#and in that moment i swear we were related to graham
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bfiaflbox · 1 year ago
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- Endanovember -
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Pairing: Matty Healy x female reader
warnings: swearing, smoking, shitty writing
Disclaimer: this is a one shot at the moment. It's kinda Christmas themed, completely unrelated to anything else. I just sat down and typed this out so no proofreading here.
The title is from that graham Norton interview where Matty forgets where the album comes out and Ross reminds him that it was "Endanovember". Bon Appetit.
I wrote a second part to this, but I don't like it yet, so let me know if you're even interested in a second part :)
Endanovember 2022
„Are you ok?“ he asks, kind of timid. We‘re sat in a tiny coffee shop just around the corner from where he lives.
„Yeah…“ I struggle to put my feelings into words „I guess I just feel a bit melancholic“
„About what?“
„Christmas? I don’t know. I love the lights and the vibes and the idea but the reality always disappoints.“, I let out a sigh. After Matty doesn’t say anything I continue. „We were discussing Christmas plans in the family group chat and… my brother is spending it at his in-laws, my mom is going on some yoga retreat or whatever and I haven’t spoken to my dad in three years, so I‘m just kind of… here I guess? I don’t know, I feel a bit left behind“ fuck, putting it into words makes it feel real and hurt even more. It’s triggering some deeply rooted insecurity, the feeling of not being loved. Tears prick at my eyes but I’m determined to not let them fall. Proper date that would be, him taking time out of his busy day just to sit here with his … what, situationship? Friend with benefits? to cry about her disfunctional family.
He reaches out and takes my hand, his thumb drawing circles on the back of my hand. He doesn’t say anything at first. He seems to be lost in thought for a bit then says: „You could come home with me.“
„Are you inviting me for afternoon sex? Because I’m not averse to that idea“ I joke
„Nooo, I mean yes, but I was talking about Christmas. Come home with me to spend Christmas with me and my family.“
„What? Don’t you think that’s a bit much to bring your current fling to the family Christmas celebrations?“
„Fling??“ he looks at me kind of confused and hurt. He lets go of my hand.
„… I mean, yeah??“ now I’m not sure anymore. To be fair we haven’t talked about what this thing between us is. To say I liked him would be the understatement of the century but I definitely wasn’t his girlfriend. I met his mates and we spend as much time together as our schedules will allow but he’s a busy man, probably not just with music-related things. I never allowed myself to hope that this was an exclusive thing.
„No! What? Do you think that‘s what this is?? That‘s bullshit!“
I get the feeling I just fucked this up royally.
„I just…“
„Have you been seeing other guys?“ he interrupts me.
„No! I just thought that we haven’t talked about what this is and…“ I’m lost for words.
„Nine months! We see each other every chance we get, we speak every day, you know all my mates, I take you to every event as my plus one, I tell everybody you’re my girlfriend and you think this is just a fling??“
„I don’t know? there hasn’t been a single conversation about this!!“ I’m annoyed that he’s getting mad at me.
„I need a smoke“ he gets up, grabs his coat and leaves.
What the fuck just happened?? I stay seated for a few moments, then decide to go home, too. Fucking asshole, leaving me here like this.
I put on my coat and step outside into the cold late November air. Matty is pacing on the sidewalk in front of the cafe, cigarette in hand, looking upset. Apparently, he did not leave, he did indeed just need a smoke. I kind of feel guilty for doing him wrong like that, even if it was just in my head.
When he sees me, he stops for a second, looks at me and goes „Ok you know what? You’re right, we haven’t talked about this. Let’s talk about this.“
„Can we maybe not do that on the sidewalk?“
„Fine. Let’s go to my place."
He grabs my hand and starts walking. I want to yell three or four different things at him at the same time. I want to ask him where he finds the audacity to be mad at me, why the fuck are his hands this wonderfully warm when it’s freezing cold outside and also I want to beg him to let us fix this because it’s a good thing, whatever it is. But I stay quiet, walking beside him, down the street to his place.
Once we’re inside, I blurt out „I really don’t get why you‘re mad at me because…“ I don’t get to finish my sentence because Matty has pushed me against the wall of his hallway and is kissing me like a starved man. My anger is wiped away instantly and I want nothing else but to feel his lips on my lips, forever. Still, my hands find their way into his lovely soft curls. I make a fist and tug at the strands they grab, admittedly in an attempt to hurt him a tiny little bit.
He groans, breaks away and rasps „Kindly, shut the fuck up, I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at myself for not making it clear enough to you that I fucking love you“ Excuse me, what?
„Excuse me what?“
He huffs out a laugh „Yeah you heard me“
I‘m glad I have the wall for support because right now I’m not sure I would be able to hold my balance. I kind of want to ask him if he‘s taking the piss but think better of it. All I do is look at him while trying to process what just happened.
„Darling, you‘re the kindest, funniest, most compassionate person. You feel so true and reliable and safe. I know I'm not the easiest person to be with but I can leave some of the heavy things behind when I'm with you. And you’re so. Fucking. Sexy“ he kisses me again and I get it. I get it because I feel the same way. Being with Matty feels like coming home to a good place where someone actually gives a fuck. Yes, we are having a great time whenever we hang out, I just thought he didn’t feel remotely the same. But he‘s here, I‘m not making this up, this is actually happening.
„Could’ve said something earlier, Idiot“ I whisper as we break the kiss for air.
„I should have, shouldn’t I?“
I nod. „That would’ve been clever“
„Yeah“ he agrees.
„Yeah because... turns out I love you too and we could’ve had this all along“
„You could’ve said something, too, you know?“ he lets out a soft laugh
„And what, completely humiliate myself?“
„Hey, no kink shaming“
We both burst out laughing and I playfully swat at his chest. Matty hugs me in return and I feel like I'm finally home.
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morganaspendragonss · 3 years ago
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i saw you were accepting prompts - could you possibly do one with thirteen and the fam where one of them gets kidnapped and the rest have to get whoever it is back?
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holly's august extravaganza day 15: find you here inside the dark
thank you for the prompt!
@badthingshappenbingo prompt: blindfolded
ao3 | 1.5k | kidnapping, psychological torture, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, set vaguely during s12
Yaz has been thinking.
There’s not much else to do, really, wherever she is; the room she’s being kept in is windowless and featureless, and the only interesting parts of her day are when the visor she’s being forced to wear darkens, effectively blindfolding her. She’s not really sure what happens during those times, except that someone—presumably one of her captors—joins her, stays in silence, then, after an unidentified amount of time, leaves.
Though, to be honest, all her time here is unidentified. Yaz has no idea how she’s supposed to track the days; she’s pretty sure she’s not on Earth, so there’s no guarantee that days are days anyway. She tracks the passage of time through the periodic meals she receives, but as those are pretty much all the same, there’s no way to tell what equates to morning, noon, and evening.
She tried, at first, but it became too confusing too quickly. So, instead, she thinks.
First it was about ways of getting out of here. Yaz is nothing if not proactive and, while she trusts the Doctor to save her, she’s always liked figuring things out for herself. Especially when said things are Doctor-related, because it feels like she’s proving herself, or something. Like she’s showing the Doctor that she’s worth it, that she can handle all the running and fighting and general chaos that follows them wherever they go.
Like she is capable of staying by her side forever.
But Yaz has walked this room too many times to count now; she’s traced her fingertips over the walls, searching for any cracks or crevices to indicate where there might be a door. There is none, apparently, and Yaz has to concede that their technology is beyond her.
If the Doctor were here, she’d have her sonic out by now, spitting out words, only half of which Yaz could understand. She’d find a way out in no time.
Or, if not, at least she’d be here. Talking a mile a minute, probably annoying the hell out of their captors. Yaz can almost hear her now—
Wait.
She can hear her now.
It’s faint and distorted, but unmistakably the Doctor, and Yaz feels hope flash through her. If the Doctor is here, then maybe… Maybe she’s going to get out of here.
It’s not that it’s been bad here, per se, but Yaz hasn’t spoken to another person in so long that she’s starting to go a little out of her mind. Whatever thing has her, it’s not chatty; the only reason Yaz knows there’s actually someone else around somewhere is that she’s heard its heavy breathing whenever it comes into the room.
The Doctor’s voice gets louder and Yaz jumps to her feet, spinning in a circle to try and pinpoint where it’s coming from.
“Doctor!” she cries. “Doctor, it’s me, I’m here!”
The sounds pause for a moment, then suddenly resume at Yaz’s back. She turns and runs to the wall, pressing her ear against it to try and hear something—anything—but just like that, it’s gone.
For the first time since she’s been here, Yaz feels tears building in her eyes. She’s been so certain, for so long, that the Doctor is coming for her, and now she knows; the Doctor was here, feet away, and now she’s—
“Yaz?”
She’s behind her; she has to be. Yaz spins, grinning, arms out to drag the Doctor into a hug—but she’s not there. She frowns, but she doesn’t have time to process it before her name is called from another corner of the room, so clear that it feels like it’s right in the room with her.
But Yaz is alone, still, except for the voice that bounces from wall to wall, surrounding her and sending her dizzy from trying to follow it. She can’t see for tears as she realises—it’s all a trick. For what purpose, Yaz doesn’t know, but she doesn’t care to figure it out either.
The Doctor isn’t here. She never was.
And then, as if to torture her further, the visor darkens, and Yaz is blind.
*
She lives in darkness from then on. Unlike every other time, it doesn’t clear, not even when she’s brought meals, so Yaz just sits pressed into a corner, entirely alone.
And she thinks.
She knew, back when they started travelling with the Doctor, that there would be danger. That she’d probably fear for her life, maybe even get hurt along the way. They’d all accepted the risk, but Yaz—Yaz hadn’t even had to think about it. Maybe it’s because of her job, but the thought of danger hadn’t phased her for even a second; it had exhilarated her.
All her life, Yaz has wanted to do something. She’s always needed that adrenaline rush, that thrill, and she hadn’t found it sitting in her police car breaking up minor disputes. Then the Doctor appeared and handed it to her on a platter, and who was Yaz to turn that down? Travelling with the Doctor has been everything; there’s nowhere Yaz would rather be than with her.
But Ryan has been saying, lately, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can do this. He wants to leave, Yaz can tell, even if he hasn’t said it directly.
“Where does it end, Yaz?” he’d said to her once. “How many times have we almost died already? We can’t get lucky forever.”
“I trust the Doctor,” Yaz had replied. “She’s always kept us safe, and she always will.”
