says slowly. “What if… I hire you?"

"You… hire me?"

"Yeah. Like, as a bodyguard or something. Then I’d have to pay you, right? I could pay you in food?”

Cam is quiet for a moment. He brings Luther up closer to his face and scrutinizes him. Luther’s heart is pounding out of his chest. For a moment he thinks he’s made some horrible mistake and offended Cam and it’s all over for him. "You’re serious? Not kidding me, here? That’s your offer?”

“Y-yes? Is that… is it bad?"

"Bad? Bad? That’s the best offer I’ve ever heard! Pay me in food? HELL yes, kid! That’s what I like to hear!” The force of Cam’s enthusiasm knocks Luther over on his back. He stares at the sky for a moment. His life is so goddamn weird.

~~~~~~~~~

Luther’s father’s dragon slaying days are behind him. He’s an old man now. He has good days and bad days, but even on his best days he frequently needs help getting around. But when he sees that giant ogre enter his royal halls, he reaches for his spear. Luther eases it out of his hand.

“No, see, it’s okay. I didn’t kill him, but I stopped him terrorizing the countryside, and I kind of… hired him. As my bodyguard. This was easier, and we both benefit, see? Also, um, were you going to tell me ogres are immortal?"

"You were supposed to figure something out,” his father says. “Since you’re so damned smart."

"Well, I did figure something out. Just… maybe not what you wanted me to."

Cam waves lazily. "Hi, Yer Majesty."

"Cam,” Luther hisses. “We talked about this."

"Oh, fine, fine,” Cam grumbles, and takes a knee to bow low before the king. “I humbly pledge my service to your son,” he intones, hamming it up just a little. “Please allow me to protect him from all harms, and so on."

The king glares. His stabbing hand is itching. But he doesn’t currently have a better plan, and this’ll keep the peasants quiet for a bit. "Fine,” he spits, “But you’re taking care of him. Feeding him, walking him, cleaning up after him, whatever. No getting the servants to do it for you. He’s your responsibility now."

Cam grins at Luther. "So, speaking of feeding… when’s dinner?”

#art #writing #giant tiny #g/t #cam and luther #fairy tale au #to be more specific re: content warnings there is a beheading but he gets better so it's okay #tiny knights are very important to me as u can clearly see #there's just something about. someone who is sworn to protect others going up against a force so much larger than themselves #EDIT mobile hates readmores sorry if u get a three mile long post on yr dash :(

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ziamhaze · 4 years ago

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My Future in Fic

Yeah, so, the 100k fic that I’ve been working on for the past six months? The one that was going to be uploaded to AO3 last week? Yeah, it’s accidentally getting published...

Where do I start?

I suppose with a massive thank you to anyone who’s clicked on any of my fics over these past two years. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. I never ever thought about writing as a career. I’ve never written anything prior to my Harry Potter AU Compartment 451. I didn’t even take an English class in undergrad or grad school. I genuinely just had an idea for a fic I wanted to read and since no one had written it, I had to do so myself. Since then, I’ve written every single day for 2 years. I left my job in the entertainment industry, got accepted to one of the best creative writing programs in the world on a scholarship, and now one of my stories is being considered at Harper Collins. Yes, the Harper Collins. It’s the longest shot in the world, but for legal reasons I was not allowed to upload the fic version on any website prior to submission. Even if they don’t pick it up, I’ve been advised to continue to shop it around to agents.

What I can do, however, is share the premise.

If you’ve been following my tumblr and watching my tags - I SEE YOU ALL OUT THERE - then you’ll know that this fic was meant to have Zayn with his signature undercut hairstyle and one more little thing...

Someone sent me an ask a while back about what this fic was supposed to be about. I believe I said something about it being an adaptation fic, but not from a film/tv show/other piece of literature, from a song. This next fic was meant to be an adaptation of the song Younger by Ruel. Later on, it also took shape with the help of Remember by Liam and a few others that you can find here.

The miniature summary is as follows:

When his father suddenly passes, twenty-nine-year-old Liam Payne is brought back to the Sydney suburbs where he grew up. He doesn’t plan on seeing his childhood best friend, Zayn Malik, at the burial service. They haven’t spoken since going from brothers to strangers one fateful day fifteen years prior. But Zayn puts an end to this when he approaches Liam after the burial, offering his condolences and asking if Liam can help his archaeological research team with photographing their newest project. The unexpected closeness forces each man to wade through uneasy emotions. For Liam, a mixture of grief, lost identity, and confusion over why he’s willing to interact with the one person he swore he’d never forgive. And for Zayn, a tidal wave of anxiety that comes from finally facing a part of himself he’s always chosen to deny. When We Were Younger is a story heavily rooted in blurred identities and exploring what loss can look like in two different scenarios: death and friendship.

For obvious reasons, their names will be changed. Liam, to Hutton. Zayn, to Cairo (his ethnicity will also be changed to Egyptian). As you can see, it was meant to be my big ‘enemies to lovers’ fic. Technically, it’s ‘best friends to enemies to lovers’, but you know.

Right, so what does this mean for me going forward?

I still have so much inspiration when it comes to writing Zayn and Liam as characters. I don’t plan on putting a complete stop to writing them, but with my career taking this large of a turn, I do have to prioritise my time. That said, as of now, I can’t afford to write long-form fic any longer.

Soon, I’ll be starting a PhD program where I’ll be writing another full-length novel for mass publication. For fun, here’s a little insight on the two ideas that I’ll be pitching:

1. Underground boxer (loosely based off Liam) falls in love with arms gang leader (loosely based off Zayn). Throughout their love story, the latter has to outrun the psychological trauma his father (the leader of Zayn’s rival gang) still throws his way.

2. Cold War AU. Paris, circa 1950/51. Ambassador’s son (loosely based off Liam) befriends new student (loosely based off Zayn) at the international school. Paris is a ticking time bomb; war is about to break out at literally any second. The two clearly have feelings for each other, but can’t act on them because homosexuality in the 1950s...yikes. When war does break out, the two are separated, and as Liam’s character goes out to find Zayn’s, he learns a secret of his that changes everything.

Whichever I don’t write for the PhD will be the novel I write following it.

In the meantime, I’m going to continue to write (and edit) like crazy. Ever since I randomly wrote C451, there hasn't been a day that’s gone by where I haven't written something. It may have only been a paragraph or two, but never zero. This is how you get better. This is the equivalent of going out and shooting free throws for 30 minutes a day. You have to put in the work in order to get better. I'm very lucky that I'm incredibly self-disciplined and I've been able to crank out as many stories as I have over the past 2 years.

That said, I’ll be writing shorter little oneshots. I have several ideas that I’ve been sitting on, but haven’t ever thought to write because I HATE writing short stories. Little ideas that don't have huge plotline/climax potential, but that I want to just see on paper, I'll probably end up writing. If I had to guess, I'd say they'll come out to around 10-15k. Also, sequels? Prequels? Haha, you never know...

I’ve also got a series called “Sleep Drabbles” that are, yes, you guessed it, a series of drabbles based around one theme: sleep. I also have a few scenes that I want to write which are based on ziam’s kids, not actually ziam themselves. If there’s enough demand for that, I can upload those too, but they’re quite niche, so I don’t think the general fandom would be very interested.

As far as frequency for all of this, I have no idea. I’ve always done things at my own pace and written stories that I want to write, for myself. That won’t ever change, so I don’t want to commit to one drabble a week or one short-length fic per month. It takes me weeks (months for this last fic) to research and interview the necessary people to get character arcs correct/believable. I love that part of writing, and so if I have a little story that I want to write that may only be 10k but takes me ages to put together how I want, then so be it. I will always be around to answer asks/messages and please, continue to tag me in your writing tag posts! But please, no prompts.

So, that’s my future with fic.

Again, I cannot say thank you enough to every single one of you. Every single thing that people tag me in (@malik-payne , @zqua1d , @zentiment , @liamisthesun , @redyellowberry I’m looking at you), I appreciate and love! The recommendation lists that people have put me on, THANK YOU! It’s wild to think that I used to look to rec lists for years and now I’m on them. @ziamfanfiction THANK YOU for always having my back with exposure! @paynefulperiods , my beloved beta reader, THANK YOU for always encouraging me and putting up with shit first drafts. @march-z5 , THANK YOU for always being on call for ideas and listening to me bang my head against the wall at 4 am.

Now, might fuck around and make a fake picspam for the fic that never was...

Also, all of the behind scenes pages for each of my fics are now public, so feel free to check those out here.

I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for making this journey possible. I know people say that a lot when they gain a following of any sort, but I truly truly mean it. You have to have talent in order to be an author, but you also have to have people who want to read your stuff. Proof of concept is a real thing.

So thank you a million times over.

Speak soon my friends.

#ziamhaze #my writing #ziam #ziam fanfic #ziam fanfiction #not sure what to tag this #also gonna be reblogging for a while bc I know people are going to be curious about where the next fic is and won't have seen this

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macbetha · 3 years ago

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below the cut, you'll find an interest check chapter for quatervois, a nancy drew pc fic. it's francy and also my idea of my absolute dream game. please let me know what you think and enjoy!

+++

After Ned breaks up with her and she loses her father, Nancy struggles to find her old vigor for detective work. While on vacation in London with Bess and George, Nancy accepts the urgent invitation to return Blackmoor Manor. Her English getaway quickly turns into an investigation once Nancy realizes the true reason Nigel Mookergee asked her back to the moors. Finding Deirdre Shannon at the manor under the same pretense only sets Nancy’s nerves further on edge. It isn’t until the Hardy Boys show up in Blackmoor that Nancy gets a glimpse of who she once was. With a manor full of suspects and a glass heart cracked open, Nancy is determined to find the truth.

Dear Ned,

How are you? It’s been a while. I’ve always started off my letters telling you about my latest case, but I’m not on one right now. I’m sure that’s hard to believe. Bess and George have whisked me away to London. I’m sure you would love it here. This is the first time I’ve seen Bess and George since I sold the house in River Heights. I stayed with Kyler and Matt in Ireland for a while. I needed a change of scenery. Their daughter just turned two. I’m somewhat jealous I’m happy for them. Anyways, I miss you I hope you’re doing well. I’m sure New York is lovely at Christmas time. I hope Stephanie is I wish Stephanie well How is Stephanie? I hope Stephanie is doing all right. I appreciated the card Stephanie sent when dad passed away. Warm regards, Merry Christmas, Love Nancy

She stares down at the letter as if the red ink were her own blood. It feels just as wounding, seeing her emotions made physical in the words on the paper. Only when a tear splatters on the page does she break free from her trance to the past. Nancy is the only person in her hotel suite, yet she works to rid the evidence like one of her own suspects. She pulls her feet up in the desk chair and crosses her ankles, holding the arch of her right foot – it recently became the victim of her latest culprit. Nancy’s foot got caught under the getaway car’s tire, and she is lucky to even be able to walk after the event. Months later, it’s stiff as hell with the most intense cramps she’s ever endured. Heart racing to forget the night it happened, she focuses on the snowfall out the window – counting little sparkles of snowflakes, though the world blurs when she squints. The doctor thought her failing sight as well as the daily headaches were on account of being hit in the head so many times.

She busies herself with choosing a postcard to send Hannah and Nancy selects one with a cat dressed up as a royal guard. The cuteness puts a smile on her face, however small – she hopes it’ll do the same for Hannah, but there is no telling. Nancy had the gut-feeling Hannah was lying about recognizing her the last time Nancy visited the nursing home. Torment swirls like wind to fallen leaves. She doesn’t have Hannah or Togo to come home to. Togo passed just before Nancy’s thirty-second birthday, and Carson fell ill soon after that. Nancy looks to her hotel bed where Mr. Woogle Woggle sits tucked between two pillows. It seems he is the only one that hasn’t left her. A knock on her hotel door reminds her that is simply not true. Nancy rights herself, fixing her posture to the stance of someone passionate, and she opens the door. Bess and George greet her with blazing smiles; Nancy gives silent thanks for their presence in her life. She would still be in Scotland with Kyler and Matt, had Bess and George not insisted to take her on a vacation. Nancy imagines that their insistence was due to them wanting to keep Nancy from spending Christmas alone on the road again like last year. “Nancy,” Bess stresses. “You’re never going to guess who we ran into in the lobby!” Horror strikes dull and loud in her ears. Surely, it’s not Ned. Please, don’t let it be Ned. George says, “Give you a hint: they were involved in one of your cases.” Nancy’s despair leaves her throat tight. She glances down the hallway, preparing to yank Bess and George into her room and dial her Cathedral contact to get them set up in witness protection.

“That didn’t narrow it down at all, George,” Bess says with a roll of her eyes. “Nancy’s been on hundreds of cases.” Nancy’s strain creeps into her one word: “Who?” Bess and George beam. “Maya Nguyn!” ++

Nancy follows Bess and George to the elevator in a hurried stupor. No thoughts can she conjure as she steps free from the elevator walls which seem to close in on her; Nancy marches into the lobby and notices a woman in the crowd of tourists. She stands with her back to Nancy, her hair drawn up in a bun, and her chin is lifted high with no time for games. Maya turns around and her bright red mouth stretches into a smile. “Nancy!” “Maya,” Nancy huffs in disbelief. She tenses in Maya’s sudden embrace before all but falling into it. This is something good I did; Nancy cherishes with shut eyes. This is someone I helped. When Maya pulls back, Nancy says, “What are you doing all the way out here? You said in your last letter, you were still in Washington.” “My house is technically there,” Maya nods. “But I get to work on the road more these days.” Her brows crease over a sympathetic smile. “Bess and George tell me you’re kind of in the same boat.” Nancy shrugs, struggling to hold Maya’s concerned gaze. “It’s just easier,” Nancy lies. Maya seems to see right through it, but she doesn’t speak on it. Nancy will have to thank her later. George says, “Maya offered us free tickets to a play she’s reviewing tonight and get this – it’s at the Globe Theater!” “Remind me what’s so special about a globe theater,” Bess sighs, checking her nails. “Not ‘a’, Bess, the.” George shakes her head. “The Globe Theater – well, technically it’s a reconstruction of the first one, but it’s where Shakespeare wrote his plays.” “It’s the opening night of a new play,” Maya explains. “And Nancy, you’ll never guess who the star is.” Nancy cannot take anymore guessing games. “Brady Armstrong.” Maya blinks. “Well – yes, actually.” Nancy frowns. “Wait, really?” “Yes,” Maya laughs. “I’ll be conducting an interview with him after the show if you want to go backstage and chew him out for all the stunts he pulled back in the day.” A spark of vigor heightens Nancy’s senses. That doesn’t sound bad at all. Still – “Are you sure we won’t be a distraction or –” “Nancy.” Maya’s hand falls on her shoulder. “You saved my life. You’re the furthest thing from a distraction.” Gratitude floods her before Nancy nods. “All right, then.” +++ The walk to the Globe would be depressive what with the sky being the color of a soaked napkin, but the Christmas decorations lift everyone’s spirits. Nancy limps by a shop playing Christmas oldies through the open door and she is borne back to her father listening to records over cocoa on Christmas morning. She tries to push the memory from her mind, then she thinks of building snowmen with Ned and having snowball fights that turned into the sweetest kisses she’s ever received. The music won’t stop. There are three Christmas trees in the display window and their flashing lights strike pain behind Nancy’s eyes. She pants through a sensory overload before someone squeezes her hand. Maya smiles in understanding as Bess and George walk obliviously in front of them. “It’s hard,” Maya says. “This life on the road. You pick up a few habits.” Nancy squeezes her hand in thanks before tucking her own in her peacoat’s pocket. “I want to enjoy this,” she admits quietly. “But I think the holidays are always hard.” Maya nods. “It won’t be this way forever, Nancy,” she promises. “I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.” Cross your fingers, there’s a story behind this door! Nancy swallows around the lump of panic in her throat. She plasters on a smile. +++ The theater is packed with noise and touching and all-around boisterous patrons. They find their seats in the crowd and Nancy doesn’t watch where she’s going – she must keep her eyes on the open ceiling to remember how to breathe. She sits down at the end of the group and Maya passes out programs. Quatervois, the title reads. Bess says, “What does that mean?” “It means you’re at a crossroads,” Maya says. “A turning point.” “Sounds a little dramatic,” George grumbles. Nancy traces the swooping lines of the title with

