#and i refused to even remotely possibly slightly kill the joke by making her wonder in advance

[comfymoth]

the aforementioned cake incident

[demonictales]

May I ask for headcanons with Wei ying, Jiang Cheng and Nie huiashang (if I spelled that right). Where reader was their one of their best friend and a Wen, but soon disappeared when the Wen clan started to take over the other sects. Boys then finding their friend, disabled from their golden core and imprisoned in a remote place where no one could have found them, because they rebelled against the clan leader. Could be more angsty if they lost their hearing or sight, because they were tortured.

oh, i’m excited how this one will turn out. here we go! my heart while writing this went →↑→↑←↑↓↑→↑←↓ also I know you said imprisioned but i got kinda carried away writing this. I'm so sorry okijd

TW: TORTURE, BLINDNESS

GUSU LAN CLAN LECTURES

First of all you were Wen Chao's cousin, unfortunately. However, you pretty much did as you wanted to because who could really control you, so of course you went along to the Lan Clan's lectures alongside Wen Qing and Wen Ning.

Of course you arrived in old fashioned Wen manner and interrupted the ceremony already breaking rules at the entrance. When no one else but Wei Wuxian spoke up. It did indeed amuse you the way he spoke up agains Wen Chao so you carefully watched him.

Excused for the day all three of you eventually went their own way. You had no idea what Wen Qing was up to or Wen Ning, so you eventually walked around the clan, exploring your new home for the few lectures to come. Eventually, in the back hill you bumped into Wei Wuxian who thought Wen Ning to use bow and arrow until that nearly backfired when Wen Qing's voice rang through the air.

"Let's say we are even now that you nearly killed Lady Wen. ---" You were joking obviously, but refering to the earlier incident.

He wasn't quite sure how to deal with you yet but it seemed you made quite the point. Eventually you walked along with him, leaving Wen Ning and Qing to their own.

Meeting Jiang Cheng once more you, indeed did apologize for interrupting his greetings earlier that day. You were quite different than most in the Wen Clan, you did apologize and show manners, though you weren't completely innocent.

As much as you did enjoy art and classics, you were also a little troublemaker, It was a healthy combination of mischief and manners that allowed you to walk the grey zone. So of course you soon bonded with Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng and Nie Huiasang.

You became great friends soon. You learned about Wei Wuxian's mischief, enjoyed his stories of bickering with Lan Zhan, came to know Nie Huiasang's grand taste and love for art and other not so lady like things, as well as his dislike for fighting and of course Jiang Cheng, he was rather complicated but you still enjoyed his presence. You could never quite tell what was on his mind but you knew for sure he deeply cared for his family. He was in fact, someone who seemed to long for his own little happy ending.

Meeting up in secret for a drinking which was strictly forbidden, you had lots of fun until the next morning when you were called for punishment. Even though you were a Wen, you could simply walk away but decided to stay and take the 50 hits. You had made friends for a lifetime during the lectures.

WEN CLAN LECTURES

You'd lie if you say you weren't excited to see your friends again, however, it weren't the best circumstances. You greatly disliked the way it had processed to far yet there they stood, all clans: Nie Clan, Jin Clan, Jiang Clang and eventually Hanguang Jun.

This wasn't much of a lecture, more of Wen Chao showing of his power due to the enormous power the Quishan Wen Clan had gathered. You weren't sure if you were embarrassed or disgusted by your cousin but either way, knowing Wei Wuxian's character you soon had something to laugh. And you were right.

Wen Chao made him recite the Wen Clan rules which ironicially, he didn't even know himself so you nearly busted a lung and earned an angry side eye from your cousin when Wei Wuxian recited the Lan Clan rules.

Of course this would not go without punishment, not for you not for Wei Wuxian and co.

Eventually you helped with the dung being spread, being trapped between Jin Zixuan, Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan. Fun times. Once more, you apologizes for his behaviour knowing your words could do nothing. The only thing this gave you was the title of Gentle Wen. An embarrassment to your family but in the cultivation world between your friends quite the praise.

You tried getting their swords back but with no luck. You only ended up being grounded in your own room with guards outside.

You weren't able to help your friends out and it did annoy you. It seemed as if you tried harder the more complicated it would get for you to get out of here. It did drive you insane.

When every visitor was suppossed to hunt the monster that roamed through the mountain you once again were by their side, refusing to speak nor act according to your cousin's order.

Which led to quite the argument between you, who stood on your friends side, and Wen Chao and his woman, who for the love of cultivation, wondered where she came from

Either way, you stood between him and Wang Lingjiao when she had ordered to use Mianmian as a sacrifice. You at this point who would believe you, matter of fact, you knew that he was just being abusive. Safe to say it did piss your cousin off and ended up in a fight, eventually were Wei Wuxian would get hurt.

Just like the rest, you got stuck in the cave alongside the rest of the cultivators. Proofing your loyalty to your friends once more. Not so much to the other clans.

This time you helped out Huaisang the most. The poor guy was frightened to death. He was such a soft boy. You felt bad about it and apologzied multiple times while staying by his side, doing your best to help him through the situation. At this point, if you were no traitor to the Wen Clan what else could you possibly be?

You followed Jiang Cheng's introductions to leave the cave through the water, Nie Huaisang by your side.

After all you had made it out word spread proufoundly about you and the Wen Clan. Some said you were a spy, working for the Wen Clan and earning sympathy, others said you were honest about your intentions, later was some encouring words by Nie Huaisang. You truly did appreciate his words.

The moment you stepped foot into Qishan, you were confined to you room until they needed you. They made use of your connections to Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang whenever they needed to. Tricky but smart.

WEN CHAOS HAVOC + SUNHOT CAMPAIGN

It was only when you dumb cousin started to wreak havoc among the clans that you started to see the situation clearly and did not want to have anything to do with it. After cloud recesse had been burned to nearly ashes you spoke up, you were against it. Precious memories were made there and now they had became ashes, quite literally.

If you had known about all the scheming you'd have told Lan Xichen right away, made sure nothing would happen to the Gusu Lan Clan. But being confined barely gave you any choices until one day you fought your way out, meeting your uncle, confronting him about it.

You knew that the Wen Clan was better than that, but the yin iron had taken up to much of his sanity, he instructed Wen Chao to take care of you.

Of course it pained you to see all the chaos and blood being she'd of cour once former friends familie's. There did not a day go by where you begged him to stop. You even tried going against him, but failed miserably.

Wang Lingjiao enjoyed her given power, using it to destroy every piece of hope you still had. Even bringing you along to Lotus Pier to watch the massacre of your closest friends parents.

Daily torture was on your agenda. Being wipped, being burned, being starved or simply kicked and punched by her minions. But you were to prideful to give in just so easily, especially when you head news of Jiang Cheng being captured.

Again, you tried your best to stop him but Wen Chao had enough of your antic and ordered Wen Zuhliu to end it but his woman had a better idea. Get rid of her golden core and blind her. It was her revenge for you spitting the hot soup right into her face, eventually burning her slightly. It was worth it.

You were left in pain, after you felt the power leave your body, the spiritual power who kept healing you in a very slow pace if you needed it but eventually had lost it. The worst was losing your sight, the light of day, not knowing if it was day or night, not being able to navigate on your own.

Treason, that was the reason. You could have had so much more if it wasn't for your weak heart. The words were spoken as hot iron was pushed into your eyes. Your screams were hunting the people who were present. Yet you had lost all of hope and strength in one night, being dumped somewhere on a mountain with nothing but the purpose to die.

After the sunshot campaign people had wondered what happened to you as you were nowhere to be found, yet they all agreed to not search and leave things as they were, the Qishan Wen Clan was extinguished.

PASSING YEARS

Years had passed and you had managed to get yourself back on your feet, even if it wasn't as safe anymore. You learned to live with your blindness.

Deep in the forest in an abandoned little hut. It was perfect for you. You secluded yourself from the world, living in peace. You remembered some tricks your old friend Wei Wuxian had once taught you, and even though your golden core was gone, little tricks like these did do. Obviously you had to renew them every now and then but it was no bother at all.

What you did not know was that the mountain, or rather the forest you lived in belonged to a clan, and possible night hunt had given up your days of silence and years being secluded.

Only when you heard footsteps that did not belong to anything on your small land, you ended up hiding in your small hut, a knife held firmly in your hands.

The voices you could make out seemed familiar but you stayed quiet, perhaps they'd leave.

Of course they did not leave and soon it seemed, three people were standing in your small front yard where chicken where quietly eating and living.

They surely were surprised that someone had managed to live on the mountain of the Jin Clan largest property. That did put you quite in panic. You knew they were your death sentence if they would find you, so you tried to sneak away, but of course Wei Wuxian was one step ahead of you.

" Where do you think you're going ?"

" Wei Wuxian? "

Your voice was hesitant yet filled with surprise but you could definitely make out his voice between a hundred people. A smile almost creeped upon your lips, soley depending on your hearing.

Your attire was still very much simple. A very out worn red hanfu, the logos of the Wen Clan faded but still slightly visible. It was Nie Huaisang that pointed this out. Of course he would notice such details, so he still was alive and breathing. You were deligthed to know this.

However, it was Jiang Cheng who put 1 and 1 together.

" Lady Y/N ? ---"

Silence filled by gasp of Nie Huaisang, as you nodded quietly.

"Guilty."

You were not sure how to feel, happy that you finally met the people you once called friends or scared knowing it could now mean your death.

"I'm glad to hear you are all still well. How have you been all these years? -----"

They would have expected anything but not to meet you. It were raw and mixed feelings. You know you owed Jiang Cheng your live for your family had taken his. You dared not to move your head his way and kept it strictly on the ground.

It was also Wei Wuxians family but it wasn't as deeply rooted.

Nie Huaisang was the first one to approach you, carefully. Asking what had happened to you. So until late night, you told them what happened to you, what your clan did to you, how you ended up here.

You also apologized again, falling to your knees, knowing you could not make up for the loses they had suffered. You started crying, begging for forgiveness.

They explained what had happened on their side, and also admitting they hoped they had not lost you but eventually gave up. You on the other hand did not blame them.

It was a bittersweet reunion after years of forming friendship, betrayal and chaos. Feeling pain and rejoycing again.

[e-of-west-glendia]

The Tunnel Of Love

“You dragged me all the way out here…to get on this?”

Remus stared at Sirius incredulously.

“Yep,” Sirius nodded.

Remus groaned and took another look at the ride. It was a massive boat ride that dipped into a large tunnel. The whole thing was adorned in hearts and roses and the words Tunnel Of Love were printed on an archway at the front in swooping cursive letters. The whole thing was oddly intimidating and mildly sickening.

Remus shook his head. “No. No way. I’m not getting on that thing.”

Sirius flashed him a wide smile, his grey eyes brimming with joy. Slipping an arm around Remus’ waist he said, “The way I see it there’s no real downside to you getting on it.”

Remus raised an eyebrow and peered down at his boyfriend. “Oh? And how do you figure that one?”

Sirius shrugged. “Well we’re already here and you wouldn’t want to waste a trip.”

Remus scoffed. He could think of plenty of times when Sirius had opted out of an activity once they’d gotten to the venue.

“You can’t be serious. I can think of plenty of times when you’ve done just that.”

Sirius laughed, he knew Remus was right. Still, not one to admit defeat he said, “I’m always Sirius.”

Remus narrowed his eyes at him. That joke had gotten old the first time they’d used it.

“Ha ha. You’re not clever.”

“I think I am. Besides, Lily and James are getting on it and I refuse to let them “out-couple” us on Valentines Day.”

———————————

The ride looks even worse up close, Remus thought. The shades of pink and red that the ride was decorated in were brighter and clashed even more horribly. Remus was honestly quite surprised that Sirius had talked him into this. Normally he’d have run away from this type of ride as fast as possible. He’d been on something like this before, and well, let’s just say that singing plastic animals would haunt his subconscious forever.

Lily seemed even more surprised that he was here than Remus did himself. She had raised her eyebrows so high Remus had begun to wonder if they’d just float away. Twisting away from James to get a better look at her friends who were making their way towards them. Sirius, not even remotely bothered by the death glares they received as he elbowed and shoved people out of their way. Leaving Remus to quickly apologize before being tugged forward.

“Remus?” Lily had asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not quite sure myself, actually.”

“He’s here to experience the wonders of love!” James exclaimed wrapping an arm around Remus’ shoulder. Remus frowned at him and quickly extracted himself.

Lily rolled her eyes at him. “I would’ve thought this wasn’t your cup of tea, for lack of better phrasing.”

“It isn’t,” Remus assured her. “Unfortunately this idiot over here managed to convince me.” He flicked his head towards Sirius.

“In the end, love always wins,” Sirius chirped.

Remus snorted. “Oh please. He lured me here under the promise of buying me chocolate once we got off this hell ride.”

Lily laughed at the wounded look on Sirius’ face. “Sounds about right.”

They shuffled forward a bit as the line progressed. Remus could now see the small two person boats disappear around the bend of the makeshift lake and into the tunnel. They looked rather small. He wasn’t sure how he was going to fit himself into one of those boats. He also knew that there was no backing out of this now and he’d have to make it work somehow. Remus let out a long suffering sigh.

“Cheer up, Remus!” James said. “It’s Valentine's Day! Be happy and experience the joys of young love.”

“I think you mean it’s Single People Appreciation Day,” Remus corrected, ducking to avoid a rather awkwardly placed wooden beam.

“But you’re not single,” Sirius pointed out.

“No,” Remus agreed. He cast the ride another venomous look. “But sometimes I wish I was.”

Sirius pouted. “Ouch, Remus. Just ouch.”

They’d finally reached the front of the line, watching as Lily and James drifted away in their own boat. The operator pulled on a lever and Remus watched as another boat pulled up to the side of the ride. The man motioned for someone to come forward and it took Remus a solid second to realize that he meant them.