She doesn’t think Ryan believed her, but Yaz has never been more certain of anything in her life. Except… Except, now, she’s starting to wonder. Yaz doesn’t know how long ago she was taken, but she’s fairly certain it’s been too long. Hours, days, weeks spent holding onto the knowledge that the Doctor would come for her; most people probably would have given up by now, but the thought never even entered Yaz’s head.
The Doctor would come; it was never a question.
Except she hasn’t, and Yaz is alone in the dark, and she’s losing faith.
*
Yaz loves the Doctor’s voice. She loves to listen to her talk, loves the way her eyes light up at anything new, loves the sheer emotion she pours into every single word.
Now, though, she’d give anything to get her to stop.
It’s been like this since the first time; Yaz will hear the Doctor’s voice calling for her, promising her that she’s coming, that she’ll be free soon, and it will be so clear that Yaz could swear she’s right in front of her. But she’ll reach out and feel nothing, and no-one, and disappointment will flood her all over again.
She should be used to it by now; she should expect it, even. But every time, there’s hope. And every time, it’s crushed.
So, the next time it starts, Yaz assumes it will be no different.
“Yaz,” the Doctor, or whatever’s mimicking her says. “Yaz, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here; we all are, just hang on.”
It’s the same as always. Yaz presses herself further into her corner and buries her head in her arms—not that it makes any difference. “No,” she whispers. “Stop it.”
“Yaz, it’s me!”
“Yaz!” Ryan—that’s a new one. Yaz doesn’t let it get to her though; this just means they’re getting more creative now. She doesn’t budge, not even at the slight shuffle off feet along the floor. Everything they’ve done to her has felt realistic, so why shouldn’t the same go for this now?
Something steps close to her, fabric rustling gently, and Yaz could swear she feels hot breath on the top of her head. She tenses to keep herself from moving; this means nothing.
Don’t hope don’t hope don’t hope.
“Oh,” she hears, then there’s a high pitched whirring in her ear—a sound so familiar she could cry, but she won’t, she refuses.
“Yaz, you can look now,” the Doctor says gently. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”
The hands on her face tell Yaz she has no choice in the matter, and she puts up little resistance as her head is slowly raised. She doesn’t know what’s going on, and she has no time to work it out before she realises she can see, and—
“Oh my god,” Yaz sobs, all but collapsing into the Doctor’s arms. She grips the back of her coat tightly and presses her face into her chest, relishing in her warmth, in the heartbeats echoing rhythmically in Yaz’s ears. “You’re here, you’re actually here.”
The Doctor hugs her tightly, running her hands through Yaz’s hair. “I’m sorry I took so long.”
Yaz pulls back, though only slightly, only enough so she can look the Doctor full in the face. She brings her hands up to her face and strokes her thumbs over her cheekbones, taking her in like she hasn’t been able to do in so long. She’s vaguely aware of Graham and Ryan standing behind the Doctor, but she barely pays them any notice, too focused on the Doctor. “I thought—”
“I know,” the Doctor shushes, smiling sadly. “I know. I swear to you though, Yaz, I’ll always come back for you. I’ll never leave you. I promise.”
And Yaz believes her.
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Becoming A Stark (5)- Peter Parker X Stark! FemReader
Word Count: 2717
Author’s Note: Last Chapter before Peter is introduced to the story! Let me know what you think or if you want to be tagged.
Warnings: Mention of injuries and hospitalizations, swearing
Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Masterlist
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It took a few weeks to get used to living in the tower and you wouldn’t say you and Tony were close, but the other Avengers were helping make things normal for you. The one thing you weren’t getting used to was having FRIDAY now yelling out your blood sugars instead of JARVIS due to the whole Ultron thing. Pepper threatened to take you from Tony for that one, but that fight is a story for another time. It was the angriest you’ve seen Pepper ever get and hopefully, you don’t have to see that again any time soon.
“Y/N is 63 and dropping. Predicted urgent low in 20 minutes.” FRIDAY’s voice comes over the speaker as Natasha, Steve, Clint, and you are watching Once Upon A Time In Hollywood.
“FRIDAY, I got it.” You push up from the couch to walk to the kitchen, but watch the walls shift ever so slightly as you try to walk. 
“You stay, I’ll get you something. What do you want? Juice? Cookies? Soda?” Steve stands from his seat at the end of the sofa.
“Juice.” You say. If you didn’t have hypo-unawareness, you would have felt this before you got so low, but you had bolused for all that good pasta Steve had made and must have made an opps when bolusing for it. Steve returns after a few moments with an apple juice box as well as a packet of graham crackers. You look at them puzzled, but take them with shaking hands.
“FRIDAY said urgent low in 20 minutes. That sounds like it needs more than just a juice box.” You don’t say anything but shrug your shoulders as you try to get the stupid straw into the juice box as your hands continue to shake. 
“I got it.” Clint says as he pulls the juice box out of your hands. With a quick stab, the straw is in the box and he hands it back to you. “Perfect aim over here.”
“Whatever you say.” You mumble before sipping on your juice. To be honest, apple juice just hits differently when you’re low. You turn your attention back to the movie as you sip on the juice, but you don’t want to eat. You’re full from the pasta you ate not even an hour ago. So as the movie keeps playing, your eyes stop focusing on it, everything gets a bit blurrier. You rest your head on Natasha’s shoulder, hoping everything will clear up as you drink your juice. 
“Y/N? I think you should eat these,” Steve’s voice sounds so far away.
“I don’t want to.” You mumble, turning more into Natasha’s shoulder, feeling sleep pull you in.
“Y/N?” Natasha, Steve, and Clint have stopped watching the movie at this point since you stopped responding. “FRIDAY what’s her sugars?”
“LOW Captain.”
“Call Tony.” Tony is at an SI meeting, but if he doesn’t hear about this, he will call any and all Iron Man Marks he has to fight them all. Reaching into the drawer in the table, Steve pulls out a blood sugar testing kit. Tony has stocked the house with them so that you are never more than a few feet away from them. Once you moved in, Tony also made sure that all the Avengers knew how to test your blood sugar manually. “Y/N I’m going to test you ok?” Steve asks, betting he won’t get a reply. Before he can, you start shaking and pulling away from Natasha. 
“Steve, I think she’s having a seizure.” Clint says as Natasha and him roll you to your side, laying you flat on the couch. Steve helps to steady you, before testing your sugars. 
“What is going on?” Tony’s voice comes over the speakers, knowing for any of them to interrupt him, it has to be important- meaning Avengers related or you related. 
“Y/N is low. Very low.”
“How low?” The meter in Steve’s hand beeps.
“16.”
“16?”
“She’s having another seizure.” Clint says.
“Are we sure it’s another? It might be the same one?” Natasha asks and regrets it.
“Another?” In the background they can hear thrusters and they know that Iron Man/ your dad will be here soon. “You need her glucagon. There should be one in the living room, her bedroom, her backpack, and the med bay. It’s a red square, or well rectangle.” Out of the corner of her eye Natasha sees Tony land on the balcony and walk towards the living room. “Do you have it?”
“This?” Steve holds up the box. Tony takes it from his hand.
“Turn her to her side.” Tony says as he pulls the needle and pushes all the liquid into the vial. He stirs it together before drawing all of the liquid back into the syringe. “I got you bambina.” He whispers as he plunges the needle into your thigh.
Time passes slowly. Tony keeps checking and the number goes up slowly. 25. 40. 55. They had moved you to the med bay and Dr. Cho had checked over you, gave you some IV fluids and oxygen, but said that apart from rest and monitoring your blood sugar, there’s not much she can do. She did administer a bit more glucose through your IV since you haven’t come above 70 yet. You’ve been in and out of consciousness so Tony doesn’t expect you to remember anything of what you’ve said previously, especially since most of it made little sense.
“Where ‘m I?” you mumble as Tony does another blood sugar check.
“Med bay.” 92. Finally a good number.
“What happened?”
“You scared the shit out of me. I get what’s a good number now.” You look at him with confused eyes.
“What happened?” you repeat.
“You dropped to 16. Had a seizure or two. Passed out. Been here for a few hours. You’re finally in range again kiddo.”
“16? New record low.” you say.
Tony ignores that comment. “Might have taken a few years off my heart.” Tony admits.
“Thought you were supposed to be gone all weekend,” you say, not commenting on what he said. You mess with the knitted blanket that is covering your legs, not looking at Tony as the words sit in the air.
“My kid was in danger, SI can handle themselves. Promised you I’d be here from now on remember?” Tony says with a shrug. You look up at him, hearing the words he said. You were starting to think of him as more than just Tony over the past weeks when he had to go deal with Iron Man stuff. But tonight he left stuff for you. Because your blood sugar tanked. That’s like something Nana and Pops used to do for you. It’s something family does for each other. 
“Is Pepper mad that you left?” You fidget with the IV in your arm. It’s not the first time you’ve had one and it probably won’t be the last time.
“How can I be mad at him when I left moments after him?” Pepper peeks into the room.
“But you’re the CEO?” Pepper walks from the door towards your bed.
“You’re more important. My assistant is taking care of everything that he can and everything he can’t will get postponed until later. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to focus until I saw you were ok.”
“Is it just because I’m the heir to SI?” You can’t help but voice the dark thought in your mind.
“Of course not.” Pepper says as she sits on the edge of your bed, taking your IV-less hand in hers. “I happen to care about you an awful lot. It doesn’t matter to me one bit that you’re supposed to take SI or not. I would be here.” Tony moves to sit on the opposite side from where Pepper sits.
“I know the circumstances of how everything happened wasn’t the best Y/N, but I love you a lot. And I would drop anything and everything for you.”
“Really?”
“I’m your dad. A dad does anything for his kid.” Tony wants to reach out and take your hand like Pepper did, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed to, he doesn’t want to push too far too fast. But you reach for him instead.
“I’m not good at having a dad. At having parents.” You say honestly looking at both Tony and Pepper as you say this, hoping she doesn’t mind that you’re including her in this statement. “I had Nana and Pops sure. But that’s different.”
“I’m not the best at having a kid either, but I’m going to try my very best at it.” Tony admits. “How about we try this thing together?” He asks. “As a family?” He tacks on looking towards Pepper too.
“I’d like that.” You admit. “But only if Pepper stays to keep you reigned in. Because I can’t handle you on your own.” Tony laughs at that.
“Pepper’s here to stay if I have my way.” He says. “You and Pep. You're my family. Well and Platypus. And the Avengers. Only because they wrestled their way in.”