her thumb, repeating the process until the lights go down. The masked chorus emerges from the shadows and gives a synopsis: Down from Olympus a great hero emerges, Mighty in his strength and courage! A choice he must make Shall he ignore fate? Will he choose love, Or follow his destiny there-of? When Brady saunters on stage in an impossibly short silk chiton, it’s an out-of-body experience for Nancy. He still hasn’t grown his ponytail back, so Simone could very well be in the audience right now. Nancy rubs her aching temple at the thought. Brady begins his journey as the character Diogenes, a demigod that was supposedly – according to the play’s plot – written out of ancient Greek mythos. Diogenes must defeat those who want to leave him forgotten in history, lest he admit that he can’t win this fight and live his life like everyone else. Nancy assumes the play’s ending too soon. She imagines this will be a droll experience written only to paint Brady as a glorious hero that can conquer anything – but she is quickly surprised. Brady is stabbed in the final act and addresses the audience in a wail: And so my story ends a breath too early, No time to even be weary! The moon shall pass over my corpse, And the sun will beat down on my ashes with no remorse. Today, I have failed my quartervois Alone, forgotten, and lost. When the curtain falls, Nancy’s mouth is parted in disbelief as a tear burns down her cheek. They don’t receive a proper goodbye with Maya since the rest of the crowd is bustling toward the exit. She does have time to say that Brady is producing a new television series and will be scouting some locations further into Essex; Maya will be following the film crew there for test shoots. She embraces each girl individually and holds Nancy for a beat longer, whispering, “You’ll call if you need to talk?” “Of course,” Nancy says by impulse. “Same to you.” +++ Nancy is proud of herself for going out, but when she closes the door to her hotel suite, her back thunks against the wall and she must take deep breaths for several minutes. She decides to treat herself to a bubble bath even though it’s nearly midnight. She rolls her hair up into a bun and looks at it in the mirror, how haphazard and messy hers is in comparison to Maya. Nancy isn’t jealous – but she can’t help but notice when people are thriving. She wants to figure out how to do it herself and hasn’t found the cure yet. The bath is claw-footed and deep. Nancy sinks into the steaming water before goosebumps rise on her arms, and her freckled skin blushes in the heat. The water does wonders for her foot. She eases her head back on the lip of the tub and nears a light doze when her cell phone rings. It rests atop a stack of towels by the tub. Nancy wipes her damp hand off before looking to the screen. Frank Hardy. Nancy answers and taps the speaker button to relax back in the tub. “Hey.” “Hi, Nance,” Frank says, his voice a familiar balm after such a stressful time. “What’s going on?” “Things aren’t too different from last week’s call,” Nancy smiles. “But I’m on vacation with Bess and George.” “Oh wow! That’s awesome. I hope it’s been fun.” Nancy’s glazed eyes blink. “Yeah,” she rasps. “It’s nice.” She clears her throat, searching for her old enthusiasm. “But what about you? How’s Joe?” “Same as usual, a pain in my ass.” Nancy chuckles before a distinctive lift raises Frank’s voice. “We’re actually getting ready to get on a plane for a case – but I wanted to make sure everything’s good with you.” Nancy’s hand closes in a fist on her raised knee. “Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a case.” “Not really. You just took a few months off to stay with Kyler, right?” “Yeah, but that’s the longest I’ve ever gone without a case since I started.” “I’d give you ours if I could,” Frank says. “Really not looking forward to such a long plane ride. Oh, they’re calling for our gate – but do you want me call you when I land?” Gratefulness is a warm glow in her heart. “No, that’s okay – but

thank you. Be safe on your trip and tell Joe I said hi.” “Can do.” Frank pauses. “I – tell Bess and George I said hi.” “Can do,” Nancy repeats. She chews her lip. “See you soon?” She feels foolish for saying something when Frank is headed to a case. While the weekly phone calls have kept Nancy sane, it would be even better to see the Hardy Boys. “I’ll make it happen,” Frank promises. “See you, Nance.” After they hang up, Nancy struggles to get out of the tub with her swollen foot. She gets into a pair of sweats and wraps up some ice in a washcloth, then holds it against her foot. Nancy mulls over her conversation with Frank, wondering how much of her poor mood could be due to not solving a mystery. With a deep yawn, she tosses the soaked washcloth in the wastebasket, not able to walk to the bathroom to put it in the sink. She cuddles up to her teddy bear and flicks the lamp off when her phone rocks to life on the nightstand. Bewildered, Nancy turns the lamp back on to look at the screen. The number is unknown; she sees her hand tremble around the phone. She lets the call go to voicemail before the phone vibrates to life once again. Bracing herself, Nancy answers. “Hello?” “Yes, hello – I’m trying to reach a one Nancy Drew?” The voice is British and eerily familiar, like Nancy heard it in a dream. “This is she.” “Splendid! Oh, you wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve gone to in order to find your number.” “Sorry? Who is this?” “Why, Nigel Mookergee. We met at –” “Blackmoor,” Nancy whispers. “Nigel, hi. What’s going on?” “I’m afraid the manner of my call is not a jovial one,” he says. “How should I explain this? Well, I suppose from the start. You see –” He sighs. “Don’t tell anyone I’m speaking of this, but the Penvellyns have fallen into a bit of… financial trouble.” Nancy says, “’Financial trouble’?” “It’s certainly not my business to spread, but yes. It’s not that they are a poor family by any means, but one diplomat’s salary is not enough to keep up a castle.” Nancy sits up, grabbing a pen and notepad from her bedside table. She jots as Nigel continues. “The Penvellyns began to host historical tours at the manor – much to Mrs. Drake’s dismay, I might add. Jane wishes to expand the business to the paranormal side of things, and I don’t quite agree with the idea myself, but she insists it’s just what the manor needs.” Nancy finishes scrawling and says, “So, you’re working for the Penvellyns now?” “Yes. I’m afraid there’s been some situations – inconsequential events, if you will – that need a glance over.” Nancy arches a brow. “You mean an investigation.” “Ah, such a serious word. I simply want to make sure we are fully prepared to expand the business.” Nancy’s eyes narrow. “Right. When would you need me there?” “As soon as possible -” Nigel catches himself. “I mean, at your earliest convenience.” Nancy glances over her notes, running her hand over the page filled by red ink. She closes her eyes against the sight and says, “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and stay safe. and please consider following me here and on twitter! xoxo

#nancy drew #nd #nancy drew pc #nd pc #CUR #clue crew #blackmoor manor #curse of blackmoor manor #francy #frank hardy #nancy drew fanfiction

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warandpussy · 3 years ago

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fic authors self rec! when you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. let’s spread the self-love 🤍✨

Omg 🥺 thank you friend... this is so hard (difficult) because I never read anything back!! But here is my list:

Multiphonics, AKA orchestra au, AKA the tortoise of slorchestra The Untamed 63k This is my longest fic ever and the first time I ever finished anything truly novel-length. It's sooooo personal and it's about music and duets and falling in love and writing it was very cathartic. It's also fundamentally very silly. I really loved writing it and the comments I've got on it have been so nice and heartwarming (almost wrote heartworming there). It's really my magnum opus I think.

All Alone (More or Less), AKA red dwarf au, AKA missy fic Doctor Who 39k My second longest fic ever and I wrote it like 3 months after the last one (remember when I could write... lol...) It's MY version of a Missy redemption arc and I guess sort of musing on what that would mean for her, because soooo many redemption arcs just leave me cold. You do not have to walk a hundred miles on your knees through the desert repenting et cetera. I just wanted to approach it from a perspective that wasn't so catholic and awful, so it's about change and what that means for her, and what her future would look like after that change. Missy is so mean and broken in the head!! Also there's a lot of Gender in there. I think it's probably my most complete character arc. It was a lot of fun to write this one too.

Buried in Hallowed Ground, AKA doncaster fic Doctor Who 13k The experience of writing this one was very strange - I started it in March 2020 ish and then had a hellish few months and picked it up again in September and finished the whole thing. Which is not something I'm usually able to do - once I lose interest I lose interest! But this was about my hometown which I love and missed so much, for obvious reasons. Like, Doncaster is a shithole... but it's MY shithole, you know? And writing this was almost like getting to go back again.

Spare Hearts, AKA the twissydole, AKA the inception of spare head nardole Doctor Who 11k I don't really have any excuses for this one. It's sort of also inspired by red dwarf in that there's an episode where the robot butler in that show takes of his head and replaces it with a spare head, and he keeps all his heads in a cupboard. And I did the same thing with Nardole and then made the Doctor practice kissing with one of the spare heads. And now I have a whole universe of headcanons where Nardole has spare heads and sometimes I forget that's not actually in the show.

Reach for the Stars, AKA liverpool fic, AKA climbing fic The Untamed 3.5k I just like this one because I think it's funny!! I wrote it in a 2 or 3 hour session from start to finish and then edited and posted it the next day. I haven't read it back, so it might not be the most technically proficient (I bet there's spelling errors in there) but I really made myself laugh and that's what matters to me the most I think. I'm in a fallow period at the moment (I've been saying that for like 5 months now) where writing is just so fucking difficult and every time I sit down I get in my own head about it and I can't get any words out. Contrasting where I am now with where I was when I wrote this, it's night and day. I'd like to get this energy back honestly!!!!

There we go that's my list :) I'm mostly thinking about the experience of writing things here, rather than saying I think these are the best things I've written; I honestly don't really think that's for me to judge! But as the writer I think the experience of creation is the most important part for me, and the part that sticks with me.

Looking back it's pretty obvious to me that the ones that made it on here are almost all comedies, or at least have an element of farce to them. Maybe red dwarf au is the most serious out of all of them - but it's based on a sitcom and I do think it has comedic notes to it, though it gets darker than most of my other stuff. I think for me the way that I like to explore themes is through comedy / jokes! And that makes the process of writing it more fun, and then I want to write it, and when I want to write something I think I have a better time doing so and make a better end result. And then the fics where I was just trying to write Serious Writing and Take Myself Seriously are the ones that end up being a slog and I don't like the way they turn out. I'm not trying to say I'm mega funny... I mostly write to make myself laugh more than anything.

Anyway, yes! There you go 😘

#my fic

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btxtreads · 4 years ago

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Underneath the Stars | H.Kai

➳ The stars will always shine, even if it can never shine brighter than the moon.

↳ Pairing: Hueningkai x Reader

↳ word count: 4.4k

↳ genre: fluff, like a tinee bit of angst, messy bc i was writing this with no idea of what plot to do also i think the ending is rushed but i still went past 12kst so what use was that rush sakjsjka, Hogwarts AU with a babie hufflepuff kai!

↳a/n: Belated happy birthday hueningie. Ningningdungies enjoy this half-baked Hufflepuff Kai fic

It was a cloudy day, perfect for students as they walked around aimlessly at the grounds before the anticipated quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff started.

Hueningkai, the Hufflepuff seeker, should have been making his way down to the Quidditch Pitch.

That’s why Y/N was so confused why they chose to be up in the owlery—laughing maniacally at her in amusement.

“Why are you even here?” She whined, clutching her letter to her chest.

“Well, I was curious why you weren’t in the stands to cheer me and Taehyun on,” Kai grinned, wiggling his eyebrows in a teasing manner. “Clearly, you’re more interested in sending a letter to a certain Slytherin,”

Kai laughed again, dogding a flying shoe courtesy of the girl.

“Good aim, want me to train you for Chaser?” Kai said nonchalantly, walking closer to the owls.

“No, thank you. Shouldn’t you be down at the pitch?” Y/N sighed in irritation, clutching the letter closer to her as he scooted closer—his eyes trained on the small envelope.

“Not going without you,” Kai snorted, crossing his arms. “What did you even say in the letter?”

“I’m going to confess—tonight at the Astronomy tower,” Y/N declared firmly, before burning red again as she shot Kai a small pout. “Do you think he’ll like me.”

Kai only gave her a small smile.

“He’d be stupid if he didn’t,” Kai grinned, gesturing his head over to the envelope. “Now, come on. Send that off and let’s go, we have a match.”

Y/N huffed, raising the envelope to Beomgyu’s owl—watching as it opened its wings and flew off to drop the anonymous envelope to Beomgyu.

It’s been a year, huh? Can we meet at the astronomy tower at midnight? I have something to ask you about the Yule Ball in a few weeks. -your admirer.

Y/N has always been around Soobin, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun and Kai for as long as she can remember.

Growing up, the five boys were practically hounding at her every day.

Soobin was her older brother, the perfect brother one can have—doting but not too overbearing, talented and charming, smart but can be airheaded most times.

It was through him that she met Yeonjun, his soon-to-be best friend and new next-door-neighbor.

Of course, that automatically meant meeting Yeonjun’s little brother, Beomgyu.

The mischievous pest warmed up really quickly to her—what with their mutual desire to torture their older brothers with endless pranks.

Then, they met Taehyun and Hueningkai through their parents.

Kai’s mother and Taehyun’s father were good friends with their parents, as well as Yeonjun’s and Beomgyu’s.

Of course, a reunion between old friends means a meeting between their children—and the moment Y/N met Kai she swore she found her other half.

Platonically speaking.

Sure, Taehyun and Beomgyu were so in sync with him, and Soobin and Yeonjun were just the perfect hyungs to be.

Y/N was different.

She was instantly hooked the first time he gave her the softest smile—introducing himself as “Hueningie” instead of his actual name of Kai and offering a cuddle of his plushie as a welcoming gift.

It wasn’t until they were around 10 years old when Y/N started realizing what love was—it was what she felt for her other best friend—Beomgyu.

Of course, Hueningkai knew this.

Of course, he didn’t say anything.

Even if he knew her love would hurt him in the long run.

Y/N rushed, hands shaking as she made her way up the Astronomy to finally tell Beomgyu how she’s felt for years.

She made sure she wouldn’t make him wait—going there thirty minutes before even the agreed time.

But it seems like someone beat her to the punch—two someones.

By the observation deck stood Beomgyu, cheeks burning red as he conversed with a short girl with long brown hair.

Lee Daeun—Slytherin, one of the prettiest in her house, and Beomgyu’s crush since freshman year.

He swore up and down that he grew out of his crush on her—obviously not with the way he blushed a bright red.

“This is you?” Beomgyu asked as he held a couple of envelopes in his hands—all love letters that Y/N herself wrote throughout the duration of the year.

“Yes,” Daeun replied shyly as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I really liked you, Beomgyu, so I thought I should send you some letters,”

Beomgyu smiled softly.

“You do?”

“I do,”

“What did you want to ask me?” Beomgyu asked gently, hand reaching out to grab the girl’s.

“Will you take me to the Yule Ball, Beomie?” Daeun asked, using Kai’s childhood nickname that only Y/N was allowed to use.

Instead of bringing that up, Beomgyu’s eyes brightened up as his smile widened even more.

As Y/N watched the scene from a the doorway, arms circled around her waist and a chin rested on her head.

“It’s okay,” Kai sighed, tightening his grip.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked, hand trailing down to grip his tightly.

Hueningkai buried his face in her hair, muttering as his eyes locked onto the scene in front of him—Daeun giggling non-stop as Beomgyu smiled brightly.

“I’m here to tease you,”

“Then tease me,” Y/N replied, voice wavering. “Tell me how stupid I am for falling in love with one of my best friends.”

“Falling in love with your best friend isn’t stupid,”

Y/N didn’t reply, watching as Beomgyu leaned forward and planted a kiss on Daeun’s lips.

Kai didn’t speak as Y/N turned around, burying her head in his chest and starting to cry.

He just tightened his grip on her.

“Falling in love with your best friend hurts, Kai,”

Kai smiled sadly.

“I know,” Kai said. “I know how it feels,”

There, four beating hearts stood underneath the same bright stars—nothing but the shining moon to witness the pain and heartache.

The next day, Kai sat next to Y/N and Soobin in the Gryffindor table—chewing happily on a pancake.

Mina, the Gryffindor prefect passed by.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the Hufflepuff table?”

Kai only grinned.

Soobin, who was the other Gryffindor prefect, waved his hand nonchalantly.

“It’s nothing big,” Soobin replied, tearing into another piece of bread—continuing his statement with a mouthful. “People do it all the time,”

“I’m sorry—house divisions exist for a reason. Tables are separate for a reason and—“ Mina’s eyes hardened, mouth opening to argue more.

A body decked in an emerald green plopped down next to Soobin with a groan.

“It’s 7:00 AM on a Sunday, Mina,” Yeonjun glared. “Literally take that stick out of your arse and leave us alone,”

“A Slytherin—“

“Leave or I’ll tell Professor Binns you cheated on your History of Magic exam yesterday, Ms. Prefect,” Yeonjun hissed, effectively shutting down the girl.

After Mina huffed and marched away, Yeonjun rolled his eyes.

“Good morning,”

Soobin greeted back—mouth still full of bread loaves—while Hueningkai waved.

Y/N just gave a weak smile.

“Why are you here?” Soobin asked once he swallowed down his food.

Taehyun arrived, sitting down next to Hueningkai—his blue robes standing out.

“Is it because Beomgyu and his new girlfriend are getting too disgusting?” Taehyun asked, reaching out to take a slice of meat from the serving plate in front of Hueningkai.