Lucky for Remus (or unlucky depending on how you look at it) Sirius was there to pull Remus down the stairs and keep him from looking like an idiot. Sirius stepped into the boat first, water sloshing over the sides and into the bottom. He looked expectantly up at Remus who after a moment climbed into the boat.

Remus has been right, it was cramped. And with his and Sirius’ combined weight he’d been afraid the little boat might capsize. It had titled precariously to one side and dripped water into Remus’ jeans. He already hated this thing.

A boy who couldn’t have been much older than they were slumped over to their boat. He was holding a smoothie in one hand while he rested his other on the stair railing.

“Welcome to The Tunnel of Love,” he said dispassionately. He continued on in his monotonous tone, each word sounding more dead than the last.

“Where Love is born and happiness thrives. May our soothing waters relax your souls and let you fall in sync with the rhythm of love.”

Remus blinked. Rhythm of Love?? He was pretty sure he’d heard that in a song somewhere. Judging from the look on the guys face, this place looked more like where happiness came to die.

“Enjoy your ride,” the boy said boredly. He signaled to a guy in a booth, near the opposite side of the ride. Remus was jolted forward as the ride was carried away on the converybelt. His legs bent at an awkward angle. He was willing to bet that at least one of his legs would fall asleep by the end of this ride.

Sirius latched onto his arm and smiled happily at him. His eyes bubbling like champagne.

“This is going to be great!”

“Yeah,” Remus said, uncertain “Great.”

————————

The ride was most decidedly not great. As a matter of fact it had been just as awful as Remus had expected and somehow, amazingly, even worse.

Lily giggled when she saw the two of them exit the ride. Remus was soaking wet, dripping water from where he’d taken a dip in the water. The look he was giving Sirius could’ve killed. On the contrary, Sirius was exuberant. He all but skipped over to Lily and James.

“That. Was. Fantastic!!” Sirius said, drawing out each syllable.

“Agree to disagree,” Remus said bitterly.

“What on earth happened?” Lily asked, not even trying to hide her laughter.

“Remus took a dip in the river of love,” Sirius said cheerfully. “It was rather funny.”

Lily laughed while Remus scowled at his boyfriend. Remus was wearing wet jeans and a sweater that felt more like a sponge at this point. He couldn’t see any humor in this situation.

James just shrugged. “I guess he just wasn’t feeling the rhythm of love.”

“Oh I was definitely feeling the rhythm of something,” Remus said casting another evil glance at the so-called river. “But it definitely wasn’t love.”

James snorted and allowed himself to be tugged along to a gift shop by Lily.

“Come on, let's get the prints!”

“Yes,” Sirius said. “Let’s definitely do that.”

Remus groaned. He’d forgotten about the cameras. He most certainly didn’t want this moment immortalized in the form of a crappy photograph. There wasn’t much he could do, though. So he followed the others towards the shop.

He’d just finished wringing out most of the water from his sweater, when Lily, James, and Sirius finally emerged from the shop.

James and Lily started off in another direction — Lily pointing around something in the distance — while Sirius walked over to Remus.

“Y’know, I think these are some great pictures,” Sirius said, looking fondly at the pictures in his hand.

The cameras had managed to capture the exact moment Remus had fallen out of the boat and the exact moment he’d come back up from the water, looking like an extremely disgruntled and out of place fish. While Sirius, as usual, looked flawless. Dark hair curled in a halo around his face, head tilted upwards frozen in silent laughter. It had even captured the singing Cupid in the background, belting out some horrible robotic version of Stevie Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely.”

“I don’t know if I’d call them ‘great’, Padfoot.”

Sirius laughed, that loud, happy, sound that made fireworks go off inside Remus. Warming him to his core despite being sopping wet.

Sirius smiled down at the photos again. “Well, you definitely look lovely, and wonderful.” He looked up at Remus, his smile widening. “And night I add, very pretty too.”

Remus made an inarticulate sound of despair. “That song has been permanently ruined for me,” he grumbled.

Sirius grabbed Remus’ elbow and dragged Remus closer to him.

“Nah, I think it’s infinitely better now.”

“You would,” Remus said, allowing himself to be pulled closer to Sirius. His arms resting on his hips.

Sirius reached his arms around his neck. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Moony.”

Remus smiled softly at him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Then Sirius pressed their lips together, wrapping his arms around his back and tugging him closer. When they broke apart Remus was slightly breathless, and Sirius was beaming.

“Now,” Remus said. “Let’s go get my chocolate.”

[whatapunk]

Endings: Chapter 4

I’m sure everyone has forgotten about this by now but... I finally finished the fourth chapter I’ve been working on for over a month. I think I stressed over this chapter because I brought in some old Legends canon and that just made me overthink all. the. things. Anywho, maybe someone out there will enjoy it because even though I may take forever to update I’m really enjoying writing it! Especially now that I’ve started to explain my OC and get all the things in my head down on paper... 

Title: Endings

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Relationship: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla; Kanan Jarrus/female OC

Rating: m for the profanity, possibly for non-explicit intimacy later

Word Count: 3410

Previous Chapters: Ch. 1 / Ch. 2/ Ch. 3

16 years prior

Aboard CT-900 freighter, Exuberance

Kanan Jarrus hadn’t felt this way since he was on Kaller. He’d been chased by his old clone squadron for years since Order 66, but he’d never been discovered by an outsider before. Now, as he stood in the hallway of a ship in the middle of hyperspace, he pressed his forehead to the cold metal wall beside him. Sweat prickled on his neck and his head felt a little light. Knowing someone else knew he was a jedi hadn’t just scared him- it terrified him. 

Kanan took a deep breath and calmed himself, calling upon his meditation experience from when he was a jedi, funnily enough. He breathed again.

“Alright, lad?” a voice startled him out of his trance. 

Kanan straightened himself and tried hard to pretend he hadn’t just been leaning on the wall. The pilot, Mack, eyed him quizzically. 

“Kid?” 

At that, Kanan frowned, though he could feel his mind drained of all fight at the moment.

“Don’t call me that,” he said quietly and walked past the ship pilot and into the galley. 

Mack, who had better things to do than talk to one of his non-crew passengers (let alone a teenage one), pulled greasy work gloves from his hands and yelled down a shaft in the floor that led to the cargo bay. 

“Hey Rhia, don’t take too long moving those stacks- we’re starving up here!” Mack was smiling and laughing at his own joke, though Kanan could tell by the tone that Mack generally being obnoxious was his idea of joking. Kanan saw a skinny metal tool of some kind hurl itself up out of the hole in the floor, narrowly missing Mack’s face as he bent over the opening. Kanan smirked.

Mack strolled off down to his quarters and left Kanan alone in the galley. A few seconds later, Kanan heard a very loud crash in the cargo bay below, followed by a woman swearing even louder.

“Dank farrik!” Rhia yelled, exasperated. 

Kanan really wasn’t in the mood to be helpful, especially not toward Rhia. She’d been perfectly nice the entire time Kanan had been aboard Exuberance, but now she knew him. He replayed his last conversation, moments ago, with her over in his mind and felt ice in his gut. No, she’d manage on her own down there. 

Just as Kanan stood up to go to his own quarters, a couple more smaller crashes happened below. He rolled his eyes at himself, knowing he was a sucker for lending a quick hand, even if it was someone he’d hoped to never speak to again. 

Determined (disdainfully) to lend a hand, Kanan climbed down the ladder to the bay. Turning to face the expected mess, he was all but dumbstruck at what he didn’t expect to see. Rhia, nearly turned completely away from Kanan, was in the middle of tying her hair more securely back in place. Kanan was mesmerized. 

He’d noticed Rhia had vibrant, deep red hair the moment he’d seen her- anyone would. But she kept it up, tightly wound in a way that had hidden just how long it was. Not only that, but it didn’t look so, well, alien as it did all hanging loosely, catching the lights. It was long, hiding her entire back, and wavy, especially near the ends. Kanan’s mouth hung open and he couldn’t decide if he was seeing it sparkle or not. He’d been assuming she was just a fellow human, but looking at her now, he wasn’t so sure. She finished wrapping it up and caught a glimpse of him in the corner of her eye. She clearly thought about speaking but then hesitated, wondering how long he’d been standing there.

“Wow,” Kanan heard himself, unfortunately, utter. Rhia rolled her eyes, but revealed a small smile.

“That’s charming,” she said wryly. 

“Your hair, I’ve- I’ve neve seen anything like it,” he said, finally able to string some words together. Rhia’s smile faltered.

“Yeah, it’s genetic,” was all she offered before she went back to organizing the mess around her. When Kanan didn’t move, she started to get a little irritated. 

“What do you want, Kanan?” she asked, a little nastier than she meant to be. It seemed to bring him back to reality.

“I was just uh… I heard the crashes and thought you might need help,” he said feebly. Rhia softened at this. She also noted he refused to meet her eyes, a difference, she noted, that was new. New for the new dynamic that now surrounded and suffocated both of them: Kanan, a jedi outcast, and Rhia, the woman who’d found him out. 

“Oh,” she started, “well then thank you. Can you pick up the stacks over there while I get these?” she pointed and Kanan nodded, turning away silently, and began picking up the scattered cargo. 

Rhia went back to her own mess, but paused to watch him. He’d come all the way down here to help, but clearly not because of her. They’d been getting along so well it was hard for Rhia to remember that she had found him absolutely intolerable when she’d first met him. She’d only outed him for the good of her crew and to make sure that his identity didn’t bring them all down. She had absolutely no intentions of revealing the jedi to anyone and had promised that she would make up something else to tell the crew once they dropped them off at a far more remote location than Kanan and Janus had originally paid them for. But still, here it was, a chasm between the two of them, only instead of them both being on either side, Rhia stood at the top holding a rope from which Kanan dangled in the abyss below. Or at least that’s how it felt to him.

She knew what she had to do, the only thing that would ease the boy’s mind. 

“I’m a Morellian,” she said simply, eyes on her work. Kanan stopped and looked at her.

“What?”

“My species. We all have the hair.” 

Kanan’s brain finally caught up to what she was saying. Before seeing her hair, he’d never questioned her species and had been assuming, wrongly, that she was a human. Every other facet of her appearance led him to believe she was human, though now as his eyes were drawn again to her hair, he realized it made sense why he’d never encountered such a thing before. 

“Morellian? I’ve... never heard of them.”

“Well, they’re mostly a legend now, not something most people even hear about. I’ve not seen another like me since I was young,” she said, a more solemn edge to her tone. 

“Where are you from?” Kanan asked, interested in both the subject and changing it slightly.

“Morellia,” she started, letting out a little laugh at what sounded so obvious. “It’s a small planet out beyond the outer rim,” she explained. “I haven’t been there since I was young either.” 

“What happened to them?” Kanan asked before he had really thought about it.

“The last full clan of them was killed about 70 years ago,” she said, not looking at him. “There haven’t been Morellians on Morellia since.”

Kanan dropped the subject he now felt bad for asking about. He’d planned not to say another word and just finish helping her in silence when suddenly a thought occurred to him.

“Wait,” he began, “you said you’d been there- that you’d seen other Morellians when you were young. But that’d make you…” he trailed off, realizing the math and scrutinizing her carefully. She smirked. 

“We also live for a long time,” she explained. 

“So when you told me earlier that you were too old for me…” he said, questioning. 

“I’m 136.”

“Oh,” Kanan was suddenly lost for words. She certainly did look older than him, but not that old. He said the only thing he could think of. “Well, you look great.” 

Rhia laughed, genuinely. She was still very unsure of this kid, especially given his past, but he had a natural charm that she could tell he was in the midst of fine tuning. She was a person who generally liked the quiet and she liked being quiet; naturally, she also liked quiet people, or, even better- few to no people. But she already seemed to like being around this kid, even if she hadn’t at first. It was why she had started this conversation in the first place.

“Even before my species became so rare, we were sort of hunted," she began, a little out of nowhere. "I mean, in the right market, to the right buyer, especially now, a Morellian slave, or even just enough of our hair, could set up a person with wealth for life,” she said as casually as if she was telling him what was for dinner. She slid a hoverpad under a stack of crates and activated it, pushing it neatly into a corner. 

Kanan had stopped working and stared at her, brow furrowed and mouth slightly open. He was just about to ask her why she was telling him this when she continued.

“Maybe even more than something as rare as a jedi.”

Kanan felt his shoulders relax, having been more tensed up than he’d even realized. For the first time since Rhia had told him she knew of his identity, his mind stopped racing and he stepped out of fight-or-flight mode. She still didn’t look back at him, and no more words were said while they cleaned up the rest of the crates in the bay. The silence wasn’t awkward or tense though, and Kanan enjoyed it and felt real gratitude, a feeling that was few and far between for him these days. She’d put him back on the same level as herself, or really, put herself on his level. She didn’t have to at all, but she’d given up what he figured was probably her biggest secret to him; she reset the dynamic between them, just to put him at ease. Upon this realization, Kanan felt something else that had eluded him greatly in the last few years: trust.

***

Present Day

Kanan guided the twi’lek down the hall, battling to keep himself in a straight line so that he could guide her to do the same. Hera was all giggles.

“Kanan, I like her,” she said for the third time since they’d left Rhia in the galley. Kanan chuckled.

“Yes, she’s a very nice person,” he replied again, reaching a hand out to steady himself against the wall as Hera’s balance faltered. 

“I can definitely see why you guys dated,” she said, her voice slightly too loud.

“We didn’t exactly date,” Kanan interjected. He worried he came off as too defensive.

“Sorry,” Hera started, rolling her eyes playfully. “I can tell why you guys slept together frequently,” she said casually. Kanan chuckled but felt himself blush ever so slightly. 