“I think I can settle for that right now.” You admit. “At least the you and Pepper part.”
“Still figuring out the lay of the land with the Avengers?” Tony asks.
“You jump from having almost no family to being told that you can have all of the superheroes in the world as your family and see how you do.” You roll your eyes.
Pepper squeezes your hand. “Take whatever family you feel is right. We’ll all be by your side when you need it the most.” All three of you sit there quietly for a few minutes before you realize something.
“No!” 
“What?” Tony’s eyes are searching the room for a threat he can’t find.
“I missed the end of the movie!” Your voice comes out closer to a whine then you mean for it to. Tony’s hand rises to his heart trying to calm it back down.
“You were all watching a DVD. You can rewatch it later. Please give me 24 hours before you scare me again please. My heart can only take so many scares in one day.”
“You’ve got some visitors if you’re feeling up to it?” A voice comes from the doorway. You look up and see Steve, Clint, and Natasha looking in towards you.
“Sorry I ruined movie night.”
“If you think we’re here to make you apologize, you’re dead wrong.” Clint says.
“I think Clint is here to see your eyes do work without rolling into the back of your head.” Natasha throws out as she sits in the chair across from your bed.
“I thought you would think that was cool?” You ask, seeing as Clint is usually the one looking for things that are creepy but over the top.
“Not when it comes to someone’s kid. I got kids of my own. I never want to see that from you again kid. You got it?” Clint crosses his arms as he stands behind Natasha. “That was the scariest moment of babysitting I’ve ever had, and I’ve lived through two kids going through their toddler phases.”
“As long as I get the award…” 
“Don’t even try.” Tony cuts you off. “I second Clint’s statement. Seeing your eyes go into the back of your head was not something I ever want to see again either so lets make that a thing on the ground rules of not allowed.”
“To be fair, I’m the one who’s food she gave insulin for-” Steve starts and you stop him before the words are even out.
“Don’t try to blame yourself. It’s very Captain America and all. But I can literally give the same bolus for the same food two days in a row and get two very different results. Diabetes just doesn’t give a shit. It does what it wants. So if you want to blame someone, blame my pancreas for being a shit team player and quitting back twelve years ago. The whole point of having Wallace is to try and catch this before it happens, but sometimes it still happens. It’s shit but that’s life.” You explain, and everyone’s eyes fall on you. 
“How are you so calm about all of this?” Clint asks.
“Because it’s not the first time I’ve ended up in a hospital bed due to diabetes. And it’s not the first time it’s tried to kill me. Being diabetic, you come to terms that you’re playing with fire and you’re going to get burned. But as long as you don’t die, then the day is a success. Sometimes there may be more losses than wins, but you keep going. It’s something you come to terms with when you have a disease that isn’t going away because there’s no cure. You’re forced to come to terms with it.”
“Can I ask how many times you’ve been hospitalized because of it?” Natasha asks, looking up at you with a deep expression.
“Counting this? Uh….” You count in your head. “Let’s see. There was my diagnosis. I was this close,” You hold your fingers inches apart, “from falling into a coma from my sugars being too high. Then I got the stomach flu when I was six. Nothing would stay down, but my ketones went sky high. Next I got an infected pump site. Normally I would just take some Advil and hope it goes away but this one got bad. Was in the hospital for three days, on antibiotic drips. Then I spent my seventh birthday in the ICU with the flu. That was a blast. Ketones out the wazzoo. I just had no immune system. Then I got strep five times and had to get my tonsils out, but they were worried about infections and ketones and such, so they kept me in the hospital for a week. Eight and nine I lucked out and was only in the hospital once, for a really wonky pump site that shot me into the 900s. Luckily I was only in the ER for that one. Ten through thirteen, I was in the hospital every like six months it felt like with bad blood sugars. Fell into a coma twice. And it took like three weeks to come out of it. So that was a total blast. Missed a lot of school. And this year I have lucked out and only been in the hospital once besides this. Stomach flu, tried to get me again. On day two of nothing staying down, Nana took me to the ER. So… Thirteen? Oh wait, fourteen counting today. Wait does today count? I guess it does since I got an IV.”
“The medbay is like Tony’s private hospital so it’s essentially a hospital so it counts.” Natasha says with a nod.
“Ok, so fourteen times because of diabetes related stuff. But I also had three other non-diabetes times too.” All eyes are on you. You should have just skipped it, because now you’ll just have to explain it. “I broke my arm in first grade because a kid bet me I couldn’t walk across the top of the monkey bars. I made it all the way across but then slipped and fell at the end. Still he had to give me his GI Joe, so who’s the real winner? The incident in fifth grade. And then took a bet that I wouldn’t walk across the Brooklyn Bridge barefoot. Stepped on a nail. Had to get stitches.” You shrug.
“Hmmm, funny she sounds just like someone else who is stupid enough to take dares or I don’t know invite war criminals to their front door.” Pepper says looking at Tony.
“To be fair, you can’t blame that on me, because I was never there to tell her that taking bets is never the right way to go unless you know you’re going to win them.” Tony says with a smile. 
“Technically, I won both bets. I got injured after both were over.” You brag.
“That’s my girl.” Pepper rolls her eyes.
“Why do I feel like I’m going to be chasing more trouble now?”
“I’ll keep an eye on her.” Natasha says from across the room with a smile.
Becoming A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway�� @iamaunicorn4704  @furiouspockettoad  @daughter-of-stark  @eternalharry  @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff
Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick
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A study in Sherlock Holmes (s1e2)
Ok, i struggled a bit with this one, some f these points are repetitive and sorry for any mistakes I'm half asleep and its not even 8pm lol, if you have anything to add, discuss or straight up contrast then feel free to in the comments (as long as you're going to be nice about it) :))
The key thing I noticed in this episode, now this may be a complete reach, when Sherlock is trying to get John to remember those letters on the wall that were painted over, he does it the complicated route and doesn't listen to John. I find that this linked slightly to the last episode when Euros says that he doesn't see when there's nothing to see through. He looks for complicated solutions and never takes a moment to look at the whole picture (literally the the picture lol) in the simple way. 
Something we are also told is that Sherlock wasn't very popular at Uni, hated actually. Though when Sebastian asks him for help in that email, he acts nice and like Sherlock is his friend (”how are things, buddy”). I feel like this kind of shows how people take advantage of him. 
Something that always bothered me, and many other people, was when John corrected him and called him a "colleague" instead of "friend". Its quite sad honestly, trying to show someone who makes fun of you that you have a friend and kind of being turned down. I feel like this is where Sherlocks self doubt about being John's best friend begins, he begins to question (or shall I rather say, continues to question) if anyone truly does care for him, i wont try getting into the reasoning behind John saying that, because there's loads of arguments that could be made but that's not entirely what this is about lol, the thing that stands out is that Sherlocks expression genuinely changed, whether he was trying to hide it or not, you can see that he wasn't unbothered by the comment. 
We also see that Sherlock doesn't ever mention being strangled or fighting that person at the flat to John, he simply lets him believe that he has either not done anything or ignored him totally by not letting him in the flat he was strangled in. The key message with that is that he doesn't seem to guilt trip John ever, he doesn't use the things he's been through to his advantage. Now I'm not fully sure why he did this, to not appear weak maybe? Though I'm not sure if that would fully fit with every context this has happened in. 
Another small detail, was when he said “that's what i was suggesting” when John says he has a date. This is a great example of the fact that he knows nothing at all about human nature, and if he does in fact know the implications of saying that then ill save that for a future Johnlock analysis. 
What also stood out to me was the fact that he is clearly used to working alone and doesn't like working alongside others. This idea is kind of reflected repeatedly throughout the earlier episodes, when he's too distracted trying to solve a case to let John help and running off on his own. He also doesn't like asking for advice (which is made quite clear through him not wanting to repeat the phrase “i need to ask for advice”). I feel like I don't need to mention his lovely relations with New Scotland Yard and the people working there.
Last point ( I swear), what was kind of endearing was when he said “have a little respect” when the items at the museum were being shot at. This is kind of shown better in the next episode but even though he knows nothing about art and probably doesn't give a crap about it, he appreciates it and respects other peoples work. 
Nowww onto the relationship development
When it comes to Molly, he is still clearly taking advantage of her and manipulating her when he compliments her hair to get what he wants, this shows how he still doesn't really seem to care about other peoples emotions (for the record, I don't think he’s a sociopath lol i just cant ignore moments like these in the earlier episodes when it really seemed like he was one).
Though Graham  wasn't in this episode, what was made clear is that Sherlock works well with him, at least compared to everyone else at Scotland Yard. This is shown through Dimmock clearly not being too fond of him (lets be fair, Sherlock defo reciprocated those feelings). The key thing is that Gavin also believes in Sherlock, however annoying he may find him, because he recommended him to Dimmock. 
I don't want to repeat myself too much but I feel like Sebastian is kind of a tool used to show everyone's attitude to Sherlock when he was at Uni, and hell, even in the present day (well 2010 but whatever). He pretends to like him when he needs him but doesn't shy away from saying that he “hated him” and mocking him when he has the chance. 
Lastly, when it comes to Johnny Boy (useless TOP reference leave me alone), he is such a contrast to Sherlock, we get to see two men living together saving crimes, one of them thinks of himself as a “high functioning sociopath” and isn't fully human while the other reminds us, as well as Sherlock, of how normal humans function. He has a job, gets angry when Sherlock framed him for the spray-paint, tries to go on a date etcetcetc. It kind of balances their relationship out in a way. We see that though they get on, and manage to live together, John isn't exactly used to Sherlocks chaotic way of living (but lets not pretend that he doesn't enjoy the adrenaline he gets from it lol). Again, not to repeat myself butttttt, there is a visible change is Sherlocks expression when John corrects him and calls himself a “colleague” instead, so even though they are so very different from each other in many ways, and even though Sherlock doesn't make friends, he clearly does feel something for John (whether platonic or not, though its not entirely the time for my Johnlock obsession to come through). 
Thanks for reading <3, again, if you'd like to add anything, feel free to, I definitely missed a few things lol 
Edit: something else I've noticed is when he mentions the price of the hair pin. He truly does look happy for her. It's the second episode and we are starting to see already that Sherlock does feel things and clearly isnt a sociopath.
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akimmito · 4 years ago
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Heroes are made by the path they choose
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Master List
Chapter 18
Marinette was waiting for the moment when the Gotham vigilantes would show up, they ended up making the decision after she and Felix had a little chat with Silent Hill, she even spoke to John to ask what he knew about the two of them (of course, they had already met Robin, but their meeting was under other circumstances). John was very clear about his opinions, so she was able to have a better point of view when deciding.