“It’s 7 in the morning—I have no patience for that crap—“ Yeonjun said, before raising his voice. “Or you, Mina—shut it!”

Soobin continued chewing, eyebrows furrowing inquisitively.

“Wait,” Soobin tilted his head. “He has a girlfriend now?”

“Yeah, Lee Daeun,” Yeonjun grumbled.

“But—“ Soobin started, is eyes falling on his sister. “Oh, so that’s why.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Y/N asked.

“Talk about what?” Beomgyu’s voice asked as he appeared behind them, hands on Y/N’s shoulders happily.

“Nothing,” Kai grumbled as Beomgyu raised an eyebrow.

“Okay?” He laughed, hand tugging on the sheepish girl behind him. “Everyone, this is Daeun. My girlfriend.”

Y/N didn’t react, only continuing to poke with her food.

“Hi,” Yeonjun grumbled.

“How exactly did this happen?” Soobin piped up.

“Or when?” Taehyun added.

“Last night,” Beomgyu recalled happily. “Remember the letters I’ve been getting? It’s all her.”

Soobin and Yeonjun—who both found out about the letters—and Taehyun—who, much to the dismay of Kai, suggested Y/N do the letters—all widened their eyes to look at the Slytherin girl giggling next to Beomgyu.

“No, she isn’t,” Yeonjun said, pursing his lips at the glare Kai sent his way.

“I am,” Daeun said happily, giggling as she leaned on Beomgyu’s arm. “And now we’re dating and going to the Yule Ball,”

Before anyone could say anything, Y/N slammed her fork on the table and wiped her lips with a napkin.

“I’m not hungry anymore.” Y/N said.

Beomgyu furrowed her eyebrows.

“Y/N, you barely ate.”

“I lost my appetite.”

“But why—“

“That’s because anyone would lose their appetite with you and your girlfriend around, Choi,” a voice declared. “I would retch.”

Kai groaned, head slamming on the table in exasperation.

Soobin continued eating as Yeonjun started to mix a cup of coffee for him and Taehyun—invested in the scene in front of them.

Beomgyu’s eyes immediately darkened as he looked over at the approaching Gryffindor.

It was true—no matter how much a Slytherin or a Gryffindor liked each others’ houses, there’s always that one person from another house that they hate.

In Beomgyu’s case, that was Song Hanbin.

“I don’t recall you being part of the conversation,” Beomgyu quipped to which Hanbin only smirked.

“I don’t recall your friends inviting you over to eat with them,” Hanbin shot back.

“Technically, we invited no one—they just came on their own,” Soobin said, which was ignored.

“Anyways, Choi, don’t worry your pretty little head—I’m not here for you,” Hanbin said. “I’m here for Y/N.”

The said girl’s head shot up, along with Kai’s.

Hanbin turned, smiling over at Y/N.

“I think you’re really beautiful, and I’ve been admiring you from afar for years now,” Hanbin started.

At this point, Hueningkai’s eyes were wide open—a signal for help sent to his hyungs, who were the only ones who knew about his feelings for Y/N.

Granted, he felt weird that her older brother was so invested in his sister’s love affairs.

Soobin and Yeonjun only exchanged a look of panic, Taehyun next to them signalling a cut across his neck.

“Stop it now!” Taehyun mouthed.

“I think you’re a really smart, captivating girl,” Hanbin continued. “And I’d really like it if you went to the Yule Ball with me,”

At this point, Y/N’s eyes darted all over her friends’ faces.

Beomgyu was positively fuming while Hueningkai was burning bright red in panic.

“She’s not going with you,” Beomgyu replied for Y/N.

“Well, that’s not your choice, is it? Focus on your girlfriend.” Hanbin replied, mocking Beomgyu before Y/N spoke.

“I’m not going with you—“ Y/N said. “I’m going with Hueningie,”

At this, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun, Soobin and even Kai himself stopped—freezing as Y/N smiled over at Hanbin.

“Thank you, Hanbin. I’m flattered, but I’m already going as Kai’s date.”

“You are?” Kai squeaked as Beomgyu furrowed his eyebrows.

“That’s unfortunate,” Hanbin smiled, shrugging as he backed away. “Better luck next time, eh?”

“Sure,” Y/N nodded, looking back at Kai.

“You’re going with me?” Kai said, a hopeful tone to his voice.

“Of course,” Y/N started, but was cut off by Beomgyu shaking his head.

“No, you’re not?” Beomgyu said, making Y/N turn to him.

“Why not?”

“You don’t like him, right?” Beomgyu said. “Why are you going on a dance with him?”

“None of your concern, Beomie, or maybe I should just call you Beomgyu.” Y/N sighed, standing up and sending an exasperated nod to a frozen Daeun.

“Huh?” Beomgyu asked.

“Have a nice day,” Y/N cracked a small smile as she nodded over to the couple.

As she left, Kai stood up—shooting Beomgyu an incredulous look.

“Next time, try to clarify who exactly you’re talking to and meeting,” Kai said. “Daeun didn’t send those letters.”

Kai left, following Y/N.

One by one, Taehyun, Soobin and Yeonjun took their leave.

Hogsmeade—the district next to Hogwarts where students frequent to do their purchases and spend on a whim during their stay in Hogwarts.

Soobin and Yeonjun—one of the most sought-after in the school—decided to play a prank on their admirers by going to the ball together.

When offered to buy dress robes together, Yeonjun and Soobin refused to go with Kai and Y/N, choosing to go to instead head to the Shrieking Shack (which the both of them have seen a couple of times already, but still frequent to scare the innocent students looking at it for the first time).

Taehyun decided to be a lone wolf—stating that he’d either leave early or make fun of people with Soobin and Yeonjun.

For dress robes, he said he made a promise to go with his Ravenclaw buddies.

No one has talked to Beomgyu since that day with Daeun.

All five promised to meet up at Three Broomsticks at exactly 7 in the evening. It was currently only 2 in the afternoon.

Kai and Y/N found themselves in Gladrag’s Wizardwear—only among the selected few who decided to go for dressrobes first.

Taehyun was already finished by the time they arrived—waving a goodbye and promising to be at Three Broomsticks.

“Yeonjun and Soobin are going to be stuck in line later,” Y/N said as she thumbed through the selection of dresses.

Kai, with arms already holding a brand new set of plain black dress robes, snorted.

“We did tell them to come with us,” Hueningkai said, eyes locking onto Y/N’s arms. “Will you be wearing all of these?”

“Trying out some of them, yeah,”

“I think you look really beautiful in blue,” Kai said, burning bright red when Y/N looked at him in shock. “Just—Just a suggestion,”

Y/N smiled softly.

“What about red?”

“I think you look beautiful in everything,” Kai said, coughing akwardly as he looked off to the side. “I just really like blue.”

“Okay,”

In the end, Y/N got a beautiful blue dress and they left the store with bags carried in Kai’s left hand, and Y/N holding the other.

Hands still tightly clutched in Hueningkai’s, Y/N pouted as she tried to choose what flavor of no-melt ice cream she would purchase for the day.

“Maybe mint chocolate?” Kai suggested making the girl wince, looking over at the boy who was already eating his own ice cream in the wretched flavor.

“That’s disgusting,” Y/N hissed, scrunching her nose up in disgust. “It’s like eating cold toothpaste.”

“No, it’s not!” Hueningkai argued, making the girl roll her eyes and settle on a flavor.

“Vanilla with Cookie Dough, please,” Y/N requested.

“That’s so boring,” Kai commented as Y/N received her own cup.

“You’re boring!” Y/N shot back.

With a grin, Hueningkai shoved a spoonful of mint chocolate ice cream in Y/N’s mouth—laughing maniacally.

Y/N whined as she pulled the spoon out.

“It tastes so weird,” Y/N groaned.

Hueningkai laughed as Y/N continued to whine, stopping when he saw Y/N’s lips with a small crumb of ice cream.

“Your—uh—“ Kai said. “You have um—“

“What?”

Kai didn’t reply, reaching out and brushing the corner of her lips.

Y/N’s eyes widened as Hueningkai blushed, brushing the crumb off of his hand.

“You had a—“ Hueningkai stopped, eyes locking with Y/N’s. “Something.”

Y/N didn’t speak, eyes searching his as Hueningkai started to lean down.

“Excuse me, are you guys still in line?”

Y/N flinched, stepping back in surprise as Hueningkai turned to a bored-looking Slytherin.

“Oh, uh, no,” Kai replied, hastily pulling Y/N out of the way. “Sorry,”

“Next time, make out somewhere more private than a sweets shop.”

Y/N blushed red as Hueningkai stammered.

Next to them, the ice cream clerk was smiling.

Y/N sat next to Hueningkai in Three Broomsticks—laughing loudly as Yeonjun and Soobin started to argue about some stupid things.

Taehyun smirked off at the side, chiming in every once in a while to aid either party to make the argument bigger and bigger.

Hueningkai and Y/N sat side by side, hands awfully close to one another.

The Hufflepuff breathed deeply, ready to grab Y/N’s hand and intertwine it with his before—

“Hi,” A voice greeted meekly, revealing a shy Slytherin walking up to the table.

“Beomgyu?” Y/N asked in surprise as Beomgyu stepped forward. “Where’s Daeun?”

Beomgyu pursed his lips, shaking his head.

Y/N’s eyes turned sympathetic, hand reaching out to land on Beomgyu’s arm.

“Beomie, it’s okay, you don’t deserve a liar,” Y/N said, smiling.

Beomgyu only smiled, squeezing her hand on his arm.

“Will you meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight, then?”

Y/N chuckled.

“Sure, if you sit down and eat right now.” Y/N smiled back.

Yeonjun snorted, resuming his argument with Soobin.

Beomgyu smiled and took a seat next to Y/N.

At the side, Hueningkai retracted his hand next to Y/N’s.

He’ll probably have to stay with Taehyun, Soobin and Yeonjun for the Yule Ball.

Y/N reached the top of the Astronomy Tower, smiling slightly at the sight of Beomgyu sitting on the ledge of the observation deck.

“Hey,”

“Hi,” Beomgyu replied, still looking up at the stars.

“Just you?” Y/N asked, making Beomgyu laughed as he glanced over at her.

“I promise—no Daeun this time,” Beomgyu said, patting the spot next to him. “Sit.”

“What if I fall?”

“I won’t let you,” Beomgyu smiled, hand steadying the girl as she plopped on the spot next to the boy.

There was a beat of silence before Beomgyu sighed.

“This is how it should have been,” He started, eyes drifting towards Y/N. “Isn’t it?”

Y/N only hummed, chuckling softly.

“Maybe, but things happen.”

Beomgyu smiled, raising an eyebrow.

“So you made me all those letters, huh?”

Y/N winced, shrugging.

“Yeah, blame Taehyun.”

“Oh, I will,” Beomgyu snorted. “He told me you didn’t like me,”

Y/N laughed, looking at Beomgyu. “Well, I told him to.”

Beomgyu only sighed, smiling as he combed a hand through her hair.

“I liked you, Y/N, I always have.” Beomgyu said. “If it was you, and not Daeun, that I met up here that night, it would have been you and me,”

“I was up here, that night,” Y/N shared, shaking her head. “I saw what happened—how she told you it was her and everything.”

“And the kiss?”

“Yeah,”

Beomgyu winced, making Y/N chuckle.

“It’s fine, you know. I had Kai—he followed me,” Y/N explained.

Beomgyu nodded, hand taking hers.

“You know, Y/N,” Beomgyu said. “If you asked me now, I’d say yes.”

Y/N smiled softly—the past few weeks rolling around in her brain.

The one person who cared about her enough to follow her every step of the way, who was there when she got hurt that night.

The one who was there to pick up the pieces and side with her throughout all this time.

The one who always hid in the shadows and backed off when Y/N decided that, no, she wanted to be with Beomgyu instead of him.

She stayed silent, only looking up at Beomgyu who grinned understandingly.

“Yeah, okay,” Beomgyu laughed, making Y/N smile in relief. “So, you don’t like me anymore?”

“Oh, I do,” Y/N laughed. “You’re my best friend, Beomie—I’ll always like you,”

“But?” “Not as much as I used to,” Y/N snorted.

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow as Y/N fiddled with her fingers.

“There’s someone else.”

“Oh?”

“I, uh, realized I always liked him—I just never knew.” Y/N explained, groaning at Beomgyu’s teasing smirk. “Shut up, Choi.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“I know you’re thinking it!”

Beomgyu laughed shaking his head as he leaned back on his hands.

“In the back of my mid, I kind of always knew.” Beomgyu hummed, making Y/N sigh.

Beomgyu turned to his best friend, dusting his robes.

“Do you want me to walk you back to the Gryffindor tower?”

“I think I’ll stay for a bit.”

Beomgyu nodded, smiling and kissing her on the cheek.

“Good luck,” he said.

“Thank you,” Y/N muttered, eyes trained up as her heart felt a little lighter.

There she sat, under the shine of the stars—her heart admitting the words her heart always knew.

Hueningkai stammered as Beomgyu dragged him to the Gryffindor tower, straight from the entrance of the Hufflepuff dorms.

“Beomgyu, wh—“

Hueningkai fussed, successfully shaking the boy off of his arm by the entrance to the Gryffindor towers.

“Kau, where the hell were you?” Yeonjun whined.

Soobin only tilted his head inquisitively as Taehyun seemed unbothered.

“I was—I was planning to come to the Great Hall when the ball started—“

“You had a date,” Beomgyu hissed. “Dude, really?”

Kai furrowed his eyebrows.

“But—“ Kai stammered. “I thought you and her—“

“No, Kai,” Beomgyu sighed, an exasperated smile on his face.

“Oh,”

“Hueningie?”

Kai jumped in surprise, heads turning to Y/N as she exited the Gryffindor tower with a soft smile.

Hueningkai melted on the spot as he saw the blue dress Y/N had picked on their trip to Hogsmeade when he mentioned he liked blue.

He stammered on the spot as Y/N walked over.

Yeonjun and Soobin looked on in amusement, wiping fake tears off of their faces as they muttered about how “they grow up so fast,”

Taehyun and Beomgyu looked on proudly, chattering amongst themselves.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Hueningkai started as he offered out his arm, scrunching his face. “I meant you look beautiful every night, but especially tonight—I—“

“Thanks, Kai,” Y/N smiled, looping her arm through his. “You look beautiful too.”

He only smiled.

A swirl of colors mixed on the dance floor.

Laughter and excitement filled the Great Hall.

By the buffet table, Yeonjun and Soobin fought over the last piece of loaved bread.

Taehyun and Beomgyu idly conversed in a nearby table.

Kai and Y/N awkwardly held hands, slow-dancing upon the insistence of Beomgyu and Taehyun. (Yeonjun and Soobin actually couldn’t be bothered because they were more concerned with the food table.)

Kai coughed softly, blushing a bright red as Y/N smiled in amusement.

“Are you feeling weird?” Y/N asked making Hueningkai shake his head.

“No, I’m okay,”

“You feel awkward?” Y/N laughed as Kai shook his head. “Come on, let’s go out,”

Kai breathed heavily as Y/N pulled him away, her eyes locking with Beomgyu who shot her a thumbs up.

Hueningkai burned a bright red as they exited the Great Hall and made their way to the Black Lake.

“What, are you drowning me today?” Kai teased as he sat by the shoreline.

Y/N snorted, tilting her head.

“Yeah, probably,” Y/N grinned, about to take a seat if it wasn’t for Hueningkai gasping.

“Wait, no—“

Hueningkai pulled off his dress robes and set it on the ground.

Y/N shot him a tiny smile and sat, arms wrapping around her knees.

“So,” Hueningkai said, pursing his lips as Y/N glanced up at the bright moon.

“Remember how we used to look up at the night sky when we were kids?” Y/N asked, making Kai laugh.

“Yeah,” Kai snorted. “I remember we used to say we’d run away with Beomgyu, Taehyun, Soobin and Yeonjun on broomsticks and live off of Chocolate Frogs and Licorice Wands,”

“Simpler times,” Y/N smiled. “That was before I had a crush on Beomgyu.”

At the mention of the older Slytherin, Hueningkai practically deflated on the spot.

He looked back up at the night sky, eyes trailing over at the moon.

“I think I’m like the stars,” Hueningkai said.

“Hm?”

“I’m always there, always shining and waiting for someone to see me—but I always get ignored for the moon,” Hueningkai explained, a penchant look on his face as Y/N turned to him. “but even if I am, I’ll stay there—waiting for that one shot to be seen, even if it’s the time I fall,”

Y/N didn’t reply, leaning her head on her knees as Kai continued to rant.

“I-I—“ Kai said, looking back down at the girl. “I’m a star just waiting for you to see me,”

Y/N smiled softly as Kai continued.

“Y/N, I like you,” Kai breathed heavily, almost as if relieved he spoke the words. “I’ve been holding this back for years and now it’s out. I like you.”

Y/N straightened up, smiling widely.

“Really?”

“Really, and it feels so light to say it—wow. I mean I know you like Beomgyu, and by all the means go for him, but I just really want to admit it and—“

Courage is one of the qualities encompassed by a Gryffindor.

It took great courage for Y/N to lean forward to plant a quick kiss on Hueningkai’s lips.

Kai stopped his rambling, eyes wide as he looked over at Y/N.

His first kiss.

Y/N pulled away, smiling shyly as she looked back up.

“Yeah, yeah,” She scoffed lightheartedly. “I like you, too.”

Hueningkai blinked, hand creeping up to touch his lips.

“You-You kissed me?”

“Shut up,” Y/N snorted, burning bright red in embarrassment. “It was my first kiss too, you know,”

Hueningkai’s smile slowly appeared, widening rapidly as he relaxed in his seat.

Y/N shifted, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulders.

“The stars look beautiful tonight—“ Y/N said. “Brighter than the moon, even.”

Hueningkai only smiled, turning his head to the side as he laid another soft kiss on her lips underneath the blanket of the brightest stars.

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luthienebonyx · 4 years ago

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Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 5 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better.

Tagged by: @pretty--thief and @albatrossisland - thanks!

Name/nickname: Luthien, but I also answer to L because my real name also starts with L. That way I don’t have to think about which me I’m supposed to be at any one time.

Gender: Female

Star sign: Pisces

Height: 179cm (which is about 5′10″ in American)

Birthday: 8 March

Time: 11.38pm

Favorite bands: Lots of Australian 1980s pub bands you’ve never heard of

Favorite solo artists: Someone I was talking about the other day. I forget who.

Song stuck in my head: Here Comes Your Man by the Pixies. It was part of my listening soundtrack for the last couple of stories I wrote, which were slash.

Last movie: The last one I saw at the cinema before the world changed was Emma. I must have watched one since then. Maybe? Can’t remember.

Last show: Staged

When did I create this blog: 2012. A friend got into OUAT fandom and dragged me along with her, so tumblr happened to both of us.

What do I post: fic posts when I have them, the very occasional personal post, and then I reblog whatever catches my eye, which tends to be mostly humour, fanart, stills from various fannish canons, cats and 18-19th century clothing

Last thing googled: Ellie Bamber because I saw her name somewhere and wondered if she was related to Jamie Bamber. (Answer: doesn’t look like it.)

Other blogs: I’m Luthien on dreamwidth, which I still use sporadically, particularly in January when I do the Fandom Snowflake challenge. I’ve also had a twitter account for approximately a million years, whose existence I forget about for weeks and months at a time.