Hera had never met a girl from Kanan’s past before, mostly because none of them lasted long enough for him to really even remember properly. He’d had a steady string of nothing steady for a long time in his late teens and early twenties, and Hera knew that much. She didn’t care, and Kanan could tell she meant that. So now, it felt weird to him for her to know not only who Rhia was, but to actually meet her as well. Kanan had never mentioned her to Hera. 

“And her hair is so red!” Hera announced, shaking Kanan out of his thoughts. “I’ve never seen hair like that, have you?”

“I’ve not-”

“I mean she’s gorgeous anyway,” Hera cut him off, “but she has such a striking… head!” Kanan laughed and Hera frowned at him.

“Don’t you laugh at me, Kanan Jarrus. You know I don’t drink much,” she said, putting a finger in his face. He pulled it gently down and held her hand. 

“I know, I haven’t had this much to drink in years I think.”

“You don’t sound drunk,” she said. They walked through their hangar doors and the Ghost appeared, parked before them. “How do I sound so much drunker than you? I didn’t even drink that much!” Hera’s volume increased again and Kanan softly shushed her, laughing. 

“I don’t know, but I promise you I’m only holding it together to impress you,” Kanan said, only half joking. He did seem to be slightly more sober than Hera, but truthfully he couldn’t feel his face. 

Kanan led Hera up Ghost’s ramp, both of them trying to keep their giggles as quiet as they could, for fear of bothering Zeb, Sabine, or Ezra. Finally, they made it to Hera’s quarters and he guided her to her bunk, laying her down and pulling off her boots. By the time he was finished, Hera’s eyes were drooping so low that for a moment he couldn’t tell if she was still awake. She smiled and curled her legs up closer to her chest, rolling to her side. 

“Kanan… I like her,” she said again, a whisper that faded into the final sigh she released before sleep took hold. Kanan smiled and kissed her forehead before he left, as silently as his stumbling could be. 

For a moment he’d considered going to his own quarters and letting the drunken fog behind his eyes lull him to sleep. But something else pressed on his mind, willing itself and his feet forward. He felt both an intense longing and a swollen mass of guilt inside his chest. The longing brought him back into the bay, back down the hallway, and back to a galley that still had a light on. The guilt had begun wrapping tendrils around his heart, his lungs- whatever was pounding in his chest. But the pounding slowed those tendrils down, shook some of them off, and Kanan’s foggy mind was in no position to follow anything except straight, concentrated feeling.

Nearly running into him, Rhia gasped at Kanan’s sudden appearance in the doorway. 

“Fuck, Kanan, you know it’s late and quiet and no one’s around, right?” Rhia asked, catching her breath. Kanan laughed at her, more than he usually would have. Rhia laughed it off, but readjusted her grip on the shoulder strap of her bag and flipped the light off, clear signs that she was on her way out. 

“I needed to use your fresher,” Kanan said, making an obvious effort to enunciate over his slurs. Rhia raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t have a fresher on your ship?” she asked, skeptical. 

“Zeb’s… showering,” he said, not so smoothly. “You know… fur,” he added, as if it was clarifying. Rhia nodded, but slowly. 

“Ah, well, sure. I’m down here,” she said, pointing and exiting the galley to her right. Her pulse, which had been so pleasantly dropped for the evening, suddenly quickened, and that plus the alcohol started to make her queasy. She walked quickly so it would feel like there was a breeze. Even so, it was a short walk before they’d arrived. 

Rhia punched in her code and the door slid past them almost silently. Inside, there was a dull wall light that glowed a sunset-colored orange that bathed things in just the right amount of light to see where everything was. To save energy and to encourage regular sleeping patterns, the light remained this color until 0500, when it would begin to brighten to a bold white. This was the first time Rhia found herself wishing she could override such things.

Rhia knew why he’d asked to come in. Even if he really did have to use the fresher, the point was still just to be inside, away from anything and anyone. She could now feel her heart rate increasing more every second it seemed, and all it did was make her angry with herself, which made it worse. 

“It’s there,” she said softly and pointed to the door on the left, the other one being a small closet. 

Once he’d closed the door behind him Rhia felt her shoulders fall as she breathed out loudly, unaware that she’d been holding back. She sat down on her bed to untie her boots, thinking desperately about what she was going to say- what she was going to have to say. When she heard the flush she stood up quickly, worried about how it would look to him if he came out and she was sitting on the bed. She turned to her dresser, where she began rifling through her sock drawer when Kanan came out of the fresher. She took a quiet but deep breath.

“I know why you’re here, Kanan,” she said evenly.

“Why I am here- like on this ship? Or like here, here?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice. He was at the part of the night where everything that comes out of his mouth is somehow a joke. Every statement had a natural lift in tone at the end, as if it were a punchline. She wanted to roll her eyes because it both drove her insane and, for some reason, greatly affected the strength of her knees. She had to stay serious though; she did not want to be that kind of person. 

“Kanan,” and she turned to face him. “I know why you’re here. I shouldn’t- we shouldn’t have had so much to drink. I know why you wanted to come in here, but I just can’t,” she said, the last words coming out with more exasperation than she’d meant to show. He was barely listening.

“You don’t know why I’m here, Rhia,” he said calmly, that tranquil smile glued to his face.

“Kanan I know what you want- it just-”

“You really don’t.” “Kanan-” she started, her voice beginning to raise. His voice, unchanging this whole time, cut her off.

“Can I see your hair?” he asked, the drunkenness of the words and the way he said them enveloping her in something that felt so wholesome. Her hands, which she’d begun to raise in an exhausted gesture, fell to her sides, her arms suddenly feeling so heavy.

Kanan looked at her and even in the fogginess of his inebriated brain he knew he’d remember what she looked like when everything about her suddenly softened. Rhia paused. Her mouth fell open just slightly, but instead of speaking she simply offered him a shaky but honest head nod. She gave him the smallest smile before she turned back around to face her dresser and her hands went up into the knot of hair she kept piled on top of her head. 

Kanan watched her remove a few pins first, silently placing them on top of her dresser, and slowly strands and chunks of hair began to fall away. Once she was done with those, she worked her fingers beneath the bun, finding the ends of her hair and unwinding what seemed to be an endless ponytail. This wasn’t the first time Kanan had watched her do this, and it was every bit as mesmerizing as he remembered. Even in the dull orange light, it glimmered, reminding him of the way a grassy hill seems to shimmer in the wind.

Rhia undid the final tie and it all came cascading down her shoulders, throwing a fiery halo around her in every direction as she turned back around to face him. She ran her fingers through it a bit, feeling the relief of the tension off of her scalp. 

Kanan watched as the sunset-colored ceiling lamp made her shine like something that had been detonated. The slightest motion of her head threw ripples of metallic colors from root to tip, and Kanan tried to look at every inch of it at once, not wanting to miss such an amazing opportunity. Rhia was pleasantly attractive to most people and would be with or without hair. But with this hair, long and untamed as it was now, even in this artificial light, she looked positively divine. If she’d claimed now, in this moment, that she was some mythical goddess, there wasn’t a soul in the galaxy who wouldn’t believe her, let alone Kanan. He knew she wasn’t though, and that knowledge just made him like her more. She was just Rhia- beautiful Rhia. 

She met his eyes as they took a break from roaming around her head. He swallowed. 

“Oh, kriff.”

[clownao]

A few of you seem to be interested in my OC Mio. So I did this OC fic instead of writing Which Partner... yeah. I have no self control.

***

wasabi

 Mio stared at the huge onigiri laying innocently in front of her.

 Karma’s cacophonous cackles rang through the classroom. “Oy, Hikage, you know you can back out any second now,” he teased her, a wicked smirk on his face.

 “I'm going to eat this,” Mio murmured savagely, glaring daggers at the offending onigiri.

 Mio had been imitating Karma and his mannerisms for fun, but she'd went a bit too overboard and angered Karma. Karma, being the malicious devil he was, challenged Mio to a bet. Mio brashly agreed, and to her severe humiliation, she lost the bet. And now she had had to eat a spiced onigiri filled with wasabi. Technically, she could refuse (read: chicken out), but she didn't want her reputation to be damaged further. And besides, Karma’s smug face was really pissing her off.

 “You deserve this,” Kataoka had just commented when Mio talked about it.

 Nakamura casually leaned against Mio’s desk, observing the onigiri with interest. “Come on, a little wasabi can't bother our ruthless Mio-chan, right?”

 Kimura, one of Mio’s best friends, happened to be watching. Upon seeing a uncharacteristic waver in Mio’s eyes, and the way her hand shook slightly, he began to wonder if the daring Mio was actually afraid of spicy food. After all, he'd never seen her eat anything remotely spicy. She even had some reservations when Kimura offered her his mom’s famous homemade curry.

 So that's how this girl can be defeated… using wasabi.

 “Hikage, don't force yourself if you're not up to it,” Kimura called, unusual worry for his friend bubbling inside him.

 “Oooh,” Karma and Maehara drawled. They had taken up a habit of wolf-whistling every time Kimura and Mio talked, which was seriously annoying Kimura.

 Mio shook her head stubbornly. “Don't worry, Kimura! I will finish this onigiri.” She grabbed a water bottle, and plopped it on her desk with unnecessary force.

 “I. Am. Ready,” Mio announced, face stiffening with determination. Nakamura, Karma, and Maehara clapped boisterously and cheered her on.

 “... If you say so.” Kimura sweatdropped.

 Mio could feel the eyes of the class on her. She’d always been so cool and casual in front of her classmates; she couldn't afford to panic now. Her hand reached out for the onigiri, and gripped it firmly.

 Jeez, that Karma had to make it plus-sized too… and he knows my favourite food is onigiri. He'd gone so far on this personal attack!

 Squeezing her eyes shut, Mio slowly lifted the dreaded onigiri to her mouth. When it was around halfway there, Mio thought “fuck it”, stuffed the onigiri in her mouth, and chomped down. It wasn't like she had anything more to lose.

 “Mio-chan!” Nakamura exclaimed.

 For a single, shining moment, Mio could taste the gorgeous, glutinous grains of rice, which lured her in a false sense of security-

 Then pain abruptly invaded Mio’s senses. She coughed, instinctively whipping the onigiri away. Her tongue was burning and sizzling, and her mouth and eyes watered. Soon, her throat began to feel like it was on fire. She blindly grabbed her water bottle and chugged half of its contents down.

 “Wow…” her classmates gaped, equal parts horrified, amused, and in awe.

 “Gah!” Mio burst out, her tongue dangling out, which made her look like a dog. “The actual fuck-”

 “Language!” Kataoka hollered from the other side of the room.

 “Hikage, you okay?” Maehara approached her and asked.

 “If you can't do it, it's okay too!” Nakamura said.

 “Your face is all red,” Hazama commented idly.

 “Oy!” Kimura barked upon seeing the classmates crowding around his friend. “Give her some space! Hikage, don't do anything stupid!”

 “Ha…” Mio wiped a few tears from her eyes. “Kimura’s finally acting like a police officer… so cool… so full of authority…”

 “Hey, why did you add that ‘finally’?” Kimura cried, eyebrows pinched together. “And I was actually concerned about you!”

 (Kimura usually didn't mind Mio’s jokes, but maybe seeing her so affected by wasabi of all things made Kimura a little touchy. At least he could see the wasabi hadn't killed Mio’s sassy brain.)

 “Eat it slowly, will you? No one wants you to choke and die,” Hazama remarked bluntly.

 Maehara coughed. “Let's kill Korosensei using a wasabi-filled onigiri.”

 “Very encouraging, Hazama-chan.” Mio rolled her eyes. The girl resolved to finish this cursed onigiri as quickly as possible, or else she would prolong her suffering. She took the onigiri again and braced herself for the second assault-

 “I'm going to get some water!” Kimura yelled. He grabbed Mio’s water bottle and zoomed to the water fountain outside. The other students felt a sudden breeze whoosh past them as Kimura dashed away. The panting boy ran back to the classroom, where Mio was furiously chomping rice and wasabi in her mouth. A red flush began to fill her cheeks, and he could see what suspiciously looked like moisture in her eyes.

 “Take it easy, Mio-chan.” Nakamura cheerily wiped the sweat from Mio’s face.

 “You're doing great, and Karma is a douchebag.” Hazama flipped through a book on curses.

 Karma’s mercury eyes were dancing with mischief. “This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't had made so much fun of me,” he drawled.

 Mio snatched the water bottle from Kimura, and drank it as if it was her lifeline (it probably was). The cool liquid ran down her throat, soothing her tingling tongue. “Kimura, you're a lifesaver,” she mumbled after a long drink. “I love you.”

 Even though Kimura knew it didn't mean anything, hearing the words “I love you” still made his heart skip a beat. Which was really weird, because Mio was like a wacky sister to him.

 “I'm sorry I had to make you go through this." Mio sent Kimura an apologetic glance. “It'll hopefully get better from now on.”

 “Sorry to burst your bubble, but it'll probably feel worse and worse until you desperately crave the sweet release of death,” Hazama said. “Just trying to mentally prepare you.”

 Throughout the next ten minutes, Mio did her best to cram the wasabi onigiri down her stomach, while Kimura became a delivery boy, and made countless trips to the water fountain and back to bring cold water. The other students were all yelling and cheering, their voices growing greater with every bite she finished.

 “You're almost done!” Nakamura’s hands tightly gripped Mio’s desk, her baby blue eyes shimmering with anticipation.

 “Not to sound dramatic, but I want to fucking die.” Mio’s speech was slurred due to the intense sensations her tongue was experiencing. She coughed loudly, and every hot breath that escaped her lips was a torture to her mouth. Her tired eyes found the very last piece of onigiri, and she found she had no strength or motivation to move.