They, sadly, would be the first to be recruited knowing the entire team. Unlike other members, they were recruited by two or three incumbents of the miraculous. The Aurore case, which was recommended by Chloe, Marc and Nathaniel; Silent Hill was recruited by her, Felix, and Max; Not in Hell was brought into the organization by Marc and Nathaniel (with approval from Alix and Luka). The others were led by other circumstances, such as John (who was led by her alone), Adrien (who only retired from the team due to circumstances that were out of his control), Jean (Chloe's butler ended up involved after it was done difficult to explain strange behaviors, becoming a great ally), Kim (he was initially recruited to be part of the team, but ended up only an affiliate) and Gina (how could she not realize that her granddaughter was the one who made contact with her? Maybe he couldn't discover her as Ladybug by magic, but there was nothing of the kind involved here anymore. It was easy).
So yes, Nightwing and Robin will be their first victims. The only one who completely opposed the idea was Damian, but she couldn't get any information out of him. Until minutes before meeting them.
"My father is Batman."
Marinette stayed still in those moments, but her son kept moving forward. She saw him draw one of his swords, but she was still processing his words. However, she slides it down and makes sure she doesn't forget to talk to him later. She can't go crazy in those moments.
Damian doesn't know who possessed him to say it in those moments, his mother had been asking the night before when they were alone, but he refused to say a word. And minutes, seconds, before meeting his brothers, it was not the right time. Well, the damage is done.
"You're not welcome." He's not feeling satisfaction in threatening his brothers, not at all, it's simply to maintain an image and let them know that they will not accept his games. It's just that.
Afterward, he just kept watching, watching the interaction, focusing his attention on Nightwing, who keeps his gaze fixed on his mother. He frowns, it doesn't matter if it's inside or outside the mask, Richard Grayson keeps looking at his mother; doesn't like. But his mother wouldn't notice him, would she?
No she wouldn't. She doesn't even give him a glance, she's more focused on Robin, so no, and his mother wouldn't notice Grayson. Even so, he must mark territory, he doesn't want one of his brothers as a father, although them is better than his father. No, he cannot submit to such thoughts, the man who marries his mother must be worthy of it.
When they go through the portal, the little glamor placed on him fades and he heads to the common room, where the others must be.
Marinette watches him leave, curious about her son's visible bad mood.
"Make yourself comfortable." She smiles kindly, in stark contrast to the intimidating image she was giving earlier.
"Suzaku…" She directs her gaze towards Robin, she finds it amusing that the youngest is the one who takes the reins because the responsible adult seems too lost watching her. Oh yeah, she realized, it's not subtle at all.
"Yes?"
"You mentioned that they already knew about us, how did they find out?"
"We have a contact." She doesn't remove her smile and proceeds to settle in front of Nightwing, her place would normally be at the head of the table, but she finds the attention he's giving her endearing. Oh well, what will their expression be when they see who is under the mask? It's not that she knows who they are, but she could guess, however, she will not be wandering in those directions.
“So you have a network of contacts?” Robin seems very excited by the information and seems to want to know more, much more. His curiosity is well received, especially since there is no malice, at least she cannot perceive it. "How do you open those portals? Is it related to heroes?"
"Quiet. All those questions will be clear at the meeting… so Nightwing, you didn't say anything, did a bird tear your tongue out?" This time, her smile changes to a cheekier one. John taught her to smile like that, it's a fun flirting game they have.
"I'm giving myself time to process everything, you really caught us off guard. We wanted to talk to one or two of you, I wasn't expecting us to have a meeting scheduled. ”He smiles humorously, he doesn't lie, sure, but it's not the whole reason.
"Oh, understandable. Although I could swear that the cause of your distraction was me. "Marinette is having fun, the years when she could barely talk to someone she liked, even a little, are long gone and buried, now it's much easier.
He doesn't respond to what was said because they see the others enter, being surprised to see several of them without a mask. Tim quickly recognizes Chloe Bourgeois, how not to do it, she is a MP and they have seen her several times in the news, she has very good press on her part. They also see Felix Graham of Vanily, Dick remembers him from that red carpet that Stephanie insisted on seeing months ago, in addition to the photos that Tim showed her from the newspapers of when Gabriel Agreste was arrested. The others, they don't recognize at all, although there are a couple of faces that they are sure they should recognize.
"Nice to meet you" Luka takes the initiative to say hello, sitting next to Marinette and taking his partner by the hand to take a seat next to him, Damian immediately claims the seat on the other side of his mother, refusing to take off his mask, even though everyone has put it aside.
"The pleasure is ours." Dick is the one who responds, more alert for the presence of everyone else.
"Do you have any specific questions or do you prefer to wait for us to finish explaining?" Felix asks, settling in next to Damian, the center of the table will always be where Marinette is sitting, so he will always be close to her. The Great Guardian is the main focus in any gathering, even if others don't know her importance.
"Just one." Tim responds, driven by his curiosity because he suddenly has these people who take care of his identity coming to use magic for that purpose, showing his face to them too easily. "Why are you showing us your identities?"
"We'll get to that, Robin. We'll start by introducing ourselves. ”Marinette smiles more kindly, taking a more professional approach now that everyone is settled in and the meeting has begun. Only Max is missing, but they know that he is busier with something more important. "It's hard not to recognize myself, people pay more attention to me than I'm comfortable receiving. Everyone knows me as Marie Lenoir, but my friends know my name is Marinette. ”She takes off her mask and Dick chokes on his own breath. Tim is very surprised, but doesn't show it. "He's my son, Damian.”The boy just frowns in his direction and thinks long and hard before lowering his mask.
Dick doesn't know how to feel about the Damian thing, he's a boy, a boy who surely has a lot of training or she wouldn't let him run around, right? In addition, he carries two swords with him, these being his main weapons, from what he could see of his suit, in addition to some other tools that he surely keeps in the thick belt that looks like cloth, the boy is covered in green, black and gray tones; He has even pulled his hood down revealing his tousled dark hair, very different from when he was seen at country house.
"Felix Graham of Vanily, although if you did a little research on the situation from seven years ago, you know who I am."
"Chloe Bourgeois, impossible not to know about me. I go out unnecessarily on television..."
"And I thought you loved the attention, Chloe." Nathaniel scoffs and she in response shakes her head the other way, hitting him lightly with her hair, drawing a little laugh from Alix at their childish fights that never change. "Nathaniel Kurtzberg, I'm not well known.”He shrugs, but smiles at the two guards. "And he's Marc Anciel.”
Marc just greets them with a little shyness, althoug he keeps moving forward and has made great progress by himself, plus he got his own confidence gain in his work and that's something about it that he will always be safe, no matter how uncomfortable he's in social situations.
"Alix Kudbel." She's simple with her presentation, doesn't see the need to focus too much on assuming something they might or might not know about them.
"Kagami Tsurugi, he's my boyfriend, Luka Couffaine." Simple and clear, Kagami wants to move fast to make the rules of the game clear. Having more allies was always a plan that was discussed when the MT started, but it's still a matter that puts everyone on edge. "Ideally, you should show your identities, the information that we will share with you is not something that is said to any random stranger. Mari-hime doesn't trust just anyone and her instincts are rarely wrong, but we need a guarantee."
Can the people they choose be trusted?
------
It's a Nara: We already made contact with Nightwing and Robin
Silent Hill: Oh perfect
Kiss my ass: So everything ready for the reunion on the weekend?
It’s aNara: Yes, hopefully, they will join too
Not in Hell: It will be entertaining
Kiss my ass: Of course it will! It will be so chaotic
It’s a Nara: I hope not, we will deal with serious matters
Oscar de la Rosa: I already booked the tickets for my trip to London
Divine gift: Everything perfectly calculated, excellent, Jean
Oscar de la Rosa: We must ensure that nothing gets out of control
Silent Hill: You guys are very efficient, they remind me of Alfred
Divine gift: No one can beat Alfred
Oscar de la Rosa: But it is an honor that you mention it
It’s a Nara: Who is Alfred?
Divine gift: A butler
Oscar de la Rosa: A Butler
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smallestclowninthecircus · 4 years ago
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Tma season 2 notes baybeee
I made myself take several breaks so I could give my frie d who is listening to it at the same time as me a chance to catch up. Honestly just posting them so I have them saved somewhere but whatever.
ep 41: real graham wrote keep watching before he was replaced. Jon feels like he's being watched. But they werent replaced by things related to the eye. It's the web that's on the box that replaces them. Endless hallways and doors to nowhere. I bet nicholas will have ideas what entity this relates to. If it even does. They're like the tunnels in the one with the builder guy. Tunnels closing in etc. Also like the cave diving one. He's assuming it's just one
ep 42: so 100 gecs? (IM SORRY I LIKE 100 GECS BUT LMAO) so there's some entity related to music right? There's the piper episode and the 27 w/ the calliope. Ah yes, this season is gonna be the season of Paranoid!Jon
ep 43: section 31? fucking books. god no. smashed lights? cult lady did that. covered the lights too. she mentioned a spooky clown doll. thats not random.
ep 44: is this that same circus that got mentioned before? it is! the pipe organ! pop off organ! pipe off! mouth on the stomach! yes! mouths in unusual places my beloved!
ep 45: antiques! like that one ep!
ep 46: every time books get mentioned i sigh. hhh sus smells. it got brighter. I get the vibes occasionally that the dark and the eye are sorta at odds with eachother. GRRR BARK BARK LEITNER. ayyy ex altiora. entity go brr. which entity do we thing it is? my guess is The Dark. The book buyer's name is Mike. He has scars? Electricity? The childhood friend of the guy who got it later on perhaps? The Vast? its formatted like an entity idk. This happened before the other one. He got trapped in the wood carving. a win for the web lol spiders go brr
ep 47: did i hear spiral? ITS THE NOT THING FROM THE EPISODE WITH NOT GRAHAM "it didnt move, it shifted" is like the exact same sentence as before. ay john's starting to remember. the laughing woah thats weird. is "michael" one of the entities? "you make it seem like theres a war" supports my theory that theres a struggle between a couple of the entities. I said i thought it was the eye and the dark i believe but im not sure. its whatever entity michael is vs the worms? what did nicholas say the worms were again? The Corruption? still dont know which one michael is tho.