Do I get asks: Sometimes. One of the most recent was when @whiteorangeflower rashly asked me for my opinions on Bridgerton. That one got long.

Why I chose my url: I’ve been Luthien in fandom since 1998-ish, but when I arrived on tumblr someone already had that one. Ebonyx is the nickname of my much-loved and now-departed cat Ebony. So my url is basically “me and my cat”.

Following: 226 (though some of those are no doubt old and abandoned. I should do some pruning)

Followers: 857

Average hours of sleep: anywhere between 0-4 (not good) and 5-9 (okay), and occasionally about 12 when I’ve had too many 0-4 nights in a row.

Lucky number: 4, because why not?

Instruments: I spent years learning the piano, and a while on guitar. I still own both a guitar and a piano, but I play them so infrequently that the dog started barking in alarm the last time I sat down at the piano - it actually made a noise!

What am I wearing: a long, loose light kaftan thing in shades of green plus the odd bit of pink.

Dream job: The job I’m no longer well enough to do. *sigh* Maybe a novelist, if I ever get my act together.

Dream trip: Pretty much anywhere. The borders of my city are currently closed to people from several other parts of the country, and while technically I could, say, take a trip to the coast, the government is strongly advising against it. I really, REALLY don’t want to be somewhere and then have a state border slam shut while I’m on the wrong side of it. Basically, I’m stuck here for the time being. (It would be nice to see my mum again at some point... *sigh*)

Favorite food: Anything with a nice mix of Indian spices usually works for me best.

Nationality: Australian

Favorite song: Many, but the most enduring is Don’t Change by INXS

Last book read: Friday’s Child by Georgette Heyer, which was the fandom I wrote for Yuletide. (Also, I’ve listened to bits of various Bridgerton audiobooks over the last few days while I’ve been unwell and not up to anything else.)

Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in:

1) Georgette Heyer’s version of the Regency period (1811-1820) but only if I could be a duchess

2) I keep thinking of various other fictional universes that I’ve enjoyed watching/reading about/writing about and just...

3) NO. Not for living in. I like my creature comforts.

Tagging: I’m late doing this so probably everybody’s already done it. But if you haven’t done it and would like to, say that I tagged you and go for it!

#memes

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noctisfishing · 4 years ago

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2020 Wrap-Up and 2021 Wishes

I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to do this or not, but I decided, why not? Even though this year was pretty wild for everyone in various ways, I want to celebrate my writing progress and accomplishments, and share with you what I wish for in 2021.

I’ve already posted a similar post on Reddit, although this one has a more detailed breakdown and includes my fic titles! I won’t link any of the fics mentioned, but you can visit my FFN or AO3 pages to find them. You can also click through my Welcome Post or find them all listed here (if you’re on desktop) (*every project I talk about can be found somewhere on my Tumblr :D)

Click below for some nice Fic Stats!! (mostly wordcounts and rambling!!)

Preview: I wrote a good amount of words, got some nice progress on some long fics, churned out dozens of ficlets!! Plus: What’s on my fic mind for 2021, and a short bit about other personal wins.

Before I ramble with numbers, I think we can all agree that we should say goodbye to 2020 this way:

Now, the numbers you’ll see are close approximations to how much I’ve written this year. I’m including works that I’ve published on AO3, FFN, Tumblr, and Reddit, and also works unpublished (and will post probably next year).

So, here it is:

Total Wordcount: 107,662 words!

Dang, I wrote a lot more than I thought. I think there was one year that I wrote 200,000 in a year and I’ve always set that number as my standard. But I’m still pretty happy with this year’s number! I think I’ll make 100K my “soft goal” for 2021 given how topsy-turvy life can go but it would be awesome to hit 200K again :)

And now, we break it down:

Completed Works (54,432 words)

2 Multi-Chaptered Fics (10,353 words)

Both happen to be Sorato! I posted the last chapter of The Sound of His Goodbye back in March (I started the fic late 2019), and I posted all of The Last One Wins towards the end of November. Both gave me reminders earlier and later on in the year that I can complete fics, haha! It’s possible!!! \o/

38 Ficlets/Scenes (19,667 words)

“Ficlets” don’t typically have a wordcount but are generally less than 1,000 words. I’d have to say that the impact of quitting my job, moving back home, and the pandemic brought on major changes and responsibilities that I had to adapt to. Simpler, smaller scale ideas were easier on my basket case of a mind and kept me writing, and that is most likely why for most of the year my inspiration was more drawn toward different little scenes. I got to write for and explore six new fandoms outside of Digimon which is cool!

When I say “scenes,” I mean those that either didn’t fit in the (slightly) larger works I’ve published, or those for future projects (which technically shouldn’t be counted as “complete” but I had to stick them somewhere :P).

9 One-Shots (24,412 words)

Day 6 Prompt of Takari Week just barely made it to be counted as a One-Shot, but the rest in this category are all Taiora: six for Taiora Week, as well as The Princess and the Dragon, and Colors in Distance. The Color Shot was actually sitting unfinished in my drafts for a few months so I’m glad I found the motivation to finish it before the year’s end. The other fics were inspired by prompts with deadlines - this was the first year I’ve participated and completed those and I’m happy I did them!

Works in Progress (53,230 words)

I’ve posted one new chapter each for Digital Recovery (4,770 words) and Tsukiakari (2,292 words) and I had the hope of working more on both of these this year! But you know, this year was tough (see also why I threw so many ficlets at my readers). I had three huge ongoing longfics and I made the decision to set these aside and put my main focus on one of those so as not to overwhelm myself. These fics are mostly planned out. They just need to be written more! We’ve got a long way to go with both of these.

Just One Drink (10,131 words) was.. probably my most popular fic this year, lol. I don’t see this one being too long (I would be surprised if it goes past 50K) but I see myself continue to update this next year. ;)

And let’s talk about The Spark of Dawn (DoreDore Adventure Part II) (24,316 words). This was my chosen longfic to focus on this year, as evidenced by the wordcount, and even the number of chapters I’ve posted - three with 10,659 words total. This fic also carried me through July’s Camp NaNoWriMo where I reached my word count goal of 12,000 words. I think two chapters from that event ended up being posted, and there are still 13,657 words’ worth of content yet to be published. Overall, I think half of this story has been written out (including the content I haven’t posted yet) but that being said, this fic remains as one of my priorities to finish before moving along to my other WIPs!

Here’s a list of the rest of my unpublished works:

Untitled Taiorato Fic (1,433 words)

More Taiora Snapshots (2,454 words)

The Girl Who Stands Out (7,834 words) - This one is a Mimato, and should show up really soon. ;)

2021 Wishes: My main wish is for me to *keep writing*!

I’m already making some pretty elaborate spreadsheets for myself to help track my personal writing and reader stats. Hopefully they help motivate me in my writing progress in 2021!

Toward the end of the year, I felt the need to “clear out” my plot bunnies folder and realized that fics from few ideas weren’t going to be as long as I initially thought. That’s where The Last One Wins came from, as well as The Girl Who Stands Out. I think once the latter is all written out, I will work more on DoreDore and see where it goes.

I want to tackle my “Write Your Melody” prompts, because since I’ve written them I feel obligated to. XD I’m sure there will be room for more ficlets and one-shots in next year’s endeavors; while it’s ideal to work on one big longfic until it’s done, I know for a fact that I’ll need writing breaks along the way.

Other Personal Wins (Not Writing-Related): This year, left a job and living situation that took a toll on my mental health. I also started to learn R and SQL programming languages. I was asked to be a moderator of one of my favorite communities! I made new friendships and a few of my friendships grew. And I found joy and comfort in things I hadn’t been able to in years’ past. I had a fair share of rough moments this year, but looking back at my small wins gave me reminders of the good I have. <3

If you made it to the end of this post, GO YOU. I’m optimistic that next year will bring more good things. I hope to continue remembering to take time to breathe and rest, and keep talking to my friends and loved ones. Many of my wishes are for long-term goals/projects in general, but rather than setting year-end deadlines, I want to focus on just working on them, my efforts varying between chipping away at them little by little, or hardcore-drop-everything-and-spend-the-weekend.

Anyway, thank you for reading! I wish you all the best as we head toward a new year. <3

#noct musings #end of year wrap up #2020 #noctiswriting #writing progress update

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townhulls · 4 years ago

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2020 fic year in review!

tagged by the lovely @enchi-elm! thank you darling!

total number of completed stories: 9! that is somehow much more than i expected it to be, haha.

total number of words: 85,525! also much more than i expected, wow!

fandoms written in: band of brothers, hockey rpf, the pacific, turn, and undrafted! i love my ensemble casts.

top 5 by word count:

1. tyson barrie gets his groove back, and other unlikely stories - hockey rpf, 29,533 words

2. pales in comparison to love - turn, 17,153 words

3. Choice Theory - hockey rpf, 13,215 words

4. the things that fate had willed - the pacific, 9,827 words

5. a little less human - the pacific, 4,963 words (rip… my one and only abandoned fic…)

top 5 by kudos:

1. tyson barrie gets his groove back, and other unlikely stories - hockey rpf

2. got no brakes - hockey rpf

3. the things that fate had willed - the pacific

4. Choice Theory - hockey rpf*

5. simply going forward - band of brothers

*technically my 4th most-kudosed fic is actually a fic i published anonymously, but i’m not going to put it here because it’s anonymous for a reason lmao.

top fic overall: in terms of stats, definitely tyson barrie gets his groove back. i’ll own up to a bunch of crosstagging to explain the hits/kudos lol, but it’s also the longest one-shot i’ve ever written and i’ve gotten a ton of lovely feedback on it!

looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected? oh hell yeah i wrote more than i expected. honestly, march was filled with such writing malaise that i wasn’t expecting to get any writing done over quarantine, period. but starting in about late may, stuff just started to go right for me. i even participated in my first ever fic exchange! and even though classes have been killing me for the last few months, now that i’m on break i’ve managed to rekindle that writing fervor, which i am unspeakably glad for.

what’s your own favorite story of the year? this is so difficult! the obvious choice is tyson barrie gets his groove back, as mentioned above. but also, pales in comparison to love was the product of a year and a half of love-induced labor. to get that done was such a relief. but ALSO, the things that fate had willed is one of my favorite fics i’ve ever written, and i miss writing sidgene like, daily. in the end though, i think this one has to go to got no brakes. i just truly enjoyed writing it, and it’s not every day that your girlfriend embroiders an entire pillow in honor of your hockey rpf fic.

did you take any writing risks this year? oh, where to start? as enchi-elm mentioned, erotica is hard, and this is the first year i’ve really sort of dived into it! also, the amount of research i’ve put into my writing this year, from the price of a record player in the late 40s, to the various functions of ship parts in the golden age of piracy, to just getting time periods and rosters straight for rpf… is definitely unprecedented for me.

do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? yes!! i’m currently slaving away at my avs small town au, which was supposed to be short and is now 28k and counting. hopefully it will be done by next year, haha… after that i’ve been thinking about a dystopia au a la ionthesparrow’s hockey at the end of the world, and i still have an unfinished sidgene fic that’s been sitting in my drafts since january.

story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: cough it out for sure! granted, i wrote it for fun and mostly as a joke, but the undrafted tag is so tiny that, uh, it has 14 hits and no kudos. (i was going to say either Choice Theory or the things that fate had willed, but that’s just because those are rarepairs lmao.)

most fun story to write? got no brakes!

most unintentionally telling story? haha um. all of them? idk all of my writing is weirdly personal. if you’ve ever read my fic you have Perceived me and i’m sorry.

biggest disappointment? oh, definitely abandoning a little less human. i had a playlist for it and everything, and a 3-page long plot synopsis for what i wanted to happen. unfortunately, while i love sledgefu dynamics and writing about pirates, sidgene snagged hold of me and… didn’t really let go.

biggest surprise: hockey rpf! if you told me in september 2019 that a) i’d be invested in a sport, b) that sport was HOCKEY, and c) i’d be writing real person fanfiction about hockey players like, in a serious capacity, i’d have laughed at you. but here we are, and what a ride it’s been.

again, thank you so much for the tag! i’m bad at tagging people so if you see this & feel compelled by forces unknown, consider this your tag!

#long post #rpf talk #this was so fun!!#my writing

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ergothereforethus · 5 years ago

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Year in Review: Fanfiction

Copied this from robo-cryptid, anyone else natchrally feel free to copy from me!

Total number of completed stories: 19

Total word count: 42,032 (my highest ever yearly word count!)

Fandoms written in: American Vandal, Arrested Development, Galavant, House MD, Leverage, Pretty Little Liars, Shadowhunters, Veep (and another fandom for Yuletide, but I can’t reveal that information yet :) )

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected? More! I had an unprecedentedly prolific January and February, and finished my longest fic to date in March. Pretty much crickets until August, when I entered 2 flash exchanges (and the rarepairs exchange revealed) and published around ten thousand words within the span of a few weeks. Since then, fall semester has been super busy, and I only managed to post for my netflix originals exchange and for Yuletide. All in all, a very good, if spotty, writing year for me!

What’s your own favorite story of the year? These may not have been the most well-received (or even the most well-written), but the two fics I had the most fun writing were be very careful if you don’t know where you’re going (because you might not get there) (AV) and Don’t You Know The Truth? (House MD). I list them together because they’re both casefics! I had never successfully written anything like that before this year, and while they’re certainly rough around the edges in some places, I think I grew a lot as a writer and had an enormously fun time writing them.

Did you take any writing risks this year? Signing up for the rarepairs exchange and offering Pretty Little Liars was a bit of a risk. Writing that exchange fic (Spencer/Mona) took a lot of work, but I’m really happy with the way it turned out. Also, I tried my hand at writing explicit fic for the first (real) time this year: the frantic beat of the hearts (Isabella/Madalena). Certainly not the best-written thing in the archive, but not completely awful, especially considering it was written for a flash exchange and I didn’t have forever to revise.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? Last year I entered the Get Your Words Out challenge with the goal of writing 120 days in 2019, and fell very short at around 85. I don’t think I’m going to enter again - in 2020, I really just want to find a fandom I’m crazy excited about again. Oh, and I can’t forget: I must finish my IT Crowd triple bodyswap fic by January 25 2020!

Most popular story of the year? I would say throwing rocks at your window (AV). I think it’s so popular because I posted it on Valentine’s Day, and it contains some of the tropes the AV fandom has shown that they love best. To be honest it’s not my absolute favorite AV fic, but it was a lot of fun to write.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Gosh, I don’t know! I feel like I’ve been very lucky this year in terms of feedback. (Entering exchanges also definitely helped.) If I had to choose, maybe Werewolves Don’t Go to Summer Camp (AV). It has the fewest hits of all my Peter/Sam fic, maybe because of its slightly strange title. If you’re not familiar with the Bailey School Kids books, it could certainly be offputting.

Most fun story to write: I had a ton of fun writing the plottier of the two fics I wrote for Yuletide. I’ll make sure to post here after reveals. In terms of works I can currently link to, I loved writing the insults and dialogue in For Better or For Worse (Veep, Sue/Kent but mostly team banter).

Most unintentionally telling story: Hahaha. I feel like this is a euphemism for “story you projected the most onto,” and I will answer it as such: An Orange on the Seder Plate, which is about Chloe Lyman and also tangentially Peter and Sam.

Biggest disappointment: This is technically a disappointment from last year, but I’ll cheat. I wish I had known about the concept of redating in exchanges and had redated my Yuletide 2018 assignment, tell me in words unspoken. It’s one of my favorite works I’ve written in American Vandal, and I feel like it might have gotten more hits if I’d redated. But this is small potatoes. I’ve had a very good, generally undisappointing year.

Biggest surprise: I did not expect A (Legally) Compelling Argument to get so many hits and such nice feedback! I wrote it as a last-minute treat in the Just Married Exchange and got such lovely comments from the recipient @autisticgreghouse and from other exchange participants.

#mutuals tag me if you do this! I want to read :3

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mfackenthal · 5 years ago

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The MFackenthal Show with Birthday Girl @lilyofchoices

banner by @whenyourheartskipsabeat