 “G-go for it!” Kimura’s red forehead was dotted with beads of sweat, and he solidly placed the water bottle besides Mio. He then bended and placed his palms on his knees.

 Mio felt sorry for Kimura. He didn't have to do so much for her, especially when he wasn’t involved. But she could hardly form a sentence to convey that.

 The class’s cheers crescendoed into a defeating roar as Mio gingerly picked up the mixture of rice and wasabi. Her lips parted and with magical resolve, she put it in her mouth and chewed. After what felt like a century, she swallowed.

 “I… finished?” she muttered, dazed.

 “HOORAY!” Nakamura flung her arms in the air. “Mio-chan! Mio-chan!”

Kimura practically shoved the water bottle in her face. “Drink th-this.”

 Mio’s face was as red as a tomato, and strands of hair were plastered to her sweaty forehead. She gladly took the bottle.

 “I don't want to eat an onigiri ever again,” Mio mumbled. “I'm so done.”

 “But Mio-chan, your favourite food is onigiri!”

 Mio slumped over her desk, red cheeks squishing against the surface. “I've been defeated…” Her voice was unusually soft.

 Maehara and Okajima watched the girl with interest. “Is it just me, but Hikage… without her mean words… looks pretty cute now…”

 That irritated Mio. “Oy, you boys-” she started to say, but broke into a coughing fit. Nakamura thumped on her back with much gusto.

 Kimura himself was hot and tired after all that running. He stumbled to a nearby seat, not caring whose it was.

 “Kimura-chan!”

 Kimura’s head immediately snapped up, because there was only one person he knew that would call him with the suffix “chan”.

 Kurahashi bounded over, a carton of apple juice in her hand. The cute smile on her face was dazzling Kimura.

 “Kimura-chan worked really hard today!” Kurahashi sang. “Here, take this juice to replenish your energy!”

 Kimura’s eyes widened. “E-eh? I-I-I can't d-do that-” he stuttered.

 He was too late, and Kurahashi had already pressed the carton in his hands. “Kimura-chan was really cool just now~~”

 Pink dotted Kimura’s cheeks, and he scratched his head sheepishly. “Ah, really?” the flattered boy laughed.

 As Kimura happily sipped his apple juice, Mio said, “Thanks for helping me, Kimura. You didn't have to do that. It was all my fault.”

 “No problem. What are friends for?” he flashed Mio a grin.

 “Ah, you two must be exhausted.”

 Kimura and Mio tilted their head to see the class mom Hara with a placid smile. She was holding an onigiri.

 The old Mio would've cheered loudly and eaten the onigiri in a view bites, but now she just wanted to vomit.

 “I can't have you hating onigiri for the rest of your life, so I saved one from lunch for you. I guarantee it tastes delicious,” Hara said.

 “... You don't have to…” Mio was so moved, tears began to form in her eyes.

 Hara took out a pair of chopsticks and divided the onigiri in two. “Here, take half too, Kimura. You need it.”

 Kimura and Mio were shocked by Hara’s kindness, but they couldn't refuse.

 “T-thank you, Hara-san,” Kimura looked at her gratefully. He poked Mio in the side. “Hey, say thank you too!”

 “Thank you…”

The class watched as the duo munched on Hara’s onigiri, while Hara petted their heads in a motherly way.

 “This onigiri… is a gift from God,” Mio announced, grains of rice on her face. “It has restored my faith in humanity. Hara, I am forever in your debt. ”

 “Don't talk with your mouth full!” Kataoka reminded.

 Hara just chuckled. “Now, Mio, don't be so risky anymore, okay? People may take revenge, and you may suffer.”

 “Yeah, that's true,” Karma added, but from his facial expression, everyone could see clearly he was still mad at Mio. Mio noticed his look, and glared at him.

 “I'm not forgiving you, red feathered dude,” Mio said icily.

 “Good to know. I'm not forgiving you either.” Karma idly played with his rubber knife, but his bloodlust was obvious.

 “You are playing a very dangerous game here,” Hazama murmured in her ear.

 “Well,” Mio yawned. “That's the cost of having a fun life.”

***

I also filled out the assclass OC fic bingo sheet by @dr-j33 just for fun. I was tempted to add "Nagisa who?" but lmao Nagisa doesn't appear much in my non OC fanfics anyway.

[welllpthisishappening]

Out of the Frying Pan (13/?)

“That’s not even fair!” Henry yelled, voice tinged with laughter and slightly out of breath. He was sprawled back across the couch, legs stretched out like he’d fallen over into the cushions, sword in one hand and a wide smile on his face.

Killian laughed in response, facing away from Emma as she came back into the room and she had to bite her lip again to stop some sort of audible reaction to the sight of him. He was wearing all black – a long, leather jacket she could only begin to imagine where he got and a sword held in his right hand, pointed directly at Henry’s chest.

And Emma wasn’t entirely positive how she was supposed to deal with all of this.

“You need to learn how to parry better,” Killian laughed, back still facing her. He was standing with his feet apart – like they’d been swordfighting in the middle of her living room – and when he rested the blade of the fake sword on his shoulder, Emma didn’t know if she’d seen anything more attractive.

AN: There are a lot of words here and a lot of things happen and I continue to love all of you a ridiculous amount. As always @laurnorder is an endless source of delight and word-reading and she reads so many of my words. She’s the best. 

Hanging out on Ao3 and tag’ed up on Tumblr. 

She was wearing a witch's hat.

And she might actually kill Ruby.

A week after the Wine and Food Festival and Killian’s timely explanation for why Emma hadn’t been waiting with baited breath to walk onto the stage for the all-star panel, her producer had made it her life’s goal to make Emma go crazy.

And she’d done her best to play along – agreed to the Halloween-themed episode like she was goddamn Sandra Lee or something and even sat through a meeting with Zelena about the possibility of getting her timeslot back if she did more of these fun episodes.

But this was taking it too far. She was practically wearing a costume on TV and this wasn’t supposed to be a joke. This was supposed to be a semi-serious show that actually showed how to cook, not bring in witch’s hats and the best way to repurpose your kid’s leftover Halloween candy.

Emma missed her mark – the third time she’d done that so far – and Ruby groaned from behind the camera as Elsa yelled cut. “Emma!” Ruby said, voice filled with irritation and she did her best not to actually glare at her, yanking the hat off her head. “Come on, just once. Just once! You stand on the scotch tape and you talk about trick or treating and using chocolate and then we’ll be done.” She’d heard this speech twice before. And she still couldn’t seem to get it right.

“I know,” Emma mumbled.

“What’s the matter?” “This doesn’t seem a bit much to you?” “What’s a bit much?” “Rubes, I am wearing a witch’s hat. This is bordering dangerously close to absurd.” “No,” Ruby countered patiently, but there was a muscle ticking in her jaw. “This is festive. And will bring in viewers. Isn’t that the goal?” “Of course it is. But if I can’t bring in viewers on my own, what’s the point?” And there, Emma thought, was the crux of her problem. She’d never had trouble driving interest or an audience – the long line after the Wine and Food panel determined to get her autograph was proof of that – but this time change and the downward turn in numbers had done enough to shake her confidence just a bit.

They’d always come for her – even when she was cooking in actual restaurants. And now they were having to rely on hats and props and gimmicks and Emma’s whole body ached with disappointment.

She was, always, her own worst critic and despite assurances from Ruby and Zelena and every member of her family – Emma felt like she had failed.

And the hat looked ridiculous with her hair.

“You are bringing in viewers,” Ruby argued. “Ones who are interested in Halloween theming. Come on, we’re almost done. Just give it a chance and hit your mark and then you can go home and finish Henry’s costume.” Emma sighed, rolling her eyes, but she knew Ruby was right. It was far from perfect and far from what she wanted, but if she needed to wear the stupid hat to get her timeslot and her show back, then she would wear the stupid hat.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “Run it again.” “Let’s go, El,” Ruby yelled over her shoulder, retreating back out of frame as Emma squinted underneath the studio lights.

“Now,” Elsa yelled – refusing ever to say action because it was some kind of cliché and this was a cooking show, not a big-budget blockbuster. Emma pulled the hat back on top of her head, brushing her hair out of her eyes and hit her mark on the next try.

“That was perfect,” Ruby said, walking back into the kitchen and smiling at Emma. “Granted, it took you several dozen years to get it perfect, but we’ll take what we can get.” “Rude.” “Are you going later?” “To my brother and sister-in-law’s annual Halloween extravaganza?” Emma asked sarcastically. Ruby shrugged. “M’s would murder me if I didn’t go. Of course I’m going to go.” “What’s Henry doing?”

“Going trick or treating in Chelsea with a bunch of friends from school.” “And you’re cool with that?” Emma was absolutely not cool with that – it had taken nearly a week of Henry asking and an actual phone call with Violet’s dad to ensure there was some parental supervision before she’d actually agreed to let him go. But he was twelve – as he so helpfully pointed out several times – and had friends and didn’t want to sit in Uncle David’s apartment without any other kids around and Emma had eventually given in.

“I’m fine with it,” she lied.

“Sure,” Ruby laughed. “What are you going to wear?” “That’s a surprise.” “Spoilsport.” “It’s Henry’s fault,” Emma argued. “He hates spoilers.” “This isn’t a TV show.” “No, it’s life. That seems more important than a TV show.” “Deep,” Ruby laughed.

“I’m getting existential in my old age.” “Please, you’re practically a child,” Ruby contradicted as the crew around them deconstructed the very themed set.

“Yeah, with a twelve-year-old.” “You know people don’t care about that.” Emma narrowed her eyes, wondering where exactly Ruby was going with this, when her producer nodded over her shoulder. She spun on the spot – witch’s hat nearly flying off her head in the process – to find Killian Jones walking onto her set, still sporting an Iron Chef jacket and a very particular type of smirk that did several very particular things to Emma’s pulse.

“See,” Ruby continued, leaning forward to whisper in Emma’s ear. “I don’t think he cares about that.” “Shut up.” “I’m just saying.” “And I’m just saying, shut up.”

Ruby laughed, straightening back up and Emma couldn't stop staring at Killian. He’d been as good as his word a few days before, dropping off cookies in the middle of her meeting with Zelena and Ruby and earning Emma a solid five minutes of questions from her suddenly very-interested and very pro-relationship producer. And she’d told herself the rest of the night that they were friends and that was enough.

It sounded more and more stupid the more she said it.

“Hey Killian,” Ruby said. “Long time no see.” “Nice to see you again, Ruby.”

“You know, I’m a little jealous. No one’s ever baked cookies for me.” “They weren’t really for me,” Emma said, regretting joining the conversation as soon as she spoke. “Did Henry text you?” she asked, ignoring the noise Ruby made behind her and glanced up at Killian, blue eyes practically overwhelming her in the kitchen. “He was supposed to.” “He did. Asked for brownies next time.”

“You don’t have to do that.” “I know.”

She was still wearing the stupid hat. And Ruby hadn’t left yet. “What are you doing here?” Emma asked, trying to redirect the conversation to something she felt even remotely in control of. “I figured you’d be all themed out at The Jolly.” Ruby sounded like she was choking on air. Emma made a face at her over her shoulder and she finally seemed to get the hint. “Uh, I’ve got to go,” she said. “Post-production meeting. Or something. I’ll see you later, Emma.” Emma nodded only looking back at Killian once she couldn’t hear Ruby’s heels on the linoleum floor anymore. “Sorry about that,” she said quickly, but Killian brushed her off even faster.

“Don’t worry about it, love. I knew I was taking your life in my hands a bit with the cookies before, but I wasn’t quite sure how else to get them to you.” “Henry really appreciated them. The team went nuts for them.” “So he said. I’m glad.” Emma grinned, fighting off the wave of butterflies she felt at the idea that this guy actually wanted to do things for her son. She should have been more worried about that. She should have been worried about Henry getting attached or what would happen if this fell apart. And she couldn’t bring herself to.

Because she was getting attached too.

“So no theme then?” she asked a bit breathlessly. He shook his head, lower lip sticking out slightly and she wondered what it would be like to actually take two steps towards him and kiss him – hard.

That caught her by surprise.

He was impossibly good looking – she’d realized that as soon as she’d sat down at that very first meeting – but in the last few weeks he’d gotten under her skin and worked his way into her life and Henry’s life and she wanted to kiss him. A lot. Not because he was good looking, but because he seemed to care so goddamn much.

“Nah,” Killian answered, shaking Emma out of her thoughts. “Well, that’s not entirely true. There’s a theme. Just not one I’m in charge of. Halloween is strictly Ari’s territory. Has been since she started working at The Jolly. She’s recruited Eric since then and they’ve got a whole thing with reservations and a different menu and the whole nine yards. I’m not even cooking tonight. I just show up and try and give Roland as much candy as possible before Regina yells at me.” “Ari?”

“Oh, Ariel,” he said quickly. “Old nickname habits die hard.” Emma nodded, the bits of a plan forming in the back of her brain and, suddenly, she decided to get a bit reckless. It only terrified her slightly.

“You don’t have to cook tonight?” she asked, doing her best to keep her voice light. “Is that why you’re here? Trying to fill some time?” He pointed at the Iron Chef logo on his jacket, the teasing smile on his face doing something to her ability to stay standing. “I won, Swan. Again.” “Impressive.” “Always.” She licked her lips quickly and noticed Killian’s eyes dart down at that – maybe this wouldn’t be as difficult as she thought. “Then you’re all done?” “I didn’t run away from set, love,” he laughed. “I finished and heard you were still filming. Figured I’d ask about the cookie consumption in person. Why?” “What are you doing later?” His eyebrows sailed up his forehead so quickly Emma wondered if he could get whiplash from that. “What?” he asked, voice hoarse and she got a bit of extra confidence from that. If she kept him off his footing just a bit, then this wouldn’t be the most difficult thing she’d done in thirteen years.