Had to take a break after that episode. smth about the quality of michael's voice makes me feel like im gonna slip into one of those states where it feels like nothing is real, so i got a nice cold glass of water.
ep 48: jesus ok this one's kidna corny. you're telling me love made the crowd go away come on now. Ur losing it big J. also shouldnt it be more sus that "sasha" is so unaffected by the worm incident/ finding of gertrude's body
ep 49: haven't we heard hector's name before? oh is he the crime guy? fucking jared... so it's a throat? chompa chompa. (it's just a little bit hot) the good part about these episodes is that we know whoever's telling the story isn't gonna die. even if it's a close call, they're not dead. hotworth? ok not jared keay. it bothers me how theres so many repeated names, can they not come up with other names? "sasha"'s computer is breaking... sus. Elias our favorite weed man! jon ur so paranoid lmao
ep 50: robert smirk, at it again. this is like that one episode with the old dude who locked his door. who said idle beforehand? was it smirk? fingertips. thats so weird lmao. bahahah tim
ep 51: simon fairchild. im sure jon will mention the name at the end i cant remember where we've heard it. this is just like the cavediving episode. a hand? there was a hand in the last one right? the scalpel! and an eye thing. she's trying to throw them off.
ep 52: thats the guy from before! with the hearts! god i hate this guy writing the statement hh. lights blowing, and brackish water. we know how this ends but its still tense. rainer? reigner? rain man. we've seen him before
ep 53: pls not a leitner. oh boy mans scratched out his eyes. rip skelly. why would gertrude have had this statement off the books? jon stabbed himself?? bruh im? big man are you okay
ep 54: cockney boys! ayy its our favorite delivery men. she cut out their eyes. she knew that the eye was a thing?
ep 55: oily residue like the retirement home!
ep 56: worms? no. spiders?? bruhh. aaah yelling :(( aww martin anyways yeah i called it about paranoid!jon he needs to take a nap and drink some hot chocolate and calm down for once please
ep 57: just remembered, i think theres an entity called The Lonely?? This feels pretty lonely idk. fairchild, lukas/ lucas, some spooky place in norway idk. "sasha" knew he was recordinig hmm suspicious cmon jon figure it out. Sasha and tom. hm sus. for records sake i feel liek i should note here that I did have it spoiled to me simply that that's not sasha, but thats really all. i assumed it was like the thing that happened to graham in S1
ep 58: i feel like i recognize the name eustice (?) wick. someone please tell me im not just watching jon's descent into madness over the course of this podcast. im hoping it isnt so but, (and pardon the dsmp reference) im getting real wilbur vibes from this one.
ep 59: oh dear ok account from the fielding house. swirling designs? Spiral time? oh boyy. oh wait! 6 inch hole in the middle! is it not a spiderweb type design on the table? thats what i had assumed but that description sounds more like a spiral thing. cobwebs is a Web thing. ayy nicholas was right! the box goes in the table! the place that she kissed him was burning. Raymond is an avatar of The Web and agnes is the burning one. Lightless Flame! Why did she save him? i guess she was against this guy eating ppl or wtvr but why was she at the halfway house then? I think she's like michael.
ep 60: the eye go brr
ep 61: breacon and hope once again. tom. sasha's boyfriend. vampires sleep in coffins. the guy just walking in seems similar to the mind control of the vampires
ep 62: bones! its that one leitner. is this mother keay? the mom of gerard? this is what happened to her right? her skin was found on hooks? oh yeah thats what i thought the pages are made of skin. yeesh. The End!! sounds like an entity. phrased like one, and i think i remember it. are the people trapped in the pages? or... kept?
ep 63: eaten by the darkness! cavediving episode! (just like eaten by the sky) did my brain make up one called The Vast? it feels like it should be one, and all these episodes have some similar description about their feelings when they do whatever chosen hobby they have. ok now this one kinda feels like the dark. lights going out and all that. ok so not really a The Vast thing, its more of a Dark thing. feckin smirk gah.
ep 64: dice! the death guy! the death game thing! the person tricked somebody else into becoming death and then they were immortal? but if the egyptians wanted to kill him or punish him or whatever couldnt they just kill him? it worked in the end when he had the person giving the statement stab him, that did the job and actually killed him
ep 65: finally jon is actually acknowledging something is wrong.
So we know Mary Keay was revived most likely with the book by gerard.
Gertrude was way more aware of the entities than Jon. mary keay referenced The End openly and she cut the eyes out of her magazines and all that which makes me think she was aware of The Eye
ep 66: please not buried alive pleeaase not buried alive. lukas of the tundra? didnt we hear the name lukas before? she wanted it to be difficult to find important files because that way bad people couldnt find them?
ep 67: agnes... the girl in the hilltop house? agnes poppin off!! he's really not gonna question how she knew where he lived?? oh no D: the tree. were they the ones working on the house? aww they kissi- OH DEAR. why did she kiss him? it seemed like she cared about him? also she could kiss that other dude on the cheek and he was fine, but maybe it was cuz she was younger? lightless flame go brrrrr.
ep 68: oh god books. yup its bitchboy leitner. mans said "this seems supernatural, its a werd book!" bruuh.
ep 69: heh nice. aw cmon jon listen to martin. gahhh spiders. is that the class we heard about in the other doctor one with the teeth apple? some kind of psych class? oh dear. fucking spiders. aaaah. web do be goin brr. it's like the girl in the homeless shelter! who made the guy leave and she took his bed.
ep 70: is this gonna be the book that mary keay had? Most likely a leitner no matter what. Oh boy latin. Why did it start in latin then become old English? I'm guessing people put them in the book? He cant burn it. Phrophecies go brr. He says eh it's a decade in the future it's fine. Its gonna have changed. Ayy called it. Just accept it, it's a magic book. His death is getting closer. Leitner didnt make them but just collected them? Gertrude burned the book! She burned them down there so no one would know.
ep 71: oh boy tunnels. Our favorite thing /s. is The Buried a thing? Idk this seems pretty buried. Oh dear he's trapped here isnt he. "Not enough space to move, never enough to breathe" is that from the computer episode? With the guy who uploaded his consciousness? Somebody living down there. Hmmmm. Guesses: tom, sasha's boyfriend. Gertrude herself? (Though I doubt it)
ep 72: sweeney todd moment. Meat. The slaughter? Idk we'll see what the supernatural part is. Meat is meat. Similar to the slaughterhouse episode. Is it fucking Jared I swear to God it better not be. Hooligan teenagers, you know how it is. Meat is me lmao. Is the kid gonna be in the freezer. Ok that's good. OWW. Oddly textured candles. Made from people? Human fat or smth? Tom from the meat processing plant!
ep 73: outer bay shipping. Bet it's a subset of breacon and hope delivery. The Dark go brrr. Uh oh mans is gonna die. Leo or whatever. Cult ppl go brr. The people's church of the divine host. Who is the divine host? Is it reigner or whatever his name is? I dont think Jon can quit tbh. Probably an anonymous tip but from who?? One of the entities?
ep 74: fucking teeth hhh. I dont know which entity is related to teeth. Spiral. Isnt the spiral an entity. It feels like it could be related to many things idk. Yeah this sounds like the spiral. Heart attack at 29? Jesus... michael! That's kinda what I was thinking. Sasha goin in the tunnels. Hmm sus. They move the floor. Wack. Bet its tom.
ep 75: Man with a lightning scar. Has one of the leitner books. The childhood friend of the one who first introduced us to leitner. Oh my god that sounds terrifying. Michael crew.
ep 76: scalpel? Hmm spooky. NotSasha... think jon think.
ep 77: another double! NotThem, The Stranger. Not related to the table?
ep 78: what was that at the beginning? Question mark?? Oh boy more NotThem. Decker... what is the deal with the table. Does it contain the creature? Fucking Michael. Bitchboi himself.
ep 79: yes pop off martin. Ugh fucking Michael just leave man. I hate that dude. New person. Hmm. No idea who it is.
ep 80: shitener himself! Ok sir tell us the entities. Ayy The Spiral. Ok we know what that one is. The Eye is the beholding! Oooh. The Stranger. Did elias just kill leitner? Popping off honestly.
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nelllraiser · 5 years ago
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skin and bones | morgan & nell
LOCATION: the vural coven daycare center. (a coven member’s house, made into a daycare) PARTIES:  @mor-beck-more-problems and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: a zombie and a witch walk into a room full of emotionally turbulent children who have magical powers directly linked to said emotions. what could do wrong? 
It wasn’t that Nell didn’t like children. In fact, she quite enjoyed spending time with them and their funny little brains and ways of thinking, the world not yet having a concrete grip on them and their minds. But she would have appreciated it if Nisa had at least asked her if she had any plans before volunteering her for coven daycare. Of course, it also doubled as an after school program, providing for kids who needed a place to be while their parents still went about their work day, and a place to ask magical questions as well as work on their mundane homework. Nell guessed it didn’t matter all that much that her plans for the day had been detoured. After all, Morgan could still come drop her things off here. It just meant that Nell had needed to send her the address of the modified house turned children’s center. The buzzer for the door rang, and Nell set down the toys she’d been using to play along with Heather, a rather precocious little witch. “Alright, time for homework, now. I’ll be back in just a second with my….friend.” Morgan and her were still friends right? It only took her a second to open the door, revealing the smattering of children behind her to Morgan. “Hey, sorry for the change of plan.”
After the week of the mimes and Rebecca coming back, Morgan’s willpower to do anything out of her admittedly basic routine had flattened. So of course she was only getting to her book donations today. It stung too much of failure and disappointment to sell the family grimoires to The Archive or some online retailer, She couldn’t bear feeling the stiff spines watching her from the attic space, and Cece hadn’t wanted them when she offered. And the coven was, or had been, a kind of family to belong to. It made sense for them to keep the books safe. Maybe they would do better for some other, less cursed kid. Morgan was as resolved in this as she could have been. And yet, when Nell opened the door, Morgan couldn’t help but avert her gaze to the plastic storage lid in front of her. “It’s fine,” she said. “Stuff happens.” Sometimes big, woops now you’re dead stuff. And others-- the sound of a child’s wailing caught her attention--spur of the moment babysitting stuff. “I just wanted to make sure you guys have these. I know there aren’t uh...that alchemy isn’t a big thing in the coven. But there’s uh, there’s other stuff. Practical magic. Potions. Herbalist notes. And so...maybe it can help you guys. Or something.” She held the box out to Nell, still not quite looking at her.