~~~~~

Megs: Hello hello hello! Today is a very very very special day and I am so excited to announce my next guest. Please give an extra special welcome to our birthday girl, Lily!

The crowd stands up and cheers as Lily comes from off stage, waves to the crowd and gives Megs a big hug! When Lily sits down, the audience get quiet.

Megs: Wow! Look at how you command this crowd, Lily. This group loves you! I cannot believe you have only been here since March.

Lily: I know! It feels like it has been so much longer.

Megs: So, how did you come up with your tumblr handle?

Lily: I hate coming up with names and titles. They are the bane of my existence. Just ask any of my friends on tumblr I’m constantly asking them for help or whining at them. Thank the gods I have help. So my tumblr handle is super boring and unoriginal. It is my name (well one of my middle names) and I’m “of the choices fandom” so...of choices. Yeah, you can groan. It’s bad. I know.

Megs: Are you really telling me, MFackenthal, that your handle is unoriginal?

Lily: laughs

Megs: Anyways, tell me, what brought you to the fandom?

Lily: Well, I live for crazy and this site definitely delivers on that. Joking, kinda. In all honesty, I created that tumblr on a whim after I went looking for more fanfic to read. I found @perriewinklenerdie @hopelessromantic1352 and @ahumanmishap and loved their writing. Their writing inspired me to just go for it! I created this blog just to post shit and geek out with myself about the newest chapter releases and share whatever fics I discovered. I never in a million years expected to find so many friends and awesome people.

Megs: But find so many friends you did!

Lily: Yes, I did! They’re all amazing. Well … takes calming breath I’ve had my fair share of disagreements in this fandom and while the haters are hard to deal with and they can get exhausting, they are far, FAR outnumbered by those in this fandom that are here to have fun and be crazy and silly and don’t care if your opinions differ from their own. I live for those types of beautiful people that make this fandom amazing! Plus have you seen the level of talent from the writers and artists in this fandom? I’m constantly in awe of them all.

Megs: The talent amazes me every day! Speaking of talent - what’s your favorite work that you have created?

Lily: Damn girl. You are asking all the tough questions. Why ya gotta do that to me?

Megs: laughs and shrugs her shoulders It’s kinda my job, girl!

Lily: smirks I guess I'd have to say that I love the first chapter of my Merida fic. I wrote it as a distraction, a break if you will, from my real life writing which is dry and boring. We had all just made our way through the Open Heart chapter where Ethan tells mc that Naveen is dying and then Pb won’t let us even hug Ethan. I desperately wanted that so I decided to write it. I’m going on chapter 32 of that fic now. I need help. Oh, but my favorite as far as fandom reactions goes was definitely the chapter where that dirty rat stabs Merida. Y'all lost your minds and it was hilarious.

The audience gasps. “Oh yeah, I remember that chapter.” “Landry is the worst.” Members of the audience whisper.

Megs: I remember that chapter. I feared you’d go the way of @laniquelovewrites and kill Merida!

Lily: winks

Megs: shakes her head Do you have any advice for other writers or artists? Especially those from within the fandom?

Lily: Well, talking to all you not-yet-writers out there - take the ducking leap lovelies! Do it! Don’t worry about language, grammar, flow, tempo, timing, editing, just write it. I rarely edit mine beyond a cursory review. And ya know what? This fandom loves whatever you give us. And I’m at the front of that line waiting to read it. Seriously! Tag me in anything you write!

Also, don’t be concerned about likes and reblogs. My first fic only got like 15 likes when I first released it. It’s hard not to get caught up in wanting likes and reblogs and comments. Hell, I live for them. And ya want to think that a lack of those means no one likes it, but trust me, there are plenty of people enjoying your work that don’t like, comment, or reblog. Try not to focus on the likes but on your fic and know that there are those out there enjoying the hell out of it!

And I’m always willing to review anything and everything. If you want someone to look it over first, I am here for you. But I warn you now, I will encourage you to share it with everyone.

By the end of this little speech, the entire audience is up and clapping. Standing ovation.

Megs: Look at that crowd, Lily. It’s obvious that you speak the truth.

Lily: Whispers to Megs: Don’t worry - I can get them all to sit down. Ask me about the choices books.

Megs: So Lily, have you read all of the choices books?

Lily: I feel like I’m going to have to duck behind this couch as soon as I say what I’m about to say. No, I’ve not played them all. I’ve played most. I tried to play The Freshman, Big Sky Country, Sunkissed, and America’s Most Eligible but I couldn’t. I have replayed countless books. Thomas, Ethan, Sonia, the entire Perfect Match crew, the entire Nightbound crew, and Jake - I’ve played all of their options.

Now Megs, I have only admitted this once and after this we will never speak of it again hangs head in shame I am a sucker for one particularly hated Choices book. Want to take a guess? I've, no joke, replayed this more times than I should admit. No one will follow me after this. I...I, love Home for the Holidays.

Lily gets up and ducks behind couch while many in the crowd sit down.

Lily: This is now my home. I will live back here so no one can see me in my shame.

Megs: walks around the couch to sit with Lily loudly saying: Well, as I enjoyed that book a lot and very much miss Nick, if you live back here then I will have to live back here with you … but this is kinda a crappy place to continue this interview so I’m gonna move back to front of the couch, okay?

Megs walks back around the couch and sits down.

Well, you did get people to sit down, Lily. Gives her audience the stink eyes. Where were we? Oh yes, which book is your favorite?

Lily: stands up behind the couch Well, I’m going to stay behind the couch at this point because I'm not going to say Open Heart and I know I'm going to hear about it. Hero is my favorite book. It was the first I played and I absolutely loved it! The art! The characters! The story! It had it all! If Pb doesn't give me Hero 2 in 2020 I’m not sure what I’ll do now that they’ve teased me. But I’ve also learned that they like to tease me. Lily jumps over the couch in a superhero type move and lands sitting down next to Megs.

Megs: Nice moves! So who is your favorite OTP?

Lily: I will always say Detective Jason Shaw and my mc Ashtyn Stark to this question. I loved the book RoD until the end when our option of which side to help disappeared and we had to help MPC. I was so excited to see a book that allowed you to pick which side to help, Police/Brotherhood, MPC, or both. You should know by now that I love the villains and all I wanted was for my mc to side with Shaw.