“Later,” she repeated. “I mean I know you’ve got to be at The Jolly…” “I don’t have to be at The Jolly,” he interrupted quickly, eyes pulling away from her lips to meet hers straight and they were so blue and so full of something that Emma nearly gasped.

“Oh, ok. Well, David and M’s have an annual Halloween party and it’s over-the-top and ridiculous and we all have to dress up, but it’s also kind of fun and maybe you’d like to go?”

He stared at her for what felt like several hours Emma felt her confidence deflate a little bit. “You know,” she added, “as friends?” His eyes flickered and she thought one side of his mouth ticked up, but then he was back to impassive stare and Emma bit her lip tightly. “You have to dress up?” he asked. That wasn’t the follow-up question she’d been expecting.

“I know it’s late notice.” “No, it’s fine, Swan. I was just confirming.” Emma nodded. “M’s won’t let anyone in the apartment if they’re not in costume. It’s a rule.” “Well, far be it from me to break the rules.” The nerves and the butterflies and the feeling like a fifteen-year-old with a crush rushed back and Emma twisted her mouth. “So…” she said slowly. “You want to go, then?” “I would love to go.” “Really?” She should work on her confidence more. Or get better at asking people out. As friends. Because they were friends. Mary Margaret was going to lose her mind when Killian walked into the apartment.

“I think I just said yes, Swan,” he grinned at her, taking a step forward and making his way into her space the same way he seemed to make his way into her life. Like he belonged there. “When?” “Like seven? A little after.” He nodded. “And where exactly am I going?” Oh. She hadn’t really considered that. Granted, she hadn’t really considered anything, but she wasn’t quite sure what to answer. “Swan?”

“I normally walk to their apartment,” she said, realizing she hadn’t really answered his question.

“Ok,” he answered, laughing softly. “Not sure that helps me.” “You could pick me up,” Emma cut in, eyes wide as she spoke and laid her metaphorical hopes on the metaphorical floor at his feet.

Killian tilted his head and she thought he was about to take a step back when his fingers wrapped around her wrist, seemingly out of instinct, like he was trying to keep his balance or something. She felt like she was going to fall over.

“If you want,” he said softly.

“I think I just did. Three blocks from The Jolly. Down,” she added before he could ask about the direction. “Like straight down the block.” “That seems fairly easy.”

Emma tried to breathe like a normal human being again, but that was proving more difficult than normal with his fingers wrapped around her wrist and his thumb drawing nonsensical patterns across her pulse point. “I’ve got all the faith in the world in such an impressive Iron Chef,” she said and she was mostly joking, but the look on Killian’s face made it seemed like she’d just written him a glowing review on the front page of The New York Times.

Oh God, she was still wearing the stupid hat.

“Thank you, Swan,” he said softly and her heart thudded in her chest, like it was trying to push its way out of her body and announce that, despite the last thirteen years, it was still there and still very capable of functioning.

“I didn’t do anything,” Emma muttered.

“Kept me from having to deal with the absurd Halloween event happening at my restaurant.” “Wait until we get to David and M’s apartment. You don’t know absurd Halloween until you’ve been to this party.” “I’m looking forward to it.” And it sounded like a promise, much bigger than Halloween or baking cookies for Henry’s soccer team. Her heart beat even faster.

“I’m serious about the costume though,” Emma warned. “M’s won’t let you in. Even if you did win Iron Chef this afternoon.” “I can follow the rules, Swan,” he laughed, nodding towards the hat she was still somehow wearing. “What are you going as? Witch?” Emma shook her head quickly. “You’ll have to wait and see.” “What? You don’t even tell your own date what you’re dressing up as? What if I wanted to coordinate?” He seemed to realize what he’d said immediately, hand dropping away from her wrist and his eyes were almost entirely blue when Emma looked back up. She tried to smile – the word date practically bouncing off the inside of her head.

“We don’t have to coordinate,” she said and her voice was doing that stupid breathless thing again. “I hate when people do that.” “Noted. Still no clue though?” “You’ll just have to wait until you pick me up.”

“You’re a costume tease, Swan.” “I’m just trying to make sure you show.”

She should stop trying to make jokes. It wasn’t working. And the tension in the now abandoned kitchen studio was so thick Emma was positive she could have cut it with one of her very expensive knives.

“You don’t have to try and persuade me, love,” he said and his voice felt like one of those same expensive knives, moving into her and lingering in the oxygen she was desperately trying to get into her lungs. “I want to come.” And that did it.

He wanted. And Emma wanted. And she absolutely shouldn’t have used the word friends.

This was going to be a disaster.

Or the best night she’d had in years.

Emma nodded slowly, Killian’s eyes practically staring through her and she reached forward to grip his arm only realizing it was his left after she’d moved. He stared at it for a moment, smile inching across his face slowly, like he couldn’t believe she’d done that.

“I’ve got to go,” she said, drawing his eyes back up to her. “Henry’s going trick or treating with friends later and I promised I’d make sure the costume was finished.” “Of course.” “Seven o’clock?” Killian’s eyes dropped back to her hand, still wrapped around his forearm, and nodded. And then he smiled at her and Emma wasn’t sure she was even standing anymore. “Perfect,” he said.

“You have your phone?”

“Yeah.” “And you know where I’ll be.” “I know where Uncle David and Aunt Mary Margaret live.” Emma lowered her eyebrows at Henry, but he didn’t even react to her mom look – instead he smiled knowingly at her and made a face. She felt like she was at distinct disadvantage when he did things like that.

“Relax, mom,” Henry sighed, grabbing the sword that went with his costume. Emma wasn’t certain if she should be encouraging costumes that came with plastic swords – something about violence and responsibility as an adult or whatever – but Henry had been incredibly serious about the choice and she got the distinct impression that there was some sort of costume-based plan with Violet that he wasn’t telling her.

“It’s the first time you’re going out on Halloween by yourself,” Emma said, not for the first time. “I just want to make sure there’s a plan.” “There are plans for the plan. And it’s not really by myself. Violet’s dad is coming with us and there’s going to be like six other kids there.” Emma nodded – for as many times as she had asked Henry about the details for the night, he had told her the same thing. He could probably recite his answers by heart at this point. That didn’t do anything to stifle her nerves.

Although Emma wasn’t entirely positive if that was because Henry was going trick or treating by himself or because she was bringing Killian to the Halloween party in SOHO.

“You should go get changed,” Henry continued. “Killian’ll probably be here soon.” “You sure you don’t want me to bring you to Violet’s?” Henry was shaking his head before Emma had even finished talking. “You should go get changed,” he repeated.

“That didn’t answer my question.” “I know.” Emma pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at her son who simply grinned at her. “It’s fine,” he said, dragging out the syllables in the words for emphasis. “You don’t have to worry about me.” And that did something very specific to Emma’s heart. She tugged Henry close, ignoring his quiet groan at this over-the-top display of affection in the middle of their living room. “You are the absolute best you know that,” she said into his hair.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Henry laughed. “Go change, mom. He said he was on his way like ten minutes ago.” “What?” The buzzer sounded – making Emma jump and Henry laugh again – and it was like her kid was some sort of soothsayer. “How’d you know that?” “Go. Change.” Emma made a face and Henry didn’t even blink, turning back towards the front door to, apparently, buzz in a ten-minutes-early Killian Jones. She bit her lip tightly, but moved when Henry glanced over his shoulders with a wide-eyed, expectant stare and tried not to trip over the dress when she put it on.

Strictly speaking, she wasn’t much for Halloween – her resistance to the themed episode a testament to that – but Mary Margaret was obsessed , had been for as long as Emma could remember, and the annual Halloween party was actually something she looked forward to. She heard the front door open and Henry yelled something and Emma was smiling before she realized her mouth had moved, stomach flipping with nerves and anxiety and, maybe, even a bit of excited energy.

Emma glanced in the mirror one last time, tugging the braid she’d finished earlier over her shoulder, and walked back down the hallway.

“That’s not even fair!” Henry yelled, voice tinged with laughter and slightly out of breath. He was sprawled back across the couch, legs stretched out like he’d fallen over into the cushions, sword in one hand and a wide smile on his face.

Killian laughed in response, facing away from Emma as she came back into room and she had to bite her lip again to stop some sort of audible reaction to the sight of him. He was wearing all black – a long, leather jacket she could only begin to imagine where he got and a sword held in his right hand, pointed directly at Henry’s chest.

And Emma wasn’t entirely positive how she was supposed to deal with all of this.

“You need to learn how to parry better,” Killian laughed, back still facing her. He was standing with his feet apart – like they’d been swordfighting in the middle of her living room – and when he rested the blade of the fake sword on his shoulder, Emma didn’t know if she’d seen anything more attractive.

Henry rolled his eyes with all the drama his twelve-year-old face could handle and glanced over Killian’s shoulder to meet Emma’s gaze. “Mom, tell Killian he can’t cheat like that! It’s totally not fair. I would have won if he played by the rules.” Killian’s shoulders stiffened quickly when he realized Emma was behind him, spinning to stare at her with wide, blue eyes. The sword was still resting on his shoulder. “And what exactly are you supposed to be? Jack Sparrow?” Emma asked, eyes trailing over his body before she could stop herself.

It wasn’t her fault – everything just fit so well.

And God, was that a vest?

Fuck.

There was an actual scabbard hanging off his waist.

Killian smirked at her, pulling his left hand up to reveal a shiny, silver hook on the end of his wrist. “Jack Sparrow’s old news, Swan. I’m Captain Hook.” Emma’s laughter shook her whole body and Henry groaned from his spot on the couch. “And a cheater too!” “Pirate,” Killian shrugged. “What’d you expect?” Henry huffed and pushed himself off the couch, stabbing Killian’s side as he walked towards the door, grabbing his coat as he went. “You sure you don’t want me to bring you uptown?” Emma asked again and she was certain if Henry kept rolling his eyes, his face was going to get stuck that way.

“Mom,” he sighed dramatically, yanking the door open. “It is fine. Go. I’ll save you the Reese's, ok?” “Yeah, ok,” Emma said, trying not to feel too guilty. Henry didn’t seem to mind. “Have fun!” she yelled as he walked out the door.

“You too,” he answered, slamming the thing shut and leaving her, suddenly, alone in her apartment with Killian. Dressed as Captain Hook. With a sword in his hand and a bordering on absurd amount of leather on his body.

“He’ll be fine, Swan,” Killian said softly, practically making Emma jump out of the costume she had on.

“You think?” Killian nodded. “It’s just...this is the first time he’s not coming to the party and it is Halloween in New York and, well, I worry.” “You don’t have to rationalize worrying about your son, love.” Emma looked at him, smiling slightly and ignoring the way her stomach continued to flip over that ridiculous costume. He grinned back at her – that slightly nervous, earnest one that seemed to work its way under her skin and get her to invite him to annual family Halloween parties. “Plus,” Killian added, twisting the handle of the sword in between his fingers. “He was super excited about it.” “What?” She should have realized it before – as soon as Henry said Killian was on his way to the apartment – but she’d been too nervous and worried and vaguely overwhelmed to put two and two together. Henry was texting Killian. Regularly.

Killian shrugged, eyes falling towards the absolutely ridiculous boots he had on. “He’s a very proficient texter,” he said softly. “I should have asked though. I can, uh, I can tell him not to anymore.” “No, no, that’s ok,” Emma answered quickly and Killian’s eyes practically flew to hers. “It’s kind of nice actually.” “Yeah?” “Well I don’t know that Henry knows another adult male other than David, so it seems like a pretty good thing.” “He doesn’t talk to…” Killian trailed off and Emma knew he wanted to run his hand through his hair. Instead he moved his left hand – hook – to the back of his neck, running the rounded metal over the skin and it was so absurd and so attractive that Emma couldn’t even bring herself to be frustrated with him for pushing.

“No,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “He doesn’t.” “Ah.” “Yeah.” And she almost told him – could hear Ruby’s voice in her head listing all the reasons she should – but Emma hadn’t done this in such a long time, hadn’t let anyone in ever and she wasn’t even entirely positive how to do it, let alone try to.

They stood there for several minutes, rocking back and forth and trying to overcome their respective embarrassment and Emma was worried they’d never actually be able to get out of the apartment, when Killian finally started talking again.

“And who are you supposed to be, Swan?” he asked, taking a step towards her – she watched his boots move across the hardwood floor, the sound echoing in her ears.

“I’m Rapunzel,” she said, lifting her head up to meet his slightly amused gaze. “For the fifth year running.” “That’s an impressive streak.” “M’s dressed up as Rapunzel’s evil mother one year and we had to match and it’s a really impressive, expensive costume, so I’ve just kind of stuck with it since then. It drives her nuts too, but that’s kind of more or an added bonus.” “That’s diabolical of you, Swan.” “Lazy also seems like a good word, but I’ll take diabolical too.” “I only met her the one time, but your sister-in-law doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of person who would want to dress up like a villain.” “She said it was ironic.” “Of course,” Killian laughed. “What is Halloween without a bit of costume-based irony?”

“Exactly,” she said, eyeing the hook. “Where did you even get a hook?”

“You’re not the only one who’s spent the last few years being forced into celebrations and repeat costumes, love.”

And that did it – that got rid of the nerves, or at least most of them, that one sentence and that one similarity and the tiny, little anxious smile on his face.

She could do this. She could trust him – at least for tonight. Because that one sentence proved what she’d been suspicious of for weeks – he understood .

“You want to go? It might be easier if we take a cab. I’d rather not go through a Subway turnstile in this dress.” Killian laughed softly, smile widening across his face as he nodded at her. “Whatever you want to do, Swan.” “Ok,” she said, feeling like that one sentence meant a lot more than what it sounded like. “Let’s go.”