Morgan wouldn’t even look at her, and Nell could only guess as to why. Had their awkward, strange online interaction really been all that bad? Or was it simply that Nell was a reminder of all Morgan had lost? Either way, it made Nell’s heart sink, and fumble a bit for words. “Yeah, totally uh- stuff.” She hated this, the not knowing and the wondering, and she’d done it too many times before with other friends. Nell wanted to ask how Morgan was doing but- it hadn’t gone all that well last time, had it? The sound of one of the kids upset had Nell whipping her head around over her shoulder, trying to make sure that nothing was being set aflame or anything of that like. Babysitting little witches was certainly a job that required a lot of...attention when they had the powers they did. But the books and bin in Morgan’s hand pulled another tug of worry from her gut, and Nell accepted them tentatively. “Are you...sure? I know that-” Her words were broken off by a louder yell, and Nell turned to find a Heather that had been perfectly peaceful and quiet a few moments ago, now glowing with magic, her mouth open with a childish yell pouring out of it.
“I’m sure,” Morgan said quickly. “I’m not a witch anymore. I can’t use these for anything. But you can. You and your family, the coven…” She was cut off by the sound of more wailing. Morgan followed Nell into the house, leaving her storage tub of books in the hall. There was no obvious sign as to what had started the problem, the other children were staring at her, some frightened, some annoyed, some fixing to start wailing just by the contagious quality of distress. Morgan gave Nell a sidelong glance. She looked at a loss. “Okay,” she said, summoning the voice she used on her students. “Who can tell us what happened?”
Nell didn’t have time to argue with Morgan whether or not she was a witch at this point, not when there was a ticking, magical time bomb in the middle of all the kids, threatening to set off the rest of the magical time bombs with her distress. She went to Heather, crouching down a bit to meet the girl’s eyes and place soothing hands on her shoulders. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s alright.” The last thing she needed was the little girl to show off some of the power she’d already started exhibiting, and it seemed like Morgan was doing well-enough with getting to the bottom of the matter. One of the little boys stepped forward to answer Morgan’s question. It was Bartie, short for Bartholomew, and the self-appointed policeman of the group. “It was Wren!” he said without hesitation, pointing towards one of the taller girls in the group. “She pulled Heather’s hair!” Wren, sufficiently indignant, puffed up as she prepared to defend her name.
“Was not!” she yelled back, her own cheeks turning a little pink. Somewhere behind the girl, a heavy stack of books began to hover, as if ready to obey the youngster's unknowing command. 
“Snitches get stitches, kid,” Morgan said, coming over to the table. “You can help without throwing your friends under the bus. Wren?” The little girl nodded, thinking she had been vindicated. “Lying is bad. Don’t get in the habit. You’re a good kid, say you’re sorry instead.” Of course, as luck would have it, seeing her tormentors being taken care of by the adults wasn’t making anything better for the crying Heather. Morgan exchanged a concerned look with Nell. Was there a set protocol for this sort of thing? A how-to manual? Being an only child hadn’t prepared her much for this, and Morgan didn’t know if she could bring herself to calm the way her own mother had. Books were rattling in the bookcase, glass was trembling off their shelves. Behind them, something shattered. The children screamed. “Heather?” She prodded. “It, uh, it is heather, right?”
Nell, of course, had been the youngest sibling, and therefore usually the one who’s tantrums were being taken care of by either Bea and Luce, or her parents. Thankfully, her time here in the daycare had taught her at least a couple of tricks for dealing with children. Heather nodded through her trembling bottom lip, somewhat taken with the two adults lending all their undivided attention to her. “It’s alright, Heather. Like I said, Wren’s gonna apologize and she won’t tug your hair again. What if we get some juice? I know we have some more graham crackers leftover, too. You can do that dipping thing you like.” Heather seemed to be decently placated by the mention of snacks, reaching out to take a hand of Nell’s, and one of Morgan’s into each of her tiny hands, latching as if they were human security blankets. Unfortunately, it seemed that Wren’s anger stemmed more from Heather getting more attention than anything else, and a soft whoosh filled the air as the rather heavy coffee maker in the corner of the room flew towards the comforting scene. Nell’s hand shot up with fight-ready reflexes to catch the thing by its cord as it flew, just barely keeping the thing from careening into Heather as hot coffee spilled out onto the floor.
Oh. Oh, Morgan had got this all wrong. She looked, panicked at Nell. “Shit.” Oh, that was bad too. And that coffee maker was a really close call. “Good catch,” she said, eyes flitting helpless between the two children. Heather was fine, maybe even too smug that she had been rescued from flying coffee. But Wren? Wren looked betrayed. How could she. How could Morgan pretend to be her friend and then only care about Heather? The toy cars on the floor started spinning and rattling. The other children huddled together, yelling at Wren to stop. Nope, nope, nope, this was no good at all. Morgan didn’t know which problem was more appealing, but she gestured with her head for Nell to handle the crowd control. They trusted her, right? And she had sisters. Morgan--well, she liked to kid herself that she was good with kids, but this wasn’t anything like the one-on-one tutoring sessions she’d done at the volunteer center. 
“Hey,” she said, extracting herself from Heather and sitting down directly in front of her. “Hey, Wren?” She moved to touch the girls shoulder, but she was having none of it. Morgan caught sight of Nell again, mouthing, Any ideas? 
“This hasn’t been a great day for you either, huh?” she tried. “Can you take a breath and talk to me about it?
Nell grimaced, only having just barely managed to not swear in front of the children as well when the coffee pot had flown. It was really only one magical child disaster after another with these guys, and Nell hadn’t expected Wren to feel so...well- emotional. “Hey, hey-” she began, following Morgan’s indication that she should help calm the brewing mob of ankle-biters. Of course, Morgan and she weren’t even that much taller than some of the older kids here. “Look- come over, here! I wanna show you guys something.” Nell was blessing the name of whoever gave kids an attention span inversely related to their tempers as the children huddled on over to where Nell was drawing a hasty summoning circle on the floor. In a few moments, there were some vegetable lambs playing within the confines of it, sniffing the little fingers of the children that were being offered to their fuzzy, little noses. Nell looked back to Morgan, and simply shrugged, signally that she didn’t know what baggage it was that Wren had brought along with her from school. Wren was all too happy to share, though. 
“I don’t wanna talk!” Wren exclaimed, tiny fists throwing themselves down against her sides. The toys around her tumbled, one breaking clean in half. But then Morgan’s voice was so soft, almost as soft as her fluffy hair looked. “Can I touch it?” she asked nicely this time, pointing towards the locks near Morgan’s shoulders. She didn’t wait for permission, simply reaching out to gently pat the stands. “They are soft. I like soft things. My kitty-” Again her lower lip trembled. “My kitty’s soft. Mom said my kitty was sick, and now she’s over the rainbow bridge and with the other nice kitties, and her fur was the same color as Heather’s hair and-” She cut herself off, her lip quivering again. “But I want my kitty! She’s mine!”
Morgan leaned in to let Wren pet her hair. Whatever made her feel better. She nodded along to her story, listening carefully. Oh, this was bad. Her heart sank, understanding. How old was this kid anyway? Was this the first thing she’d seen die? “That would make me really mad too. I had a kitty like that once. And it really sucks, you know? It’s the worst feeling when something that’s yours goes away.” She leaned in dangling her hair before Wren’s little fingers. “Can you tell me more about her, Wren? What was her name? Mine was named Catty. And she loved to play with this one plushy bunny. Did your kitty have any favorite toys?” She held her arms up to block a flying box of crayons. As they rolled around the floor, she reached for her little hands, offering hers out in turn. What she needed most was to burn off some of the energy she was holding over this. You know, before she broke the house.
Nell stayed where she was making sure the kids didn’t grab too harshly at the little lambs who were frolicking around on the rug. “Gently,” she reminded one while listening to the conversation between Morgan and Wren. She hadn’t known about the cat, and Nell’s own heart ached for the little girl. Wren seemed to be warming to Morgan, though, happy to continue petting the woman’s hair.
“Your’s is Catty? Like a cat?” she asked tentatively, as if wondering if this was something she should smile at. “Mine’s Fluffy, because she had lots of fur. She liked feathers the most. Sometimes mommy would bring some home, and make them fly around, and Fluffy likes to chase them.” It seemed that Wren hadn’t yet completely made the transition to past tense. Wren put her small hands in Morgan’s, squeezing them a bit once connected. “It’s not fair that she has to go! Why can’t she come back?” The toys seemed to have calmed a bit with Wren, their shaking looking more like trembling now.
Morgan smiled back, encouraging the little girl to smile. Fluffy was a good cat, as far as cats went. She squeezed Wren’s hands tight, encouraging her to do the same. “No, it’s so not fair. It's the worst. It’s the worst feeling, that she can’t come back.” She got on her knees, encouraging the girl to stand up. “None of it’s fair. It just happened and it sucks. It sucks so hard. And it’s okay to be upset about it. You can squeeze my hands as hard as you want, with how upset you are. All that energy? All of you that you miss her with. Just pour it out, through here.” She squeezed Wren’s hands again and nodded as the little girl began to tighten her grip. Her eyes began to water again, but the room around them was turning quiet. “Yeah, just like that. Think about it real, real hard and let it go. You can squeeze harder, it’s okay.” Zombie touch problems could come in handy sometimes after all. “Tell me more about fluffy. Anything at all. I bet she was the best cat. And talking about her? That’s the best thing you can do sometimes when you get all bottled up, okay?”
Wren nodded solemnly, and did her best to follow Morgan’s instructions, letting her feelings dissipate around her and her magic release the energy it needed to. “She was the best cat,” the little girl mumbled modelling Morgan’s use of past tense back to the woman, like she was suddenly exhausted after all that she’d gone through in the last few minutes. “The fluffiest. And she liked to meow at the birds. She wasn’t supposed to sleep with me at night but- I let her in anyway. And mom said ‘you’re both too cute to do anything about it’.” Wiping at her face, the little girl’s shoulders finally relaxed before she simply came out with. “I’m tired.” Meanwhile, Nell heard from across the way, picking up on Wren’s words as she sent the vegetable lambs back from whence they came. 
“It is getting close to nap time.” A groan went up from a few of the other kids, even though it didn’t apply to the older and school-aged ones. “Why doesn’t everyone go get ready, and then we can have a story. And you all-” she signaled the older bunch. “Can keep going with your homework.”