Bryce and Harper are another OTP for me. I found a few others out there that ship this but @tallulahshh is a godsend when it comes to this ship. Her fics on these two are so amazing! For reals, you should all check them out. She will convince you that this is the ship to be on.

Megs: Gasps! I should kick you off this couch for loving a Bryce ship over an Ethan ship. YOU WRITE FOR ETHAN!

Lily: What can I say? The heart wants who it wants.

Megs: Yeah, yeah. What do you do when you’re not producing work for the fandom? What else do you do for fun?

Lily: I teach Latin and Formal Logic and I also write (journalism and academic pieces). My fanfics are my break from my dry writings. I know y'all are dying to read about how Latin could revitalize the modern American educational system. I love to cook, read, hike, and spend time with my family. I live in the city now but I'm a country girl at heart. Give me open fields to run through, dense forests to explore, water to kayak on and I'm a happy one.

Megs: That sounds wonderful. Lily, one last question - do you have any questions for me?

Lily: Ah, you should not give me this power. What non-LI would you make a LI if you could and why? I must know, please tell me!

Megs: Oh, that’s easy - Bastien! The drama is already built in because of his part in the Tariq plot and damn @stopforamoment, @bobasheebaby, and @lolablackwrites have made that man irresistible.

A second and more strange one is actually Emerald Phan from High School Story: A Class Act Chapter 2. She’s technically an adult when I’m (MC) technically a high schooler … but I would date this gal. She’s gorgeous!

Before you leave, Lily, I need to ask one last thing of you. Please close your eyes.

Lily closes her eyes

@msjpuddleduck, @anxious-arliah, @meindraws, @keepcreative, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @tallulahshh, @twin-skltns all come on stage, pushing a large cart with a beautiful cake that says “Happy Birthday Lily!” They all start singing Happy Birthday. The entire audience joins in.

As soon as people start singing, Lily opens her eyes and smiles really big.

Lily: Oh my gosh, you guys, I love it!

Megs: Happy Birthday, Lily! We’re all sooooo glad that you’re here. Blow out your candles, beautiful!

Lily: Takes a deep breath and blows out the candles in one puff.

The audience cheers!

Megs: It’s cake for everyone!

Those on stages start cutting and plating the cake. Others start handing a slice to everyone in the audience.