She hadn’t actually told Mary Margaret and David that she was bringing Killian to the party and the nerves that had dissipated with his smile and texting Henry and that stupid costume reappeared in full force as soon as the cab pulled up to the apartment building on Wooster Street.

“You alright, love?” he asked, glancing towards her as he handed the driver the fare. Emma nodded slowly, opening her mouth to argue about paying for the fifteen-block drive, but Killian shook his head quickly, sliding out of the seat and holding out one hand for her.

Gentleman.

Jeez.

“I’m fine,” Emma promised, only lying slightly, and he looked at her skeptically as she made her way towards the door of the building. The door buzzed open nearly as soon as she pressed the button and Killian’s soft laugh behind her seemed to find its way into every single inch of her body. His hand fell on the small of her back – as it had become apt to do – while they walked down the hallway.

“You’re late,” David yelled from the other end of the hall, eyes falling on Emma immediately and then widening to almost impossibly-large size when he realized she wasn’t alone.

“Not really,” Emma argued. “Like five minutes. If even.” David’s gaze had fallen on Killian’s hand – still on Emma’s back – and she tried not to groan at the ridiculousness of it all, doing her best to ask him not to be a stupid, overprotective idiot in the middle of the hallway.

He didn’t get the message.

“I didn’t know you were bringing anyone,” David said pointedly and Killian’s hand fell away from Emma like he’d been stabbed with a plastic sword again.

“I didn’t know I had to ask permission.” “What’s going on?” Mary Margaret asked, head leaning around the doorframe with interest. She beamed when she saw Killian. “I don’t think we’ve been officially introduced,” she said, sliding past David and sticking her hand out towards the costumed storybook pirate next to Emma. “I’m Mary Margaret Nolan, I’m Emma’s sister-in-law.” “Sister for all intents and purposes,” Emma muttered, glancing up at her and smiling thankfully.

“That too,” Mary Margaret said. “It’s nice to see you again,” Killian answered, taking her hand in his. “And be officially introduced.” David coughed loudly and Emma didn’t even try to mask her eyeroll. “Killian,” she said quickly, voice filled with frustration, “this is my brother, David Nolan. David, this is Killian Jones.” “I’ve seen you on TV,” David said, extending his own hand.

“A lot of people have,” Killian answered.

“And you think that’s a good thing?” Killian's eyes darted towards Emma and she took a deep breath through her nose. “David,” she muttered, but Killian’s hand came back to rest on her back and she swallowed the bevy of vaguely sarcastic comments she had planned for her brother.

“I think it’s good for my restaurant. Exposure and all of that.” “Speaking of which,” Mary Margaret cut in. “You don’t have to be at the restaurant tonight? A holiday on the weekend, seems kind of like prime time.” “Swan asked me the same question,” Killian laughed – both Mary Margaret and David’s eyebrows practically jumping into their respective hairlines at hearing the nickname. “But, no, I don’t. My hostess and sous chef have their own annual Halloween party and they commandeer The Jolly every year to host it.” Mary Margaret nodded, smile still on her face, but David kept glancing between Emma and Killian and the one hand on her back. “Well, I’m glad you could join us,” she said, the picture-perfect hostess.

“I’m glad I could be here too.” “So, uh, we going to go inside?” Emma asked. “Or were you guys planning on holding the party out here?” Mary Margaret rolled her eyes – looking like Emma was a teenager she was passably amused by – while David crossed his arms tightly. “And who are you guys supposed to be?” “We’re Snow White and Prince Charming,” Mary Margaret answered.

“Obviously.” “There are apples inside. You know to really drive the costume-point home.” “Naturally,” Emma laughed, pushing by David to, finally, walk into the jam-packed apartment. She spotted Ruby and Dorothy in the back corner – by the punch Granny made each year, more alcohol than juice – and Emma was positive half the teaching staff at Henry’s school was also crammed into the apartment. There were at least half a dozen police officers dressed as police officers there as well as one very impressive ogre costume on a guy Emma thought David had once introduced as Anton.

Killian’s hand hadn’t left her back the entire time they walked across the living room, finding themselves in front of the punch before Emma realized she was walking that direction. “Nice outfit,” Ruby mumbled, voice jumbled just a bit as she tried to talk and drink punch at the same time. “What’s this? Five years running?” “I have literally only known you for three years.”

“There are stories about your Halloween laziness, Emma.”

“Consistency.”

“Hey, Killian,” Ruby said suddenly, voice getting louder like she’d just realized he was standing there. “Hey, Ruby,” he laughed. “What exactly are you drinking?” “Wouldn’t you like to know?” “I think I just proved that.” “It’s punch,” Emma said, shaking her head. Sober Ruby could already be difficult enough, slightly drunk Ruby was bordering on insubordinate. “Incredibly alcoholic punch that Ruby’s grandmother made.” “Your grandmother?” Killian asked, voice shaking as he tried not to laugh. “You got a problem with my grandmother?” Ruby responded and Emma silently thanked the powers that be that Dorothy was standing next to her, quickly pulling the half-drunk cup out of her hands.

“I have absolutely no problem with your grandmother. Merely professional curiosity about the consistency of her punch.” Ruby stared at him for a few moments, eyes narrowing slightly as she processed what exactly he’d said – and then she laughed, loudly enough to draw a few curious glances from costumed and legitimate police officers. “That’s right,” she said. “You’re like some kind of fancy bartender aren’t you? Emma told me all about that.” She wished the floor would swallow her and then maybe give her a bit more self confidence. Killian’s hand squeezed the back of her dress slightly – some sort of unspoken message that he wasn’t intimidated by Emma’s drunk producer. “I am like some kind of fancy bartender,” he answered. “Or I at least like to pretend to be.” “Well that’s the point of today isn’t it?” Dorothy asked. “You get to pretend to be or do whatever you want? That’s half the fun of Halloween.”

“So I’ve heard,” Killian said softly and Emma couldn’t breathe.

“Hey,” she said, turning towards him so quickly she barely kept her balance, “I’m going to go talk to my brother real quick, you going to be ok here?” “Of course, Swan. I’ve got a punch to figure out anyway.” Emma nodded once – and resisted the very real urge to do something dumb like kiss him on the cheek before she walked away.

She found David in the kitchen, a beer in his hand and look on his face. His head snapped up when he heard her shoes on the floor and he twisted his mouth, a patented look of apology without actually saying the words.

“You should probably tell Killian,” Emma said, reaching to grab the bottle out of his hand and take a sip, leaning against the counter next to him.

“Yeah, but you’re here now.” “Why were you a jerk?” “I wasn’t a jerk.” “You were one hundred percent a jerk. A week ago you were all about this and how good it could be. What happened?” “I did some work.” Emma tilted her head, lowering her eyebrows in confusion. “What? About what?” “Killian.” “Excuse me?”

David shrugged slightly and took a very long drink, placing the now-empty bottle on the counter before turning back to look at Emma. “Well you told me you didn’t know much about him and I figured I might be able to do something about that.” “You’re not making any sense.” “I ran a background check on him.” Emma blinked and then blinked again and then felt her mouth fall open. “What? Why? How?” “Those are all things I wanted to know about your guy.” “He’s not my guy,” Emma mumbled, but David chuckled darkly under his breath.

“He know that?” “Jeez, David, laying it on a little thick aren’t you? I mean come on, this is absurd. You’ve never done this before.”

“That’s because I wasn’t a detective when you were dating Neal. If I’d been able to run a background check on him then I absolutely would have. And it’s not like there’s been a ton of other guys around since then either.” Emma’s jaw snapped shut and she felt the anger shoot through her veins, hot as fire and making her practically see red – and not just on the absurd cape her brother was wearing in the middle of his kitchen.

He never talked about Neal, knew it was an off-limit topic, normally, understood Emma’s aversion to even his name. But there he was talking about Neal and Emma’s distinct lack of anything more than a few one-night stands when Henry was staying with them.

“That’s low,” she said softly.

“I know.” “Why?” “Because you didn't know anything about this guy and I could get you answers he wasn’t willing to talk about. You want to know how he lost his hand? Because I know. And I know why he left the Navy. And, probably, who that woman tattooed on his arm is. Oh, and I also know that he just put a deposit down on a warehouse in Gowanus with some real estate guy the department has investigated for fraud before.” Emma’s head was spinning.

She reached her hand forward, gripping the counter until her knuckles turned white and tried to come up with something to think about that would keep her standing upright. She trusted Killian. But she also trusted David.

And now she wasn’t sure what to think.

“If Killian wanted to tell me any of that, he would have done it already,” Emma hissed. “It doesn’t bother you that he hasn’t?” It should. And it kind of did – but not because he was guarded or secretive or whatever . But because Emma wanted to know and she couldn’t remember the last time that happened.

“You know the brother is dead,” David said and Emma’s hand slid off the counter, the corner of it scraping against her palm.

“What?” David nodded. “Yeah. In the line of duty.” “When?”

“About ten years ago.”

She tried to do the math in her head – he was thirty-five now, he’d told her that during the whatever at The Jolly – so ten years ago he’d just finished his required stint after graduating from the Academy. And then, according to David, Liam had died. And he started working at The Jolly Roger eight years ago.

He left the Navy after Liam died – no, she corrected herself quickly, because Liam died.

“Fuck,” Emma mumbled, tugging on the end of the braid she’d spent nearly twenty minutes trying to perfect earlier that night. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” “Are you having an aneurysm?” David asked. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What else did you find out? When Liam died did you see who were the other officers on the boat? Or however it works?” David looked her speculatively, eyes narrowing. “How do you know his brother’s name was Liam?” “That is so not important now.” “I think you already know the answer to your question,” David sighed. “Lieutenant Killian Jones saved twenty men on the USS Shiloh when a hurricane ravaged the Pacific corridor ten years ago. He didn’t, however, save his brother. Captain Liam Jones was reported drowned after trying to save a crewmen who was trapped above deck during the storm.” Emma squeezed her eyes shut – wondering how much punch she could drink without looking suspicious – and nodded slowly, the weight of David’s background check falling into the pit of her stomach like a 200-pound weight.

“Doesn’t explain why you were being a dick, though,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed.

“I think he should tell you things.” “I think he should get to tell me whatever he wants on his own time. That’s how friendship works.” “And that’s what this is?” Emma opened her eyes, glaring at David with enough intensity to make him take a step back.

“Yes.” “At the risk of repeating myself, does he know that?”

“Don’t be a dick to him again tonight, ok?” Emma asked, walking out of the kitchen. She didn’t meet Mary Margaret’s questioning gaze from the other side of the room – near the punch and Ruby and Killian – as she swung open the door and retreated to the silence of the now-empty hallway.

She leaned against the wall as soon as she heard the door slam shut behind her, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees.

Emma’s head still felt like it was spinning.

He hadn’t told her Liam was dead and, if Emma was being honest, she’d simply assumed Killian’s brother was still in the Navy, would maybe show up at The Jolly one night, even looked forward to maybe meeting him. And now David’s words were ringing in her ears and she felt like she might actually cry – which would have been ridiculous normally, but felt even more absurd while wearing a Rapunzel costume.

The door swung open again – the hinges in desperate need of oil or whatever you used for squeaky hinges – and Emma looked up, fully prepared for a repentant David or curious Mary Margaret in front of her. She wasn’t ready for Killian and the two glasses of punch he had in his hand.

“You kind of ran out of there, Swan,” he said, crouching down to hand her one of the glasses.

“I prefer to see it as moving with purpose.” He scoffed and put the other glass on the floor, resting his hand on the ancient carpet until he was sitting next to her, hand just a few inches away. “And what exactly was your purpose?” “Not punching David in the face.” “Because of earlier? Don’t worry about that, love. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with overprotective brothers. You did, after all, warn me he had a tendency to do that.” Emma bit her lip and stared at the opposite wall. She tugged on hair again and felt Killian’s surprised gaze land on her fingers. “Unless that’s not what it was about,” he added.

Open book.

“It wasn’t.” “Then what was it about?” “You remember I told you David is a detective?” Killian nodded. “Well he’s also apparently in the habit of abusing those privileges because he just told he ran a background check on you.” “What?” Killian’s back visibly stiffened and his head snapped towards Emma. “Why?” “Because he’s an overprotective idiot who deserved to get punched in the middle of his own Halloween party.”

“You don’t have to defend my honor, love.” “Maybe I wanted to.” His eyes flickered with something that vaguely resembled want and Emma wondered, again, what it would be like to kiss him. “What exactly did he find out?” “A lot.” “Tax dollars at work.” Emma laughed sarcastically. “I told him I didn’t want to know. You should get to tell me in your own time.” “Thank you, Swan,” he said, voice flush with the kind of sincerity that made Emma trust him in the first place.

“Don’t thank me quite yet.” “Why?” “David’s got a very big mouth.” “About?” Emma took a deep breath and bit her lip again. “Swan?” “He told me what you did,” she said, rushing over the words. “And what happened to Liam.”

Killian was on the opposite side of the hallway as soon as she said his brother’s name, hand resting on the wall and the tension so obvious between his shoulders Emma couldn’t help but wonder if it actually hurt to stand like that.

He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair before turning back around to look at Emma and if she wasn’t already sitting on the floor she may have fallen over when she saw the sheer amount of emotion in his eyes. “That’s why I don’t want them to call me captain,” he said softly, boot dragging across the carpet.

Emma nodded, not quite sure what to say. He kept talking instead. “Liam could have been an admiral, probably would have ended up there if he wasn’t so stupid and honorable and determined to save everyone. He didn’t make sense. He was too...everything. He took care of me, you know.” “Older brothers have a tendency to do that.”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Killian said, shaking his head and walking back towards Emma until the toes of his boots nearly touched her heels. “I mean he raised me. He was eight years older than me and the most goddamn responsible human being to ever walk the planet, so when my mom died, he made sure I stayed out of foster care and the system and took care of me. Got stationed in New York so we didn’t have to move.”