Morgan followed the kids’ lead, half carrying Wren as she trailed behind the others to where the blankets and pillows lay. Each child seemed to have their own spot and ritual for settling down. Even Wren, too young to be self conscious, toddled over to pick up an alien stuffed toy almost her size to cuddle with. Satisfied enough, she went back into the main room to find Nell, wiping her brow. She had no idea where the little girl’s magic energy had gone, exactly, without her being able to consciously absorb it. She had no idea just how intense, how heavy it might have been. Sometimes the smallest bodies bent under the heaviest weights. But most of the house was intact, and only a few toys had been broken. ‘SORRY’ she mouthed to Nell, gesturing with her head to meet discreetly in the hall. “Well that was...something,” she sighed. “Sorry, again, if I overstepped. Is this what things are like here all the time?”
Nell followed after Morgan once she’d told the oldest, most responsible child to come get her should anything be needed, and left the door just slightly ajar so that she might hear her name if called. “No, no, you did great!” Nell exclaimed, her previous awkward energy replaced with an earnest one. “It would have been much worse if I had to deal with it by myself. And like- you literally did wonderfully with Wren. I didn’t even know that her cat- well- you know.” Another little stab of guilt filled Nell for not having realized there was more going on than she’d realized. “And it’s not always...quite that exciting but- getting this many magical kids together— well it’s hardly ever boring. I’m honestly surprised the house is still standing at this point.”
“You can say dead, Nell,” Morgan reassured. “Fluffy’s dead, I’m dead, only difference between us is I’m still kicking and talking.” She shook out her hands, as if there might actually be some energy pent up in there. “And, you know, you couldn’t have figured out what was up. Even I didn’t think it was more than just some kid being petty. But I guess grief can make jerks out of five year olds and adults alike. You were good, getting the rest of them to cut it out long enough for her to calm down.” She offered the young witch a smile. She’d missed being around her, and the way chaos seemed like just another day in town whenever they were together. She hadn’t thought that feeling could find her again, and sensing its echo in her silent chest made her ache. “Well, with someone who rolls with the punches as good as you, I bet they’re in pretty great hands. And I bet you’ll take good care of my old stuff too.”
“I mean- I know. It was just sad- thinking about a kitty that’s gone,” she finished somewhat self-consciously. Nell was generally tough as nails, ever-ready to fight the world and anything it might hold, but kitties held a special place in her heart. “I don’t see you kicking, though,” she tried to tease, wondering if it was in good taste. She just wanted things to feel normal again. “Yeah, looks like grief is the true, universal unifier.” The comment seemed a little uncertain, as if she weren’t sure whether or not Morgan was talking about the strange grief her and those close to her were going through, unsure whether or not to mourn something that was dead yet still here, living in front of their very eyes for lack of a better word. “Thanks anyway, though. Even if I’m ready and able at all times,” she chuckled with a touch of sarcasm. Her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, she began to nibble it gently, not sure whether she should say what was on her mind or not. But worry had never stopped her before, had it? And they’d already had those strange words online. What was there to lose that wasn’t already lost? “I’m sure we can make use of the old stuff. But Morgan...you know...I mean it when I say you helped. You did something not everyone can do, and well- even if you’re undead now-” How to say this? She’d tried her best online, and where had that gotten them? “I’m not trying to upset you, or try and downplay anything that happened, or how you feel, or anything like that. But you still have...those parts- like I was talking about. The things that are you and no one can take. Your identity. That’s what that was in there- talking to that little girl.”
Morgan let out a sad, breathless laugh. How lost must she be, to have the same lifeline thrown at her over and over again and still not know how to catch it and reel herself in. Every time she thought she had a grip, that she might know what being ashore would feel like again, she slipped, or she crashed into a moment that proved just how far she still had to go. “The bones are good,” she said, rapping her knuckles on her arm as she held herself. “I’ve got good bones, or so I hear, but I just can’t seem to dig them out all the time.” She started for the door. “You’re fine, Nell, really. You’re not being--you’re fine. But the thing is--” What was it? Why was she clamming up and pushing Nell away. A minute ago everything had been nice, even normal. Was that the  problem? That she’d almost forgotten what she was for a second, and then she’d remembered? Morgan held herself tighter. “I’m not coming back all the way, Nell. I got lucky in there. I still know some things maybe, but I’m not a witch anymore. The next thing that happens--I don’t know. At some point, I do become functionally useless! And you could’ve handled that just as fine without me, and...it was nice, okay, to be able to do something for you, it was! I miss...being able to help. To do things, be things besides miserable all the time. And I even forgot I was dead for second there, but I am, and the whole thing was just a fluke!” She lifted a hand to tug at the roots of her hair, grounding herself back in her body with the sharp feeling. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “For everything.”
It was happening again, wasn’t it? Just like it had online, though it seemed to be overlayed with more sadness rather than frustration this time around. A flicker of panic found its way through Nell as Morgan went for the door, not wanting this to be how they ended things today. “You don’t have to, Morgan. Even if- even if not all of you comes back, this is still you, even if it’s changed. And being a witch isn’t just- magic.” Right? Being a witch wasn’t just the feel of that power coursing through her. “It’s family, isn’t it? And you don’t- you don’t get kicked out of family just because-” you couldn’t do magic. She faltered, trying to push down the part of her brain that was wondering...was that not what Nisa had done to her, in a way? Perhaps not in the same sense, but Nell hadn’t been able to do a particular kind of magic and...it had left her worse off in the eyes of her mother...hadn’t it? So she rephrased. “You don’t get left out of- of this family for not being able to do that. “Don’t we all just...become useless at some point? Isn’t that what we have each other for? To fill in those gaps? Like you did today? It’s okay if-” She’d been readying to say more until she saw just how upset Morgan was becoming, and stopped mid sentence, recalibrating. “Morgan- Morgan, it’s alright,” she said softly, reaching up to try and grip the hand that was clenched in the woman’s hair. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry. This isn’t your fault. None of it is. You didn’t ask for this shit to be handed for you.”
The saddest part was not knowing what Nell’s hand really felt like. She wasn’t much of a touchey-feely sort of girl. When they bonded, there was always some pride in the way. The only other time they’d held hands had been for a spell, and Morgan’s concentration had been on the summoning to think about much else. She had no memory to tether this moment to. She only knew that Nell must miss her to reach out like this, that she must have left some little hole behind when she died. Morgan reached up to pat her fingers, gently, the way she practiced with Deirdre. She didn’t know what was more frightening, more awful: that she could never fill the space she’d left behind, or that she could, all along, and simply hadn’t yet. “I know it looks bad, but it helps,” she said, giving her fingers a careful squeeze. “I don’t feel things like you do. It’s...filtered through a haze, pressing in through this big, cold blanket. Something has to be hard enough to get through.” She lifted her eyes to meet Nell’s, just holding her tear ducts in line. She didn’t understand how this balanced out, how she’d earned her kindness, and it took no small amount of concentration to keep her frail reserve somewhat in place. “Thank you, Nell. I uh...I think I’m gonna go, but I do wanna still, I mean, I’m trying. I’m trying to figure my shit out. And maybe...I don’t know. Maybe we can talk more some time. I can crowd control the kids sometimes in a pinch, apparently. It’s not like I get normal-tired anymore. And I’d like...I’d like...what you said. But right now, I think I should go.” She held her gaze, mouth quivering, willing her to understand.
It’d been nice, working together for those few moments like they had before, falling back into those somewhat chaotic rhythms. It was only natural for Nell and Morgan to fall into them. After all, their first meeting hadn’t exactly been peaceful. Then there’d been the few times she’d been blessed enough to do magic with Morgan. It always felt strangely intimate, melding energies with another to make something together, or solve something together. With a pang, Nell realized that...perhaps there was more to grieve for than she’d initially thought. To think she’d never know Morgan in that way again- to feel them becoming one to create something good and beautiful- it took her by surprise, though she still firmly believed her words about witchdom and family. “I know,” she simply said, not wanting Morgan to feel like she had to explain herself if it made her uncomfortable. “I just- I didn’t want you to...hurt yourself.” But that’s all Morgan seemed to be doing lately, at least in Nell’s eyes. Tearing herself down, and ripping scabs off of wounds that couldn’t heal fast enough to handle the rate at which Morgan seemed determined to reopen them. It hurt to see her friend like this, more than she could put into words, and it seemed that all she could do was go along for the ride, and try her best to support Morgan. “That’d be nice,” she offered, not entirely sure what to say anymore. “I’d like that. Both the- working with the kids- and the talking. It’ll be alright,” she finished as Morgan took her exit, Nell’s hand waving forlornly at the closing door. It had to be.
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takaraphoenix · 5 years ago
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Dr who for the ask game
Thanks for playing! This is also a big, fun one! :O (I do love that the majority of these asks hit target on my own biggest obsessions x3 We checked off like all the live action shows at this point, I think, the only things left are anime/animated xDDD)
Again with a cut due to the sheer size. ^^°°°
Top 5 favourite characters: CAPTAIN JACK HARKNESS, Martha Jones, Donna Noble, The Doctor, Yasmin Kahn
Other characters you like: Rory Williams Pond, Graham O’Brien, Mickey Smith, Bill Potts, Sarah Jane Smith, Craig Owens
Least favourite characters: Rose Tyler by a landslide
Otps: not realy any actual OTPs but ships I guess I’m fond of would be Vasta/Jenny and Rory/Amy
Notps: every ship involving the Doctor, because I just honestly find it weird and uncomfortable to look at the Doctor as a romantic or even worse yet sexual being, but most of all Doctor/Rose and Doctor/River, also Jack/Ianto
Favourite friendships: I am living for the current team dynamic, 13-Yaz-Graham-Ryan are really good but my forever favorite is the Doctor and Jack, also the best team-up was the Doctor with Donna and Martha, that was perfect
Favourite family: THE FAM! 13′s team
Favourite episodes:oooh mmh, I do have multiple favorites, so let’s do this!
Blink: it is such a good episode, there was a time I just popped that one in when I had 40 minutes to waste
Utopia/The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords: for me personally, this is where Doctor Who peaked. My absolute favorite storyline and episodes and team-up - my favorite Doctor with BOTH my favorite companions in an episode with my favorite Master as the enemy. Amazing. There was a time when I would regularly rewatch this, just these three
Turn Left/The Stolen Earth/Journey’s End:Suuuch a satisfying conclusion for a four series plotline, all of the companions coming together like that? It was so good
The Lodger & Closing Time: I love Craig and I love how these two episodes switch things up!
Favourite season/book/movie: Rather obviously, series 3 - the return of Jack, the series where Martha is the companion, a series with my favorite Doctor and four of my favorite episodes in it!