Megs: And that’s today’s show everyone! Thanks for coming! Join me next time when @hopelessromantic1532 will be the guest star. Have a GREAT week and please, join me in wishing @lilyofchoices a wonderful birthday!

~~~~~

I’m guessing @lilyofchoices will get this when she wakes up - but it should be officially her birthday right now!

And now for the tags. If you want to be added to the tag list for these or removed, please let me know!

@hopefulmoonobject @queen-among-writers, @hopelessromantic1352, @lilyofchoices, @msjpuddleduck, @theroyalweisme, @lady-kato

#The MFackenthal Show #Guest Start lilyofchoices #Happy Birthday Lily!#Happy Birthday Lilyofchoices!#Episode 11 #Behind the couch is a safe space #I miss Nick from Home for the Holidays

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welllpthisishappening · 6 years ago

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Have Your Cake [And Eat It Too] (Part 1)

Killian can't seem to stop moving. It's a nervous habit. He's a little nervous. Because they've been waiting forever and he's been waiting forever and he really just wants them to be a family. Officially.

Emma needs to keep moving. To win. She's very competitive. And she's needs a distraction. Because they've been waiting forever and trying a bit longer and she really just wants them to be a family. Officially

Or: Another quasi Out of the Frying Pan sequel with the legal system and Kitchen Stadium.

Word Count: Like 8.5 KILLIAN’S GOT PATERNAL FEELINGS, OK Rating: A pretty low T, but with kissing! AN: Oh hai, internet! I have a lot of fic in my docs that’s been sitting there for months (I wrote this in July, ha) and I’ve just decided to...start posting it. This is another Out of the Frying Pan two-shot sequel-type thing and timeline-wise, it kind of happens during The Anti-Pumpkin Brigade. Like after Henry helps Killian bake, but before it ends. This will make sense once you read it, I swear. Thanks for reading if you do.

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll, with Emma’s POV on Friday.

His tie felt like it was going to strangle him.

He kept tugging on it, yanking and twisting and it wasn’t really helping that whole breathing thing, but Killian figured that was a lost cause as soon as they’d been told to wait in the hallway. They weren’t given a timetable.

That felt unfair.

But that might have just been whatever his tie was doing to his windpipe.

He’d definitely knotted it too tightly.

And he hadn’t even knotted it – Emma had, far surer fingers that morning and they’d shook a little, but it was less than him and they were both nervous and Killian couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d taken a deep breath. It might have been before they got in the car.

Regina had ordered them a car.

Killian licked his lips, feet following the same path they’d been marching for however long they’d been in that hallway and he could feel Emma’s eyes on him, gaze following every turn and twist and there was another set of footsteps just behind him, like they were trying to imitate him or something decidedly familial and only a little overwhelming.

He turned, a quick twist of his hips and a far too loud squeak of the dress shoes he’d actually gone out and bought a week before and it was a miracle they hadn’t run into each other before, so it only served that they ran into each other then. Henry’s body was impossibly solid when it collided with Killian’s front, Emma’s gasp sounding impossibly loud in that hallway once they both stopped pacing.

Killian groaned and Henry let out a noise that might have be some kind of grunt, forehead colliding with several different body parts. He, somehow, managed to step on Killian’s right foot as well, an elbow digging into something that may have been his spleen or possibly one of his kidneys, but he didn't need both of those so that seemed like a moot point.

And fatherhood probably required some kind of kidney sacrifice.

Killian would have been willing to go that far if it got them out of the hallway with a concrete answer. Or, at least, let him take off his goddamn tie.

But all of that felt kind of extreme and his arm wrapped around Henry’s middle on instinct and maybe that was more important than invasive surgery.

“God, why are you so immobile?” Henry mumbled, not lifting his head away from Killian’s collarbone. They’d both taken their jackets off at some point, and Emma was wearing one of them, the other tossed in the corner of the bench they’d both ignored for the better part of the last hour.

They’d been in that hallway for an hour.

“You were following me, kid,” Killian argued. He could feel Henry’s answering laugh as easily as he heard it, and it felt wrong to hope that there was a smile there too, but he knew there was and that happened pretty consistently.

Family Court should consider that.

There should have been a teenage-smile quota or something that sounded way better than that did. Killian was obviously going insane. He was going to blame his tie.

And how the walls in that hall seemed to be closing in.

Henry was still standing on his foot.

“Small space,” Henry muttered.

“We should have asked for multiple hallways.” “So we could all pace. I know Mom wants to, too.” Emma snapped her head up at the accusation, eyes bright and smile only slightly incredulous, but Killian knew she wanted to pace too and she really was absolutely heinous at lying. That was probably good for Family Court too.

She wouldn’t have lied about how much Henry wanted this.

“I’m sitting here,” Emma said, waving a hand through the air like that proved her point. Henry hummed, lower lip stuck out slightly and disbelief practically radiating off him. She clicked her tongue. “And it’s a miracle neither one of you sustained any broken bones.” “I don’t think either one of us is quite that brittle, Swan,” Killian countered.

Emma’s mouth twitched, and he hadn’t said it for anything except the habit and the instinct it absolutely was, but it wasn’t quite right either and they hadn’t gotten married to help make all of this easier, but it did help and being married was...kind of fantastic.

Actually.

There were probably better words for it, more detailed adjectives and things that didn’t sound quite as juvenile as fantastic, but Emma’s fingers had absolutely shook when she tied his tie that morning and Killian couldn’t really breathe and the teenager still standing in the same few feet of space as him desperately wanted them all to be a family.

Officially.

Family Court should consider that as well.

Because it really was just a technicality. That apartment three blocks away from The Jolly was their home in the way home was supposed to be, with dirty dishes in the sink that consistently drove Emma insane and her shoes in a pile behind the door that consistently drove Killian insane and they regularly just closed Henry’s bedroom door so they didn’t have to acknowledge what was going on behind it. But there were also Sunday morning breakfasts and handwritten recipes hanging on the refrigerator and Henry had come up with a color-coded scheme on the calendar in the kitchen, with filming schedules and cooking schedules and soccer practices.

He’d made varsity that fall.

Killian baked every home game.

“I’m not suggesting either one of you has brittle bones,” Emma laughed, smile still on her face and Killian shifted his arm away from Henry’s middle to wrap around his shoulders.

Killian arched on eyebrow. More instinct or something. Possibly making sure Henry made that noise he consistently made whenever he saw Killian and Emma kissing in the kitchen of a variety of restaurants and apartments and near his painstakingly accurate schedule. “That’s certainly what it sounded like,” Killian said. “What do you think, kid?” “Totally what it sounded like,” Henry agreed. His hair moved when he nodded, far too long and it was always too long and maybe that’s why they’d been in that hallway for so long.

If that was why they were in that hallway, Killian was actually going to break something.

Possibly the bench Emma was sitting on.

That looked almost brittle.

“It wasn’t,” Emma sighed. She slumped slightly, shoulders dropping and the expression on her face was somewhere between amused and exasperated.

“I played soccer, Mom.” “I know, I was there.” “And my foot is like...stronger now or something.” Emma tilted her head, smile shaking a bit and Killian felt like someone had throw ice in the pit of his stomach and let it slink up his spine and maybe they should have mentioned that in the hearings too. Because he’d totally lost his mind.

Henry had only just gotten off the crutches a few weeks before, a high ankle sprain that looked decidedly awful when it happened, the sound of his cry echoing in Killian’s head for days after. It had happened quickly, everything in soccer happened quickly, but he and Emma had been sitting in uncomfortable metal bleachers and suddenly Henry was on the turf and clutching his foot and the kid who’d been trying to defend him was waving for a trainer.

Killian had tried to get on the field.

Emma had tried to get on the field.

And they’d both paced in a different hallway that night, what felt like several thousand x-rays and discussions with a doctor who promised it’d be fine because he’s young and healthy and Henry had mostly been upset he’d miss the run at a city title.

That made some of the ice in Killian’s stomach melt, but he’d never felt quite that terrified and they’d been in the middle of this whole process and he’d been certain someone would see it as a reason he was unfit and Emma’s laugh was watery when he told her exactly that. And then promised it was the opposite.

“You tried to kill that trainer,” she’d said. “I think that qualifies as pretty dominant dad status.”

Henry asked for pecan pie the next day and hopped into the kitchen on one foot, perching on the counter despite Emma’s objections and he knew the recipe by heart.

“I really don’t think that’s how it works,” Killian said, tightening his arm around Henry’s shoulders. He made a teenage noise.

“Nah, nah, I think it is. Like...I’ve got ankle immunity now.” “Those words don’t even make sense together.” “I think you’re jealous of my ankle immunity.” “You didn’t break it, kid,” Emma reasoned, but that just earned her another teenage noise and a wave of both hands and Killian’s smile felt as natural as the breathing he was supposed to be doing.

Henry tugged on his tie, twisting his wrist and loosening the knot until the fabric was hanging around his neck instead. “Super ankle,” he said. “Back with a vengeance, more powerful than anything or ever before.”

They were not talking about ankles, super otherwise, anymore.

Emma stared at them for a moment, lips pursed and Killian swore she was trying to read both of their minds at the same time. He was breathing easier now.

That was weird.

Henry finally moved off his foot. He didn’t move away from his side, though.

That was less weird.

“Are we all collectively freaking out then?” Killian asked lightly, Henry sagging next to him. His head landed painfully on his shoulder, but Killian didn’t make any noise and Emma’s eyes were far too glossy to be entirely comfortable.

She nodded. “I have no idea how bones actually work. I mean Henry drinks milk right?”

“I’m standing right here,” Henry muttered. “What does milk have to do with anything?” “Calcium.” “Is an...element?” “Why is that a question?” “Because I honestly don’t know.”

Killian laughed, some of the tension disappearing from his shoulders and his fingers tapped out a quick rhythm on the fabric of Henry’s shirt. “Definitely an element,” he said. “Right?” “You asking for confirmation makes me think you don’t know either.” “Mary Margaret would probably know,” Emma shrugged.

“I think it’s an element,” Killian answered. “Picture the periodic table or something. Is that what it’s called?” Henry laughed. “You don’t know either, do you?” “I didn’t major in science.” “But like...cooking. Is science. Kind of.” “The kind of is the very important part.” “And he was way too busy being a history nerd,” Emma added. Killian blinked, not entirely prepared for this deep dive into humor as a means of coping with worrying, but that was probably for the best and maybe if the judge heard them laughing he’d hurry the fuck up.

Or something.

“That history knowledge has led to several well received high school papers,” Killian pointed out.

“I’m still standing here,” Henry muttered, but he sounded like he was trying to stop himself from laughing too loudly. “And don’t say it like that, Killian, it makes it sound like you wrote them.” “You wrote them.” “I know I did, but I just want the record to show that I did.” “Very official.” “I mean, play to your setting or something, right?” “I don’t think that’s the phrase you were looking for at all.” Henry deflated slightly, chewing on his lower lip in a move that was all Emma, but he ran his hand through his hair when he looked up and that was all Killian and, honestly, the judge should have just been watching this.

It was like family in flashing, neon letters that were also bolded and underlined and there were probably a few exclamation points.

“Let’s just agree that cooking is not a science,” Emma said. “At least not in a...science way.” Henry’s whole body twisted when he started to laugh, and Killian wasn’t sure he could support his weight while trying to keep his own legs upright, but an admirable effort was made and that felt like a step in the right direction. Emma rolled her eyes.

“Ok, that’s not what I meant at all,” she hissed. “You know what I meant.” “I really don’t, Mom.” “Swan, can you please explain to the jury how science is a science, but not in a real science way?” Killian asked, the words barely audible when his voice shook so much and Henry buried his face in his shoulder blade again.

Emma stuck her tongue out. “You guys are jerks. And collective history nerds as a unit.”

“Ok, but seriously,” Henry continued. “What is a not science way?” “You want to get grounded?” “No, but I really want to know what a not science way is. And to point out that Killian tried to make a law joke. So really we’re all incredibly lame.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Killian said. “That was funny. And timely.” “And you’re freaking out.” Killian swallowed back his laughter and slightly out of place retort because he’d been living in that apartment for years and he and Emma were married and this was a family that knew each other in a way he’d never believed was possible.

God, he wanted this so much.

“Not really,” he lied, but his eyes flickered to Emma and he could almost hear Henry’s disagreement.

“It’s going to be fine,” Emma whispered. “And it’s…” “Fine,” Killian echoed. “It’s going to be fine. No matter what happens.”

“And we can totally ask Mary Margaret about calcium. It’s got to be an element. Right? What else could it be?” “Why are we all looking for constant confirmation?” Henry asked. He hadn’t actually lifted his head off Killian’s shoulder yet, a heavy, but almost pleasant weight there and the walls had stopped moving at some point.

It probably had something to do with the whole breathing easier thing.

Maybe Killian should have taken his tie off too.

He wasn’t sure if the judge would like that.

God, there was a judge.

“That’s a loaded question, kid,” Emma muttered, scrunching her nose. Henry made a different noise, not quite teenage, but a bit more understanding and one of his knees bent when he tried to slump the same way she had. It was harder while he was still standing up.

“Yeah, I know. I just...I mean we did everything right, right?” “More confirmation,” Killian murmured. It worked a scoff out of Emma and half a smile and he couldn’t actually see Henry, but if asked to go back under oath he would have promised he felt his smile as well. Even through his shoulder.

“You know what I mean,” Henry grumbled.

“I do. And we did. Plus some.” “David absolutely did not have to wear dress whites,” Emma said. The smile on her face was as honest as it had been all day.

“That’s still not what they’re called, love.” “I know, but I really love seeing that little pinch in between your eyebrows when you get annoyed.” Killian laughed, resting his chin on the top of Henry’s head. Emma’s smile widened. “That’s diabolical. And maybe even a little rude.”

“You get very defensive about dress whites.” “It’s the principle of the thing.” “Please,” Emma laughed. “Tell me some more about the principle of it. I’d love to hear it.” Killian sighed, but there wasn’t much frustration to the sound and Henry laughed against his side again. “Is there principle to it?” Henry asked. “Isn’t it just...the rules of the army or something?” Emma threw her whole head back when she laughed, an arm wrapped tightly around her waist so she didn’t slide off the bench and Killian resisted the urge to circle the conversation back around to brittle bones. That felt redundant. And he was far too busy being charmed by his own wife and family and, like, his entire life in general.

He’d lost track of how long they’d been in that hallway.

“Oh now you’ve done it,” Emma said. She glanced at Killian, fingers toying with the ring on her left hand and that felt a little like cheating, but it had been a very involved conversation with far too many metaphors and he kind of wanted to keep flirting. “At least he didn’t say Coast Guard.” “Aw, c’mon, I wouldn’t do that,” Henry shouted. “That’s just...disrespectful.” Emma nodded, a look of complete disbelief on her face and something that felt a little like the expression she made when Henry promised there’d be parents at several different weekend parties. “Sure it is, kid.” “It is! Killian, I need you to back me up on this.” “On how much better and more efficient the Navy is than the Coast Guard?” Killian asked.

“Yes, exactly that. And to ignore my Army joke.” “Ah, it was a joke then?” “A better one than Mom’s, honestly.” “Grounded,” Emma yelled, throwing her arm into the open space in front of her like pointing made it more official.

“The joke didn’t even make sense,” Killian added.

Henry blinked. He didn’t seem all that worried about being grounded. Maybe that was why the judge was taking so long. “Wait, why? Whose? Mine? Or Mom’s?” “Either or.” “Why not?” Emma asked.

“It’s winter.” “And?” “And,” Killian repeated. “You wear dress whites in the summer, Swan. Because they’re lighter and...summery.” Henry made a noise, something that sounded like a laugh and a snort and Emma’s nose was probably going to stay scrunched for the remainder of their hallway encampment. “We are all lacking in some pretty basic knowledge, aren’t we? Is summery even a word?”

“You know what I meant. So, really, everyone was wrong. Dress blues in the winter, which is exactly what David would have worn if he wore an actual uniform to his testimony.” “Do we not know what he wore?” “I didn’t think to ask, honestly.” “Yeah, that’s fair.” “Generous of you,” Killian mumbled, but Henry laughed again and he kept tugging on his hair and that had to mean something.

Maybe they’d make pecan pie later.

They had a party to go to later – some kind of no matter what happens extravaganza that Mary Margaret and Ariel had come up with when they first got the letter about this and the day and one of them had cried or maybe both of them had cried and that might have been the last time Killian had taken a deep breath.

“Ah, whatever,” Emma mumbled. “I’m still not hearing anything about the principle of dress whites and how you’re the only one who gets ‘em.” “I think it had something to do with that previously discussed history degree actually and several rather large ceremonies and ships.”

“Mmmhm.”

He kept drifting back to oaths and Bibles and right hands lifted in the air, but Killian figured that had something to do with the ridiculous amount of time they’d spent in that courthouse and the teenager plastered to his side and how much they all wanted in some great big overwhelming way and he swore Emma’s eyes got greener when they met his.

He smirked.

“I think you’ve got quite a few opinions on dress whites, love,” Killian muttered. He pressed the tip of his tongue onto the edge of his mouth, appreciating the slight rush of color in his wife’s cheeks and that was a very appealing sentence.

“I never said that.” “It was implied.” “That’s not how this place works,” Emma objected, waving her hand again like the far too ornate ceiling above them proved her point. "Gross,” Henry groaned, dragging out the word until it sounded like testimony in some kind of federal case. They were in the wrong courthouse for that. “This is super gross.” “Ah, but this is what you signed up for, my boy.” The words were out of Killian’s mouth before he’d considered them entirely – vaguely possessive and even more honest and he hadn’t been breathing all that consistently, but his tie suddenly felt even tighter and he was only a little concerned about the oxygen levels in that hallway. His eyes practically flew to Emma, her mouth open slightly and it didn’t appear she was breathing much either, but she blinked and there were tears on her cheeks and a wobble to her lower lip that was only kind of disconcerting because it ensured Killian started thinking about her lower lip.

Killian tried to swallow, to get rid of the wad of whatever that had taken up residence in the back of his throat, but everything felt a little impossible and he desperately needed to blink.

The room felt like it was starting to spin.

That might have been the Earth – flying off its axis with less gravity involved or something else that was far too scientific for a family of TV personalities with absolutely no knowledge of the periodic table of elements.

And the door opening down the hallway sounded impossibly loud.

“Swan-Jones?” a voice called, far too confident and far too even and Killian didn’t look away from Emma, certain the moment he did he’d realize every single inch of him was actually on fire. That was probably just his lungs.

Oxygen was important.

Science.

He’d started reciting recipes in his head at some point.

He was going to bake pecan pie and then eat the entire, goddamn thing on his own.

The voice was also wearing heels and a cautious smile when she moved into the hallway, expression unreadable when she took in the scene in front of her, which, really, was fair because Henry’s tie was still hanging around his neck and Killian’s face was probably blue from a lack of air and Emma was still wearing his suit jacket, one of her feet halfway out of her shoe.

They’d done everything right.

David definitely hadn’t worn dress blues to his testimony.

But Robin had promised it went great and Mary Margaret probably burst into song during hers and they had written statements and they were famous. And that was kind of an unfair reason for any of this to work when plenty of not-famous people deserved to get their adoptions recognized by the state of New York as well, but Killian was almost willing to be a selfish asshole if it meant he got to call Henry his in a way that didn’t seem totally strange.

“Swan-Jones,” the woman repeated, not a question that time and Killian hoped he nodded. He couldn’t actually feel his head move though, so maybe he hadn’t. Emma definitely hadn’t.

“Yeah,” Henry said quickly, when it was clear that neither of the adults in this situation were going to do anything. “That’s us.” The woman smiled, encouraging and hopeful and Emma’s eyes widened. “We’re ready for you.”

“Cool, thanks.”

He started walking as soon as the heels did, only stopping when he realized Killian and Emma were still frozen and his suit jacket was on the ground. His eyebrow did something absurd. Killian had more or less resigned to simply dying of oxygen deprivation in the hallway.

“So, you guys going to move or, like, what’s your deal?” Henry asked, tugging on the hair behind his ear and Emma let out a strangled noise. Her hand found Killian’s as soon as she stood up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma stammered. “Of course we are.” “Should we all put our hands in or something? Go team?” “We’re not doing that,” Killian said.

“Good, because that would have been totally lame.” Killian nodded, next to Henry in a few quick steps and Emma’s hand tightened or his hand tightened, but it didn’t matter because they all kind of moved as one unit when they walked towards the room at the far end of the hall and that felt a bit like a sign.

It all happened fairly quickly.

He didn’t remember it happening that quickly when he was a kid, but he’d been a kid and Killian assumed the justice system had evolved in the last few decades, but he refused to linger on any of those thoughts when he was so goddamn happy.

Emma cried.

Henry might have cried. Killian absolutely cried, blinking quickly and breathing almost evenly, holding onto the very solid teenage body that collided with his front when a judge he couldn't remember the name of told them congratulations or good luck or something. It all sounded a bit like white noise, a buzzing in the back of his consciousness that wasn’t nearly as important as the feeling of his heart – possibly expanding or bursting through his chest.