Emma exhaled loudly, pushing herself back up the wall and tugging her hair back over her shoulder. “You’re lucky,” she said softly.

“What?” “To have not ended up in the system. It’s not a good way to grow up.” “I don’t understand.” “You’re not curious why David and I have different last names?” “Of course I am,” he grinned at her, stepping closer again until she could practically feel him against her. “But I said I wouldn’t push.” “And I appreciate that,” Emma muttered, glancing up at him from underneath her eyelashes to find him still smiling at her. And, all things considered, she couldn’t quite figure out how she was still comfortable and willing to trust him in the middle of that hallway. Probably because he kept looking at her like that.

She took a deep breath, pressing her lips together before she dove into the deep end of depressing childhood backstories.

“I was twelve years old when David found me in Portland. I’d run away from the latest foster home they’d shipped me off to. The family said I stole the money they’d saved for vacation and, I mean, it was a total lie, but it was enough for the state to consider moving me back into the group home and I just couldn’t quite cope with that. So I ran. It was Thanksgiving weekend and it was freezing and David’s mom had brought him up to Portland to go Christmas shopping. He found me shivering in the alley behind Filene’s Basement. He brought me home. And I never really left.

Mrs. Nolan officially adopted me two years later after more red tape than I knew existed in the entire state of Maine and David stayed in-state for college because he knew I’d freak out if he left. I’ve got a bit of an abandonment complex, you see.” Killian nodded slowly, hand ghosting over the side of Emma’s hip – he pulled it away before his fingers landed on the dress, like he was nervous she’d run if he touched her. She wouldn’t have. She wished he would.

She also didn’t say any of that out loud. “I’m glad you didn’t punch him,” he said softly, words making their way into the space between her ribs, settling there with a very specific sense of contentment she hadn’t felt in a very long time – or possibly ever.

“Yeah?” “Yeah,” Killian nodded again. “He’s like some kind of hero in there. Saving the princess from the system.” “So are you,” Emma said quickly, words falling out of her mouth with ease. Killian stepped back, nearly tripping over his boots in his determination to get away from Emma and that contentment she’d felt just a few minutes before was replaced with a ball of anxiety that seemed to weigh roughly the equivalent of the entire planet.

“What?”

“I just mean, what you did. After, um, after Liam. I know about that too. You’re a hero too.” “That’s a very efficient background check.”

“David’s nothing if not efficient.”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” he said. “Not David. Me. I just did what I had to. Liam, well, Liam would have been disappointed if I hadn’t.” “He’d be proud of you.” “You don’t know that.” “I’ve got a hunch.” “That’s because you didn’t let your brother tell you the rest of the background check. There’s some not-so-ideal moments in there too.” “And you can tell me or not tell me in your own time. I’ve got my own not-so-ideal moments,” Emma said, eyes falling back to the patterned carpet and thoughts of Neal and the last time she trusted someone flashing through her mind. “But you’re a pretty unqualified success, Killian. And background check or not, I think Liam would be proud.” He was staring at her like he’d never seen anything quite like her, stepping back into her space, seemingly, out of instinct and his hand fell on her hip without a word. “It’s just a restaurant, love,” he said, voice dropping low and Emma resisted the urge to move. Her skin felt like it was on fire under his hand.

“A really good one,” she countered. “That should probably consider putting those cookies on the actual menu.” “So many compliments.” “Just facts.” “Ah, well, management will take your suggestion under consideration. Maybe they’ll think about it for the very important reservation on the books in a week and a half.”

Emma’s eyebrows dropped and she nearly pulled away from his hand, but his fingers tightened around her hip, seemingly picking up confidence as the smirk on his face grew more pronounced. “You didn’t?” Emma asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “David and M’s anniversary is in a week and a half.” “That so? She didn’t mention that when she asked about the date.” “When did you even do this? Are you texting her now, too?” “No,” Killian laughed. “But you were in the kitchen and Ruby and her girlfriend left to go talk to her apparently vaguely alcoholic grandmother and Mary Margaret took pity on my solitary self in front of the punchbowl.”

“I’m sorry I abandoned you.” “You didn’t, Swan. And Mary Margaret is a perfectly good conversationalist.” “How did you end up on the topic of reservations?”

“She mentioned the date, asked if it would be possible and I called Ari.” “You interrupted her Halloween party?” “It is my restaurant,” he laughed. “There should be some sort of rules about that.” “And you got them a reservation? A week and a half in advance for a restaurant that’s turning people away six months from now? Seems awfully convenient.” Killian beamed at her, hand squeezing slightly as the fabric of Emma’s dress bunched in between his fingers. “It is my restaurant,” he repeated. “And maybe I was looking for something out of it.” “I didn’t know you were all that interested in karma.” “I’m not.”

He dropped his hand, smirking at her and doing something absurd with his eyebrows while he dragged his fingers over his mouth. Emma waited for him to say something else, heart beating so hard in her chest she wasn’t sure how Killian couldn’t hear it in the middle of the hallway.

“Thank you for doing that,” she said. “Above and beyond the call of friendship duty.” She knew her voice had betrayed her as soon as she met his gaze, one eyebrow pulled up his forehead when she used the word friendship. “Yuh huh,” he said softly. “And that’s all your family’s happiness is worth to you? Even on their anniversary?” “Yeah, that’s what the thank you was for,” Emma shot back, ends of her mouth ticking up into a sarcastic smile.

That didn’t last long.

She could see his chest moving, the steady beat of his breathing acting like some sort of metaphorical anchor in front of her. And the smile was gone – hers and his – as Killian’s eyes fell to her lips, making Emma’s heart feel like it had actually stopped beating.

“Please,” she muttered, trying desperately to keep her voice steady. “You couldn't handle it.”

Killian’s eyes hadn't moved away from her lips and that smirk should be criminal. “Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it.”

Emma was breathing through her mouth – her chest felt like it was heaving at this point, but she couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t think of anything except how much she trusted him and wanted him and she felt her feet moving as soon as his head tilted, body moving slightly as he readjusted his weight on his feet. And then her hands reached out and her eyes widened and she heard him take a deep breath as her fingers wrapped around the collar of the leather jacket he’d worn for her and, of course, it was like this.

Of course.

He froze against her and Emma briefly wondered if she had completely misread the situation, that they were friends or something stupid like that, some dumb excuse she’d come up with so she wouldn’t kiss him – which was exactly what she was doing.

Her lips moved against his, hand moving into his hair like it belonged there and it took less than a full second for Killian to respond, his entire body pressing against hers in the middle of the hallway.

Emma hadn’t let go of the jacket – nails digging into the leather like she was trying to use it as leverage – pressing up on tiptoes to reach him easier while his hand fell away from her hip. And she almost groaned at the loss of it, but then his mouth moved against hers and his tongue flashed across her lip and his hand moved into her hair, pulling her even closer against him.

Killian’s other hand moved back around her waist, holding her up and Emma felt the hook – God there was a hook – against her back and she couldn’t breathe or think except to wonder why they hadn’t done this before.

Of course it was like this – frantic and emotional and absolutely overwhelming – which was exactly how Emma had felt since she’d walked into the network conference room and he stared at her for the entire meeting.

Killian made a noise in the back of his throat, tugging on her lip with her teeth and Emma thought maybe she’d have a chance to breathe, but then he moved back, hand falling out of her hair and back onto her hip and he kissed her again and nothing had ever been quite like this.

And, maybe, that was the problem.

Because then Emma considered that and what that meant and her mind seemed to catch up with her lips. She pulled herself away – ignoring the way it felt to not be kissing him again – and met Killian’s eyes immediately.

And he looked exactly how she felt, shoulders moving quickly as he tried to even out his breathing, the back of his hair sticking up from where Emma had run her fingers through it. He looked wrecked.

Emma felt it.

“That was…” he said, voice cracking as he rocked back onto his heels.

“A one-time thing,” Emma answered, cutting him off before she drowned in every emotion she was feeling. Killian blinked, mouth dropping open in surprise and Emma nearly kissed him again, but then her mind caught up and she retreated behind the walls and tried to ignore how disappointed he looked. “Don’t follow me. Wait like five minutes or something before you come back inside ok?”

She thought she saw him nod, but she was already halfway down the hallway before she’d really even finished doling out post-makeout instructions. Emma swung open the door to Mary Margaret and David’s apartment, plastering a smile on her face as she walked in a straight line towards the punch.

She hadn’t gone very far – couldn’t when doing that would require her to answer questions she didn’t want to – but Emma knew she’d still managed to do what she always did. She’d run.

[benevolenterrancy]

Lenimly

whoops sorry this took me a while to finish up, I had it waiting to be posted for ages but I got distracted by symmrat week...

who hogs the duvet

The problem for these two isn't so much than anyone hogs the duvet so much as the fact Lena is, apparently, completely incapable of being still even while she is fast asleep and will relentlessly kick the duvet off at approximately 2:30 every. single. morning. And Lena isn't thrilled about it to begin with, she always wakes up cold, but Emily is really not impressed with this.  Darn it Lena, she just wants to get cozy and have a solid eight hours of warm, uninterrupted sleep, dammit. If Emily wakes up in the middle of the night freezing cold though and has to climb out of bed to get the duvet, you better bet your ass that she will pettily cocoon herself in them and fall back to sleep and let Lena go get another blanket from the hall closet.

(This problem is eventually resolved (somewhat) when Emily starts keeping a second quilt folded underneath the bed within easy grabbing distance.)

who texts/rings to check how their day is going

They both text each other back and forth throughout the day, and the one who does it more really depends on what's going on in their lives at the moment.  If it's just a lazy, run-of-the-mill day and Emily's at work and Lena's bored then Lena's going to text the most.  Emily's phone is a constant hum of incoming texts and snaps and messages from Lena, just little things like jokes and selfies and stories about silly things that happened while Lena's in town, things that Emily can look at and smile at on her break.  It's fun for both of them, though Emily's coworkers will rib her about it.

However when it's Lena at work?  When she's been called off on a mission or is back at the Watchpoint or worse on the news then it's Emily texting her.  And Emily tries her best to keep the texts very casual, sort of a “ha ha just thought of you babe how you doing :) please don't be dead”. Emily figures Lena's job is hard enough without having a frantic girlfriend, and Emily knew what she was getting into when she started dating Lena (even though Overwatch had been disbanded at that point, the worst thing she was supposed to have to deal with was Lena's pigheaded, vigilant heroics, not organized, international military ops, damn it, damn it) and Emily refuses to be one of those simpering “hero girlfriends” that you see in movies.  ...Some days are just harder than others.  Lena understands though, and makes sure to respond to ever text she gets from Emily on days like that with selfies that show she's okay, and lots of love and sweetness.

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

Obviously Lena is the sort of person who puts off gift buying until literally the day of any given event, so her ability to choose good gifts (and she is fantastic at choosing good gifts, she loves finding the perfect thing for her friends and girlfriend) is slightly tempered by her inability to then get it in time.  She has absolutely, shame-faced, given IOUs as gifts, but she always delivers in the end.  (Emily is always enormously touched and more than used to her rather scatter-brained girlfriend.)

who gets up first in the morning

It's often Emily on the pure technicality that she has a job that demands she be up and at work at a reasonable hour in the morning.  Still, they're reluctant, groggy mornings with a lot of tea and as little breakfast as she can get away with while still surviving until lunch – whatever involves the least amount of effort until she wakes up properly, which usually takes about an hour.

On a weekend, when Emily doesn't have to be at work, Lena is the one who wakes up earliest naturally.  Lena is able to sleep in until approximately 9:00 AM and by then her internal clock dings and up she goes.  She's the sort of person that wakes up itching to go and do things.  As far as Emily's concerned, this is a hundred times weirder than any time displacement or talking gorillas, especially after Lena informed her that, no, this is not a side effect of the chronal accelerator, she's always been like this.  Still, Emily definitely profits on weekends because Lena likes to make a proper fry up for breakfast so Emily normally shuffles out of the bedroom to the smells of sausages and eggs and grilled tomatos and toast and...  

who suggests new things in bed

Both are pretty open to a bit of experimentation here and there.  Emily's the one that comes to Lena in the middle of the afternoon and brings up this possibility she came across and looked into and worked out the logistics for and definitely thinks could be really enjoyable for both of them, what do you think?  (Lena still can't figure out if Emily does this because she thinks it's important to talk about those things outside the bedroom when everyone's thinking clearly, or because she knows how much it ruins Lena for the rest of the day.  ...Going by the smirk, Lena's willing to bet on the latter.)

Lena, on the hand, is the one that barges in and is like “OKAY MCCREE WAS TALKING ABOUT THIS THING AND I DON'T ACTUALLY BELIEVE IT'S POSSIBLE BUT WE'VE DEFINITELY GOT TO GIVE IT A TRY”

who cries at movies

Lena.  She is a Mess.  She will cry at the drop of a hat, even over things that really she has no business crying over.  Emily is forever amused, sitting there watching some silly romcom and then having Lena very quietly bursting into tears while pretending she's not doing just that.  Like... babe... you know they're going to reconcile by the end of the movie...  and yeah, of course Lena knows that but right now it's just so sad ;-;

Plus if something even remotely sad happening in a kids movie she is done. There's something about having sweet animated characters that are made to be happy and fun and seeing them in pain that just kills Lena.  She would have been destroyed if she'd been around to see Up when it was new.

who gives unprompted massages

Emily, and Lena just completely melts every time.  The first time Emily gave Lena a massage was a couple months after they started dating.  They were lying in Emily's bed and Lena looked exhausted, so Emily nudged her onto her stomach and started giving her a message... it was supposed of a playful, teasing thing to lead into something More but holy jeez you're really tense???  Like you know the blissful relief of taking your bra off at the end of the day? Now imagine how it must feel to take off the chronal accelerator. Lena's shoulders are permanently sore because of that thing, even with the great harness she and Winston designed.  So Emily will often give Lena a massage at the end of a long day and it just about makes Lena purr every time.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick

Emily's the one who fusses and honestly it sort of throws her off because she's normally not the sort to fuss – she's pretty laid back most of the time (and honestly, if you want to date someone with Lena's sort of lifestyle, a laid back attitude is very much advisable...).  Normally it's fine – yup, she'll make sure you have a full glass a water by the bed, pick up medication on the way home from work, make some soup and toast, and that sort of stuff, but with Lena a little part of her can't help but worry more than usual.  Because... well, what if something goes wrong.  Most of the time she trusts Lena to know what she's doing with the whole time disassociation thing but when Lena gets sick... well, a part of her can't help but get hung up on the whole thing and start to worry. Even though she knows chronal disassociation has nothing to do with the sniffles she also wasn't around when Lena disappeared the first time and has no real idea what it looks like or what would happen or what she could do. So yeah, as long as Lena's sick, Emily fusses while trying to pretend to both herself and Lena that she is absolutely not fussing.

(On the other hand, when Emily is sick Lena sees her primary job as being to cheer her up and keep her company.  Which inevitably means that if Emily is sick, Lena will be as well soon after.)

who gets jealous easiest

Emily gets jealous.  Again, like “fussing” this is something she's not really used to.  She's normally pretty confident in any relationship she's in, and it's not that she isn't confident in this relationship with Lena, or that she thinks Lena would cheat (she doesn't) but sometimes when she hears about all the amazing things Lena's done, and the exceptional people she's met, Emily can help but wonder how in the world she measures up in comparison.  A part of her can't stop thinking about the girlfriends of superheroes in comics and movies (she's definitely a comic book nerd, okay) and how they're so... disposable.  They're only there when it's plot relevant and can get killed off without the slightest inconvenience and most of the time people are more interested in the other superheroes more than The Girlfriend.   She knows it's a silly fear and that Lena doesn't think that way at all – that this is real life, not a comic, and the two of them have a life together – but she can't help it all the same.  So when she sees Lena hanging around other girls that are clearly Interested, she might be a little territorial, but nothing more than just hanging around Lena or keeping a hand in hers or on her arm or something, just something to say this one is mine, back off, but she gets more nervous when she sees Lena hanging out with other old Overwatch members, people she has history with and who are equally “super”...  (It gets a little better when she starts making friends with Lena's friends and really gets to know the other Overwatch members.)

who has the most embarrassing taste in music

We've all seen Lena's punk skins, right?  Lena went through a hardcore punk phase and never quite grew out of it and her music choices reflect that.  Emily puts up with it with the best grace she possibly can.  (I imagine Emily being into chiller music, like soft background music and instrumental stuff and classical, that she just plays constantly through the apartment.)  Honestly, I'm not sure if the music Lena listens to is as embarrassing as her determination to dress appropriately every time she goes to a concert – those punk clothes definitely still make appearances from time to time.

I also think Lena has a pretty wild running playlist.  Like you know how most people end up sort of pacing themselves to the music they listen to?  You'll find yourself running faster to fast music and slowing down if a slower song comes on?  So just imagine the nonsense Lena likes to listen to when she's working out, it's like... aggressively fast tempo'd and perky.  (I can see her and Zarya having an on-going feud over who gets to pick the music while they're both in the gym, so it ends up being this weird mix of Zarya's loud, bassy Russian metal or something, and then Lena's music which, according to Zarya, sounds like hamsters on crack.)

who collects something unusual

Did you see the inside of their apartment?  That's minimalist af.  Lena's been in the RAF and then Overwatch since she was pretty young, and then has more or less been on the go since Overwatch's disbandment, so she never really acquired a taste for collecting.  If it doesn't fit into a footlocker or a backpack, what's she going to do with it, really?  Barracks only have so much space, and if she's buying something more finnicky than that, it's something to go in the communal areas or something.  I'd say the closest she comes to collecting is an impressive digital library of truly awful movies, but even then she definitely prefers digital over physical collecting because digital can be carried on the go.

As for Emily, she seems to prefer things neat and tidy and stream line so she doesn't really have any strange collections either.  She has a much more impressive wardrobe than Lena does, but again that's not really unusual.  (Unless you ask Lena, who is of the mind that you need one good, functional and comfy pair of shoes and should be good with that and can't quite wrap her head around how many Emily has. Emily can't wrap her mind around how Lena has one pair of functional shoes and they're crocs monstrosities.)

who takes the longest to get ready

Absolutely Emily.  Lena is constantly Ready To Go.  I mean... the fact that she can blink her way through her morning routine probably helps too, but still, Lena seems like the sort of person who's constantly ready to bound off from Activity A to Activity B with no transition in between.  Emily, on the other hand, needs the time to get an outfit together, put on her make-up, fix her hair...  Lena has spent a lot of time loafing around their living room moaning theatrically while Emily reminds her girlfriend exactly how much she likes the results of all Emily's hard work, thank you very much. (You can't enthusiastically mess up make-up with kissing and cuddling unless it was put on first.)

who is the most tidy and organised

Emily wins that one.  Lena's probably pretty good, again just from ingrained military habit, but now that she's been out on her own for a number of years and has her own space those old habits have begun to backslide a bit.  Especially since Lena tends to be trying to do a dozen things at once and has a tendency to forget little things like putting her dishes away or cleaning up that project before starting another or taking off her muddy shoes before blinking through the apartment.

Emily is the one who likes to keep the apartment spick and span.

who gets most excited about the holidays

Lena is so fucking here for the holidays.  Themed parties!  Gift giving!  Television specials! Costumes!  Cheer!  Not to say Emily doesn't also love the holidays, she really really does, Lena just tends to show her enthusiasm in a similar way to your average six-year-old.

Emily's enthusiasm tends towards the slightly calmer variety but it's definitely still there – she's the one who suggests they walk in the snow to look at Christmas lights and who makes them hot chocolate with marshmellows and who is, yes, even willing to wear a matching elf outfit with Lena to the Overwatch Christmas party because she loves her nerdy girlfriend.

who is the big spoon/little spoon

Lena's tiny, she's like 5'4” or something, so Emily gets to be the big spoon more often than not. Even when they're not in bed, Emily loves to come up behind Lena and tuck Lena's head under her chin and just enjoy the pleasure of cuddling her short girlfriend.  And Lena is definitely not arguing! You don't know pure bliss until you're lying around on the couch and your girlfriend comes home from work and wiggles herself behind you just so that you can lie curled up in her arms.  Plus, both of these girls are from England, land of perpetual rain, so they both enjoy cuddling and sharing some body heat and cold, wet days.

Lena will shamelessly go big spoon though if she's trying to keep Emily in bed; she'll wrap herself to Emily like a monkey and cling until both her and Emily end up tumbling out of the bed onto the floor.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

...Take a guess.  Lena has literally no chill when it comes to anything that even whiffs of competition. Sports, video games, board games, Lena is going for the gold.  

who starts the most arguments

I honestly hate this question a little because like... as a general rule it's gonna take two people to argue, and even if one “starts” the argument it's probably because there was something being done that needs to be addressed. Either way, I think Emily “starts” the most arguments simply because I can see Lena as someone who tries to avoid those sorts of confrontations.  She'd much rather ignore an issue and try to dance around it.  Emily's the one who finally forces them both to acknowledge issues there might be, and it might explode into a fight but as a general rule it's ultimately for the best because it actually ends with them having a discussion about whatever the issue is and resolving it.

who suggests that they buy a pet

Emily brings it up, actually.  She'd like a companion in the apartment, someone to welcome them home, to cuddle with, to keep Lena company while Emily's at work and keep Emily sane while Lena's off risking life and limb.  Plus it sort of... feels like a good next step for them.  To have a life to take care of, together.  They haven't committed yet, because both of them are serious about it and with Overwatch just starting up again it seems a unstable, but they're definitely talking about it and looking at breeds and adoption centres and stuff.  (There's also the little fact that Lena wants a dog and Emily wants a cat.  Don't worry, they'll figure something out.)

what tv shows they watch together

They're the sort to have one intense, dramatic show on the go.  What the 2070's equivalent of Game of Thrones or Breaking Bad or whatever is.  They lose their shit over each new episode release, they laugh, they cry, on occasion one or both may scream and leave the room.  You don't mess with Their Show. Lena has definitely woken Emily up in the middle of the night because she just had this amazing idea and what if this is the next big plot twist??? and Emily can't even be mad because that is literally genius and do you think the creators are that smart and now it's one in the morning and they're both scouring the internet to see if anyone else has had that theory yet.  On the other hand, they also keep pretty sporadic schedules so it's not unusual for Lena to get a string of texts like

lenalenadarlingyou know I love youbut if you don't stop saving the day and come home soon so help me god i am WATCHING this next episode because it came out yesterday and I NEED to know what happens to Alex

followed by Lena's: don't you DARE

what other couple they hang out with

I am 100%  fan of Lena casually introducing Emily to all of her Overwatch buddies and Emily being Very Chill about meeting all these weird, quirky heroes, so I suppose they'd hang out with any of the ships you have there.  I absolutely love the idea of those two going on double dates with Genji and Zenyatta or Fareeha and Angela.

how they spend time together as a couple

In a weird way one of the things I can see them doing together is exercising?  Which is a little hilarious because obviously there's Lena who is the embodiment of that one spongebob quote “wanna see me run to that mountain and back? ...wanna see me do it again?” or like... when Captain America keeps lapping Sam.  Still, I can see Lena slowing her pace down and jogging along side Emily when she goes out for a run, or joining her in the gym when she's working on upper body stuff and things like that. Obviously Emily's just doing it to stay fit, this isn't like the sort of workouts Lena did when she was still with Overwatch and trying to stay military fit, but Lena still likes going to keep in practice. After all, you never know...

(Also then imagine, post-Recall, Lena invites Emily to come work out in the Overwatch gym with her because they have great facilities that Emily will love. So there's like... Lena there running like sonic the fucking hedgehog, then Zarya in a corner lifting a million pounds like it's nothing, and maybe Winston's finally been talked into working out a bit by Athena so he's there with all his gorilla strength, you could have Genji and/or Hanzo, trained ninja assassins from birth, or Fareeha who's built like a brick wall, and then, in the middle of it all, Emily with her headphones in, exercise music on, resolutely working out with a jump rope and enjoying every minute of it.)

But I mean besides that they do... normal couple things together?  They share an apartment so a lot of it is just normal every day life things.  Sharing chores and cooking, sleeping together and cuddling on the couch, fighting over the tv and going shopping.  They probably go out on dates a whole bunch, like they try to have a weekly date night sort of thing.  Sometimes it's just staying home with chinese food and a movie, but they'll also go out to restaurants or to the theatres or try some sort of couples activity, that sort of thing.

who made the first move

My favourite headcanon was that it was... kind of both of them?  I can see Lena being a bit of playful flirt when she's at the pub, so she was talking up this one really pretty red head who seemed sweet and funny and really smart.  Things are going great, only for Lena to realize a bit belatedly that this girl has no idea who she is. And it kind of throws Lena off a bit.  She's very used to being Tracer From Overwatch, very recognizable ...and let's be honest being a bit of a hero definitely helps when it comes to picking up cute girls.  But... well, Overwatch isn't the hero anymore, is it?  Saying you're a disgraced member of a corrupt military organization that was forcefully disbanded by the UN is... not really a good ice breaker. And suddenly Lena's having all these doubts and Emily's not really sure what's up with the girl that started flirting with her – is she getting cold feet? did Emily say something wrong? – but so far she's really likes this girl and would like to see her again so Emily pushes through Lena's sudden hesitation and secures a date for them.

It takes a little while before Lena admits to being Tracer (and Emily just kinda stares out into space like... wow I'm a fucking idiot I saw you on posters... though to be fair you don't really expect to see someone like that in your local pub).

So Lena was the one who made the very first move, but it was thanks to Emily that more came of it.

who brings flowers home

Both of them!  For birthdays or anniversaries or just “hey it's a beautiful spring day and I was thinking of you” gifts, each will randomly bring home bouquets to put in the kitchen or on the window sills.  They tried to do live flowers once (Emily thought it'd be great to try to grow a little herb garden in the kitchen window) but they both quickly learn that they suck at keeping plants alive.  Lena has a tendency to remember them rather sporadically (well I remembered in my timeline, is her go to excuse but they both know she just completely forgot) and will let them go dry for days then drown them in a desperate attempt to overcompensate, and Emily works weird hours all over the place and has as tendency to just want to crash and go to sleep when she gets home so yeah.  Live plants aren't ideal.  Emily's been talking about them getting some little succulents though on the grounds that even they shouldn't be able to kill those, but Lena is a little reluctant because she knows if Jesse comes over and sees them with a cactus he will never let Lena hear the end of it.

who is the best cook

Emily... though honestly I imagine both of them turn to takeout more often than either would like to admit. As far as cooking goes, Lena's specialty tends to lean a bit more towards the chocolate-covered or slathered-in-oil variety foods (she is a very big fan of pub food) and while it's tasty Emily continues to insist it's not sustainable.  (“Psssh” responds Tracer,, “hasn't killed me yet, right?”).  Emily is much better at cooking meals that involve actual vegetables but she also hates cooking with a fiery passion.  When they do cook, it's often either easy things like fried vegetables on rice or Emily's speciality: a huge vat of soup that can then be stored and brought out later for like a month's worth of lunches.

Lena, however, absolutely does breakfast.  She does the best breakfasts.