Henry’s arms wrapped all the way his middle, face pressed into Killian’s chest and he wouldn’t have minded if the kid stepped on both his shoes.

His kid.

“I knew it’d work,” Henry said, barely loud enough for Killian to hear, but he did and there was probably something to that. Some kind of emotional reason or adrenaline and he really needed to stop thinking about science he didn’t understand.

Killian held on tighter, like he was trying to preserve the moment or push it into every single dark and dismal part of his brain that still inexplicably existed, that was still worried this whole thing was some kind of long con. He squeezed his eyes closed, letting his cheek rest on Henry’s head and there was hair everywhere, muttered voices in the background that were probably saying something important, but neither one of them let go.

That was way more important.

Emma nearly knocked her chair over when she moved, ignoring a different official voice, and it took a few moments, but Killian moved his arm and kissed the top of her hair and it sounded like someone took a picture.

“Figured it was a good moment,” the voice from the hallway explained, shrugging slightly with half a smile on her face.

Killian’s laugh felt like it shook its way out of him, blinking even more. “Yeah,” he nodded. “It absolutely was.” They did, eventually, sign more paperwork and listened to more voice and Killian briefly wondered if it was safe for all of their necks to move that much, but they just kept nodding and smiling and wiping away tears and neither he nor Emma could seem to move more than a few feet away from Henry.

He made the picture his lock screen in the cab uptown.

Henry nearly climbed over Killian when they stopped in front of The Jolly, sprinting into the restaurant with cries of I’m starving on his lips, and it wasn’t quite that cold out yet, but it looked like it might snow later and Emma’s breath caught when he wrapped his arm around her waist.

She slammed into him.

“Your bones, Swan,” Killian mumbled, but he hadn’t stopped smiling in hours or days and probably wouldn’t for the rest of his life and there were still tears in her eyes.

“You were the one who started yanking on things.”

“There was no yanking.” “No?” “No. There was...just….” She lifted her eyebrows when he trailed off, mouth twisting as she tried to do the mind reading thing again and her hands were warm when they rested on his chest. He’d never actually put his suit jacket back on, the fabric hanging off Emma’s shoulders with her own coat in her hand. He hoped she couldn’t feel whatever his heart was doing.

That was a losing battle though.

He was more than prepared to admit defeat.

“You’re usually far more articulate, Lieutenant,” Emma muttered, tilting her head up so her hair fell down her back and he wished his laugh wasn’t so unsteady.

“I’m going to go ahead and blame it on several different and rather large emotions.” “Good ones?” He leaned back at the tone of her voice, still a little cautious and a lot concerned and Emma bit her lip when she stared at the minimal amount of space between them. “Swan,” Killian started, tucking his thumb under her chin. “Emma, love, c’mon, look at me.” It took a moment, but she finally lifted her gaze and not kissing seemed absurd and a little irresponsible. He wasn’t irresponsible.

He was someone’s dad.

Officially.

Killian had to bend his knees to reach her, arm falling back to her waist to tug her against him like occupying the same few inches of space would make this even more official than it already was and one of her feet did land on his.

They started laughing – joyful and easy, the air around them mingling together because neither one of them had been willing to actually pull away and Emma’s fingers brushed through the back of Killian’s hair. She peppered his face with kisses, quick brushes of her lips across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose and just under his eyes and it wasn’t like being branded, but it felt a little bit like being chosen and that was ridiculous.

They were married.

They were a family.

There were rings and partnerships and two restaurants that were thriving, but this felt like all of that and then some – a step in a direction Killian had always been sure he’d never take, a family and a home and everything all together with really delicious pecan pie.

“First names and dramatic sidewalk makeouts,” Emma mumbled. “Pulling out all the stops, huh?” “If it’ll prove my point, I’m willing to circle back around to the sidewalk makeouts.” “Oh, that was smooth.” “That was the goal.”

“I’d say it definitely worked, but that might have been partially the whole adoption thing too and I just--” “--I am, Swan,” Killian promised, appreciating her slightly scandalized look when he interrupted her. He kissed her before she answered.

“That is really, really unfair. I’ve been trying to read your mind all day and then you go and pull that? Super lame.” “Well, you were the one throwing out nerd-based insults, love.”

She laughed, something that was treading dangerously close to a giggle and more feeling and other emotions, the warmth of it all seeping through his shirt and possibly into his soul and his fingers started tracing patterns on his back. “That was flirting,” Emma muttered, poking her finger into his side before twisting it through a belt loop.

“Was it?” Emma swatted at his shoulder, scoffing when he caught her around the wrist and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “God, you are on a roll here.” “Why did that sound like an accusation?” “It wasn’t. It was just…” “You’re usually far more articulate, Swan,” he grinned, ducking his head to drag his lips along the side of her jaw and it was a miracle no one had come looking for them yet. Henry had probably told them not to.

“I mean, that’s an enormous lie, but apparently we’re way worse at flirting than I thought so who knows what’s happening.” Killian chuckled, more kisses and more laughter and several passersby on the sidewalk had been vocally displeased by their loitering in front of their own restaurant.

Their restaurant.

Their kid.

Theirs.

“You going to finish your thought, Swan, or do you actually want me to guess?” “This flirting sucks.” “I’m really not opposed to scandalizing more tourists or the peanut gallery that’s probably going to press their faces up to the glass sooner rather than later.” “Nah,” Emma objected. “There’s food and Henry doesn’t want to see his…” She bit her lip, drifting off again, but he’d signed all the papers and she’d signed all the papers and they were a collective pronoun in a way that Mary Margaret probably taught all her classes.

Maybe they were also as lame as advertised.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Emma said quickly, rushing over the words like that would make them easier to say and Killian tried to nod encouragingly. “One way or another. It wouldn't have...Henry wouldn't have cared, he still would have thought you made the Sun come up every morning.” “That’s only because I help consistently feed him.” “No, it’s not.” It wasn’t. Killian knew it, as much as some misplaced sense of modesty didn’t want him to. Because he kind of thought Henry made the Sun come up every morning too and he’d never actually objected to the endearment in the hallway and he couldn’t understand how he still wanted more.

Theirs might have become his new favorite word.

“It’s not,” Emma repeated softly, tugging on his belt loop. “God, I can’t keep saying the same things over again, but it wouldn’t have mattered and I know it’s, shit, it’s not a technicality. It’s not. It’s a lot and more than that, something bigger and important and everything. It’s…” She sighed, pressing her lips together and Killian waited, the sound of his heartbeat loud in his ears. “I wanted this,” Emma whispered. “As much as I’ve ever wanted anything and Henry did too and I just…” She growled, actually growled, throwing her head back and Killian’s laugh wasn’t really that, but his body didn’t know what noise to make when it also knew it probably shouldn’t be kissing her in time of emotional turmoil.

He really wanted to kiss her again.

“It’s not a technicality,” Killian agreed, voice clipped and he hoped his heart didn’t bruise his ribs. “And I know nothing would have changed if that judge was actually an asshole.” That got a laugh out of Emma, head resting on his chest and arms around his middle. The same way Henry’s had been. “But I wanted the label, Swan,” he continued. “I wanted the name and the paperwork and the legal responsibility. I love you, and I love Henry and I...I wanted to be his dad. Officially.” “Good word.” “I like it.” “It’s really not because of the food.” “I know it’s not.” Emma sniffled, nodding half to herself and half to him and it took several pointed coughs from the open doorway for either one of them to notice. “You guys going to come in or what?” Robin called. “Because there’s honestly a ton of food and it’s freezing out here.” “Those are the only reasons we have to come in there?” Killian asked.

“Also because we’re throwing you guys a party. Congrats, it’s a boy!” Killian laughed, Emma’s body shaking against his and Robin made a contradictory noise when they didn’t immediately move. But he really couldn’t blame the day’s emotions for kissing his own wife and Killian glared when he heard several other calls for their immediate arrival inside.

“How much food is a lot of food?”

“You worried about your inventory, Killian?” He shrugged. “I mean...a little. And also Eric’s blood pressure if he had to make all that food.” “Still in Brooklyn.” “Who made the food?” Robin widened his eyes meaningfully, Emma clicking her tongue in something that sounded like frustration. Killian’s lungs were never going to recover. “When?” he asked. “How?” “How?” Emma asked. “Did you just ask me how I made food?” “None of that was on the color-coded schedule.” “That’s because it was kind of a surprise, Lieutenant. That’s usually how that works.” “Also,” Robin added, leaning around the doorway. “The rest of us do have a general idea of how to feed ourselves. Capable of helping or whatever.” “At least of reheating,” Emma mumbled.

“And you were way too busy filming those last few IC episodes to even notice. Plus you were worried this was going to get messed up.” “I wasn’t,” Killian argued, but the words were pointless in the face of two very disbelieving expressions.

Robin hummed. Killian glared again. “Sure you weren’t. Anyway, this is a good thing and was always going to work because as promised I gave a fantastic character witness. So if you guys could come inside and celebrate, Will came up with a drink that I’m sure Killian will hate and Gina wants to talk about the IC filming next week.” “She can’t wait two seconds? I just adopted Henry.” “She asked you about IC in the same sentence as telling you that she’d adopted Roland.” “Ah, yeah, that’s true.” “Exactly. Also it’s seriously freezing out and I don’t know enough about medicine to save either one of you from frostbite.”

“Oh, well, that’s a totally fair reason,” Emma said, pressing up on her toes to kiss Killian quick and someone in the restaurant gagged when he chased after her. “Let’s go, Lieutenant. I really made a ton of food. Maybe if we’re eating Regina won’t ask me about filming for IC.”

The entire dining room exploded when they walked in – cheers and shouts and Roland standing on the bar despite both Regina and Will trying to get him down and Killian had some fairly strong suspicions that the handwritten sign hanging above the hallway in the back had been done by him. And Leo Nolan. And possibly Sebastian. Neither of whom, it appeared, quite understood how to color in the lines yet.

“If you guys don’t immediately compliment me on my fantastic drink concoction, I’m absolutely refusing to be a good godfather to Henry,” Will announced, brandishing a bottle of incredibly expensive champagne.

“I need you to backtrack on that immediately,” David muttered. “Also pour the champagne before Killian comes behind the bar and strangles you.” “I’m not going to strangle him,” Killian promised, but that only earned him several different objections and it was difficult to hold onto Emma when Ariel flew at him. The kid in her arms clung to his side, gripping at his collar and Killian was only a little worried about the state of the buttons on his shirt. “C’mere, Seb,” he muttered, pulling the toddler away from the woman who wasn’t really just his hostess. She’d probably made some of the food. “Before you’re an unwilling casualty to your mom’s celebration.” “That’s incredibly rude,” Ariel said. “Also, like, hug me back.”

Killian laughed, but did as instructed. He didn’t let go of Emma, though, one arm around her and kind of around Ariel and Seb didn’t appreciate any of it, kicking several adults in the process. Killian groaned when a pair of knees slammed into his, knocking the air out of him and there were tears in Ariel's eyes and tears in several other pairs of eyes and, possibly, his own because Killian wasn’t sure if he’d ever actually stopped crying yet.

“Is congratulations the right sentiment?” Ariel asked. “It feels weird to say that.” “Why is that weird?” She tilted her, staring at him with something that felt like a jumble of pride and exasperation and joy because she’d been there since the start and knew and wanted, maybe, as much as Killian did, if only so he’d be as happy as she was.

Ariel was far too nice.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I just...that kid thinks the world of you and a few sheets of paper weren’t going to change anything, but I’m glad they did.” The whatever was back in his throat, tongue darting between his lips and tongue feeling far too big for his mouth.

The restaurant seemed to freeze.

“Told you,” Emma whispered.

Ariel beamed. And tried to wipe the tears off her face. “He was stupid in love you with from like...the first time he saw you, you know that?” she asked, the flush in Emma’s cheeks only slightly distracting. “And totally terrified to do anything about it. You want to know why?” “Why?” “Ari,” Killian muttered, but she was on a roll and in story mode.

“He was worried about Henry.” Emma jerked back, eyebrows pulled low and Killian gritted his teeth. But that might have been because of the kid in his arms. He had very active feet. “She’s being vague on purpose, Swan.” “I’m not,” Ariel argued sharply. “Really, Emma. I’m not. I...damn, this was supposed to be nicer.” “We agreed on nice,” Robin promised, sitting on top of the goddamn bar with an arm around Roland’s legs. “There was a vote.” “What?”

Ruby nodded, Henry between her and Mary Margaret with tears on both their faces. Henry was holding a plate. “There will be a list of speeches,” Ruby said. “But Ariel got to go first because, as she said in her campaign, she was here for the start. M’s and I get to go after we toast because we claim seeing Emma’s start. She was totally in love with you too. From the get.” “That’s pretty true,” Henry added.

“Oh, my God,” Emma sighed, head lolling onto Killian’s shoulder. It wasn’t an objection.

Mary Margaret looked like she’d just seen seventy-six rainbows. “She made French toast before Cutthroat Kitchen.” Killian’s internal organs had dealt with quite a lot that afternoon – fairly certain several of them were still sitting on the floor of the New York Family Court – but nothing had prepared him for that, which, really was kind of absurd. Ariel was tapping her foot.

So was Regina.

She definitely wanted to ask about Iron Chef.

“Anyway,” Ariel said pointedly, nodding at Will when he started passing out champagne flutes. “Killian was totally in love with Emma and Emma was totally in love with Killian, but he was worried that he’d get too involved and he’s...is it super embarrassing if I talk about how much you’ve always wanted some picket-white fence family?” “I mean, you just did it, A,” Will reasoned.

“You’re an incredible orator, Ari,” Killian sighed. He couldn’t actually get angry. That was nice.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, whatever, it’s true. Killian wanted it and didn’t want to get his hopes up, but then Emma showed up here after filming Cutthroat Kitchen and the rest is history.” “Is this your speech?” Robin asked. “A, this is not great.” “God, will you guys give me two seconds, please?”

“You’re losing your crowd,” David muttered, half his drink gone already. He had a phone in his hand, the screen pointed up and a noise that sounded a bit like a crying Ruth Nolan coming from the speakers. “And we’d really like to eat.” “No one was stopping you from eating!” “Can we eat?” Roland asked. He almost jumped off the bar, several adults lunging towards him and Regina actually gasping.

Ariel tried to kick Killian's ankles when he moved, but Emma went with him and Roland didn’t actually jump off the bar, so that was another victory. He really was on a roll. “Hold on a second mate, ok?” Killian asked. “Ari’s got to keep giving a horrible speech.” “Seriously, Killian!” He flashed a grin over his shoulder, Seb moving to sit there and all the fight went out of Ariel. “Seriously, Ari.” “God, you’re heavy handed. Alright, alright, alright. If everyone is done interrupting then, the gist of it is that Killian loves Emma and Emma loves Killian and they both love Henry a lot and we’re all really excited about that and you guys all deserve several picket fences and we made Gina promise she wouldn’t ask about filming for, like, ten seconds at least because she’s going to ask Emma again.”

It had been going on for years – Regina asking Emma to guest on Iron Chef and Emma regularly turning it down and it never really fit in the color-coded schedule and she had her own show and a cookbook that said Emma Swan-Jones on it and Killian couldn’t think about that too much or he was sure his brain would short circuit.

Killian groaned. “We just got here, Gina. Let us eat first.” “I haven’t said anything yet,” she snapped, the heel tap getting louder by the second. “But we do have an opening in a couple weeks when you film because someone cancelled or their restaurant closed or something and--” “--I’ll do it,” Emma said suddenly, and all these changes to the Earth’s oxygen levels could not have been good for the planet.

“Wait, what?” Killian balked.

Ruth Nolan screamed very loudly from Storybrooke, Maine.

It was almost difficult to hear, however, when David dropped his phone.

“Ah, babe, I win,” Will shouted, grabbing another bottle of champagne that they probably should have been selling to customers instead of drinking themselves. Killian’s brain couldn’t process that though, and Belle blushed.

“Let the record show that this was not a nefarious bet,” she said. “It was just...Will thought it was only a matter of time before Gina wore Emma down. His words.” “Aw, c’mon.” “You just announced our bet to the whole restaurant! And it wasn’t really even a bet.” “No?” Ruby asked, laughter clinging to the words. Killian still hadn’t moved. It was way too much for one day. “Please, tell us what it was exactly.” “An agreement,” Belle said.

“For what?” “Gina’s super intimidating,” Will reasoned. “Look at her. Look at that toe tap. Plus, Emma really likes winning too and neither she nor Cap can ever walk away from competition. You should have included that in your speech, A.”

“Oh, shut up, Scarlet,” Ariel muttered. “Make me more to drink.” “And what do you get since you won the agreement?” Mary Margaret asked. Will must have answered, but Killian barely heard them, eyes trained on Emma and the small smile on her face, the way her tongue darted between her lips and her shoulder shifted when she inhaled.

Ruth might have still be screaming.

“Swan,” Killian breathed, and something that sounded exactly like a boulder landed on top of the bar. He hoped it wasn’t Roland.

They both snapped their heads to the noise, Henry already running towards them, food forgotten when he realized what was going on and he was already talking a mile a minute when he landed in front of them.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Henry yelled, jumping up and down and Killian was still holding Sebastian. “Mom, are you serious?” Emma shrugged, eyes flitting towards Killian and his heart promptly exploded. It felt that way. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “Could be fun,” she said. “Fun,” Killian said, testing the word and the feeling and Henry was still jumping. David kept trying to get Ruth to calm down. It wasn’t working.

“Could be.” “You keep using the same words, Swan.” “That’s how the legal system is supposed to work, isn’t it? Specific. And science too. All very finite and definite and...official.” “Oh, my God,” Henry grumbled. “This is so gross. You guys are so gross. Were you kissing on the sidewalk? Is that why it took forever to come inside?” “Absolutely,” Killian grinned, tugging him against his side and Henry didn’t argue that.

“Ugh.” “So, like, none of us are articulate in this family, huh?” Emma asked, smile wide as she said the words and Killian’s previously destroyed heart knit itself back together, returned to its proper place in his chest and beat out a staccato rhythm that he could probably conduct science experiments to.

They’d harped on that metaphor for too long.

“Nah,” Henry said, an agreement in the opposite and words apparently had no meaning anymore. “Not really. It’s not bad though.” Emma kissed the top of his hair, a hand resting on Killian’s chest when she leaned forward. “No, it’s not bad at all.” “You really want to cook in Kitchen Stadium, Swan?” Killian asked.

“I mean, maybe not if you’re going to refer to it as Kitchen Stadium.” “That’s what it’s called!” “That’s what Ruth calls it,” Henry mumbled. “You calling it that sounds like you’re trying to impress Mom.” “Should I not be doing that anymore?” “Not unless you want an excessive amount of teenage type groaning for the rest of time.” Killian laughed, tightening his hold and letting his chin rest on Henry’s head again. “Yeah, that sounds awful. You help your mom cook before?”

“Maybe.” “You’re an even worse liar than she is, my boy.” He’d done it on purpose that time. And everyone in that restaurant absolutely knew it. Mary Margaret aw’ed in tandem with Ruth.

“I’m going to make fun of her for that later,” Emma whispered. “But this is...God, you guys keep making me cry, you know that?” “Sorry, Mom.” “Sorry, Swan.” “Man,” she muttered, leaning back to stare at both of them. “That’s going to be problematic. Teaming up against me with cute.” “Swan,” Killian sighed, Henry mumbling several choice words under his breath.

“No one’s teaming up against anyone, Mom,” he said. His voice didn’t shake when he spoke. Killian blinked. Several times. “It’s not...you really want to cook on Iron Chef?”

Emma didn’t answer immediately, and Killian ignored the burning in his lungs, eyes focused on his wife and his kid and his family. She nodded. “I think it’d be fun, don’t you think? Force your parents to battle in Kitchen Stadium. A Swan-Jones family extravaganza.”

“We’ll probably use that tagline,” Regina muttered.

“It’s good, right?”

“Better than.” Killian exhaled.

“I told you that was what it’s called,” Killian said triumphantly, moving to rest his chin on Henry’s head and the laughter in the restaurant was catching, more shutter clicks and sniffles and they’d probably frame that goddamn sign.

“Don’t call it that again,” Henry chuckled. “Does this mean I can help judge? Gina, can I judge?” Regina shook her head. “Probably not. But we can absolutely get you on set. Make them give you some food when they’re not too busy flirting on camera.” “We don’t flirt on camera,” Killian said, but that was the worst lie he’d told in several years and he’d spent part of the day under oath, so it felt even more wrong.

“We flirt a lot on camera,” Emma corrected. Henry groaned again. “Kid, you were very excited about this two seconds ago.”

They might not have been talking about Iron Chef anymore.

Emma’s fingers wrapped around Killian’s left wrist. Henry shrugged. “Yeah, I know,” he grinned. “And I don’t...I mean it’s good when your parents are super, obnoxiously in love, right?” “Confirmation, again?” “Nah, I don’t really need it.” “Good,” Killian said, another hug and more meaning behind the movement and neither one of them said anything when Henry pulled away, leaving a slightly damp mark on his shoulder. “What’d you make? I want to try that first.” Henry beamed. Emma kissed Killian’s cheek. And they ate far too much food, walking back to the apartment far later than they expected with Henry in the middle as both of his parents supported most of his weight.

It took a few moments to get Henry out of his jacket, eyelids fluttering and shoes landing in a heap that Killian didn’t say anything about, but then he mumbled love you guys and Emma breathed out softly and nothing else had ever really mattered except that.

“Love you too,” Killian said.

He woke up the next morning to Iron Chef – mom and dad on the color coded calendar.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #shoves family feelings at you #here #have some of these

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