Favourite quotes:THE ANGELS HAVE THE PHONE BOX! xD And the wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff! I got that one on a necklace even! *laughs*
Best musical moment: uuurgh the soundtrack of this show is actually so good? I listened to it on a loop for years. Series 3 and 4 being my favorites, they make you feel things, man.
Moment that made you fangirl/boy the hardest: Just this series when Jack returned. And let me elaborate to just convey how hard I fangirled at that, because it wasn’t just “oh a fave!”.
You see, Jack is... kind of why I’m here? I watched the first series with my mother back when it started airing in Germany. But they kind of... stopped dubbing it and it stopped airing in Germany and eh, I was okay with it because this show seemed weird like they just switched out the actor of the MAIN CHARACTER who does that what the fuck and I really liked Jack but he was gone now too so oh well.
However, then I read online about how Jack was in series 3. So... I went online and Doctor Who is genuinely the first TV show I ever watched in English, because I wanted to see Jack but there was no dub.
Then series 3 ended and both Jack and Martha left and I was very meh because I remembered that this is the show that constantly replaces its whole cast.
You can probably guess what happened next, but Jack was in the finale of series 4. So I went back into Doctor Who, rewatched what there has been so far all the way up to the series 4 finale - and that was when I was sold, because holy shit even with the switching of companions, they just bring them back! They just brought them all back! That was such a good pay-off.
Ironically, that was when I actually stuck around and started watching the show in real time instead of waiting for the next Jack appearance to bring me back from hibernation. Ironically because - well, that was the last we saw of anyone. (Aside from 10 in the 50 year special.)
That hard, hard cut from 10 to 11, no return of any companions...
Needless to say that when 12 came and went with no care for anything pre-11, I kind of... came to accept that this was it. Especially when they announced yet another hard cut - as in Moffat would finally be replaced and with the new era, both a new Doctor and new companions - I was so sure we’d never get to see anyone from the old crew again.
So when, after literally ten years, Jack Harkness returned and was so... so... Jack, I made the loudest, most unholy sound and the excitement of them actually acknowledging that he would be back for more and he would be there when the Doctor needs him? Tears of joy.
(but aso pls #LetMarthaMeet13 okay? Okay)
When it really disappointed you:YOU’RE MAKING A 50 YEAR ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL. YOU HAVE SOOO MANY GOOD COMPANIONS. BUT. BUT YOU BRING NONE OF THEM BACK. ONLY ROSE TYLER’S FACE. OF ALL OF THE FACES. OF EVERYONE I COULD HAVE SEEN AGAIN IN THAT SPECIAL, IT HAD TO BE BILLIE PIPER’S MEDIOCRE ACTING. REALLY? REALLY??
Saddest moment: When 10 regenerated
Most well done character death: Surprisingly enough, this show makes me care even about the one episode characters to the degree that I find their deaths frustrating. It’s pretty good at character deaths overall
Favourite guest star: Does Craig Owens count? Because he only had two appearances in total. And the second one was genuinely a surprise to me; I was sure that The Lodger would be a stand-alone, never to be seen again kind of deal
Favourite cast member: John Barrowman! David Tennant! Freema Agyeman! I love all three of them and seeing them in other things always makes me really happy!
Character you wish was still alive: I mean, Bill. Can you imagine if the lesbian companion had gotten to meet 13?? Death :D
One thing you hope really happens: Martha. I mean, come on. Jack is back, Jack warned the Doctor, promised to be there when needed. There’s no way Jack lost contact with Martha and Mickey, even with those two off in space fighting aliens alone. I’d love for this... very, very big plotline that is currently happening to include the Doctor’s old friends coming back once more to help.
Most shocking twist: I mean... I mean it’s gotta be this series’ Surprise Origin Story. Like, I still can’t quite comprehend that one.
When did you start watching/reading?: As mentioned above, when it first started airing in Germany
Best animal/creature: Does the TARDIS count as a creature? Because then Sexy wins!
Favourite location: THE TARDIS. I wish they’d show it more often just casually. I wanna see the companions hang out in there, I wanna see their rooms, see that indoor pool and stuff
Trope you wish they would stop using: "OH NO THE DALEKS ARE STILL ALIVE AFTER THE LAST TIME I TRIED GENOCIDE ON THEM *gasp*”... Like. The very first time they brought them “back from the dead”, it was really cool because as a newbie you never met them before but you get they are important. Then they were wiped out. And then they returned again. And okay, sure. So they were wiped out again. And miraculously survied again.
Look, I get it. Doctor Who has three recurring entities in the villain gallery who are like... obligatory - the Master, the Daleks and the Cybermen. But for the love of everything, stop trying to show it as a “surprise twist” that the bad guy is a Dalek like we all knew they’re coming they’re the cockroaches of the universe, they ALWAYS surprise, stop acting like we should be shocked that they’re back again.
Every time, the Doctor goes Pikachu meme but with sad eyes and like just... have the Doctor groan, kick a Dalek and go “not you again”, instead of “how did you POSSIBLY survive THIS? :O” because after the sixth miracuous survival of a genocide, it stops being a surprise twist... -_-
One thing this show/book/film does better than others: Clearly something, because it has me come back for more like a masochist despite me being a character-driven viewer - me, abandoning the show after the first series was very in character, because I’m attached to characters and if you routinely replace all the characters, that’s... not really my thing. Somehow, this show defies the odds there
Funniest moments: JACK FLIRTING WITH PEOPLE AND THE DOCTOR GOING “NO STOP THAT!” xDDD
Couple you would like to see: NONE. NO ROMANCE. KEEP THAT SHIT OUT OF MY DW!!! Urgh. Just give me fun found family space adventures. I swear ever since the cast announcement I have had a twitchy eyebrow waiting if they’ll push for Ryan/Yaz and so far I am sooo glad they are NOT. I just... want friendship and space adventures, no fucking romance. At all. Not with the Doctor, not between companions. No drama
Actor/Actress you want to join the cast: ...to stay in character, I have to say Dominic Sherwood. Partially because I am obsessed with him, but also because I WANNA HEAR HIS BRITISH ACCENT FOR A WHOLE ASS SERIES PLEASE
I would also like to see the return of James Marsters though. Time Heist teased by showing his face and acknowledging his existence in Doctor Who (it’s not like DW has acknowledged a whole lot of Torchwood canon so far, considering the catastrophic events TW has dealt with without the Doctor...), so that had me kind of hopeful he may at least cameo for an episode...
Favourite outfit: I looove Martha’s red leather jacket and Jack’s coat
Favourite item: The chameleon device
Do you own anything related to this show/book/film?: *clears throat awkwardly* ...Yes?
a metro card holder thingy with the TARDIS on it,
an I pin I have on my pencil case,
a necklace with a miniature TARDIS,
a necklace with the wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey quote in a swirl on it,
a necklace with a Weeping Angel pendant,
a mug with the 10th Doctor as a cat on it,
a lanyard with Police Call Box written all over and a miniature TARDIS dangling on it
a TARDIS dress,
a whoosh-sound making door opening TARDIS with size-fitting figures of the 10th Doctor, Jack, Martha, K9, Idris, 11, Rory and John Hart (it’s James Marsters’ pretty face, okay?),
a Funko Pop 10th Doctor,
another TARDIS but this one is smaller and can’t open,
a larger TARDIS that can open (and is the right size for my Doctor Whooves),
a Doctor Whooves (if that counts since he’s technically My Little Pony but also he’s the Doctor so like...),
a TARDIS-blue stuffed owl with Police Owl written on it,
the first four series on DVD,
a poster from the 50th Anniversary with the War Doctor walking away from an explosion and 10 and 11 on either side of him,
a pocket watch that is the chameleon device
What house/team/group/friendship group/family/race etc would you be in?: Mmmh I would like to be on the current team the most, I think? Generally speaking, their adventures were less intense than most others and I dig the family vibe
Most boring plotline: Boring, huh? There are always a couple stinkers, at least one in each series, but a really boring plotline was... Clara’s post-Impossible-Girl one. I LOVED her as the Impossible Girl, she was so interesting and I think that after she went into the Doctor’s timeline, the character should have been retired. Have her, I don’t know, dissolve there, since she is spread out through time. But that she stuck around was... not good, for her character? Her love drama with Danny was incredibly boring and not fun to watch (especially when she tried to kill the Doctor :D)
Most laughably bad moment: THAT FUCKING MOON EPISODE. THE FUCKING EPISODE WHERE THE FUCKING MOON TURNED INTO A FUCKING EGG AND AN ALIEN HATCHED TO THEN LAY A NEW MOON EGG IMMEDIATELY AFTER BEING BORN AND HUMANS JUST FUCKING SHRUGGED THAT SHIT OFF. Urgh. There are a lot of cringey things happening on this show, but this takes by far the crown. It was so stupid, so dumb, so ridiculous
Best flashback/flashfoward if any: Every time we learn more about the Doctor’s past *^*
Most layered character: I... I mean the Doctor. So many layers, so many lives, so many years
Most one dimensional character:Mh, this is harder... Among the not one-episode-off characters? I guess Nardole. Like, sure, good guy, but... not really all that deep that one
Scariest moment: Blink with the Weeping Angels. They lost A LOT of their scariness the more they were used - Moffat really overused them, in my opinion; they would have done better only appearing very rarely. But that first episode with them was just daaamn
Grossest moment: Cassandra?? Woman only made of skin?
Best looking male: CAPTAIN JACK HARKNESS
Best looking female: MARTHA JONES
Who you’re crushing on (if any): Martha Jones
Favourite cast moment: John and David being cute behind the scenes is always amazing, but the bes moment is definitely the 500 Miles video!
Favourite transportation: The TARDIS, that’s not even a question!
Most beautiful scene (scenery/shot wise): Whenever we get to see (not destroyed) Gallifrey? It’s so gorgeous??
Unanswered question/continuity issue/plot error that bugs you:SO MANY AFTER THAT LAST SERIES. But also things like: Where did Clara fuck off to in her flying diner? What exactly is Jack doing now that there is no Torchwood anymore? How in the world did Torchwood ever even work like how was the Doctor just never around during these gigantic problems?? WHO WAS THE DOCTOR’S FIRST WIFE? And what was the Doctor’s child like? Because the only one ever even mentioned is the Doctor’s granddaughter Susan, but a granddaughter implies one more generation between. WHERE IS JENNY? Since she is also the Doctor’s daughter but also just fucked off into space and like why is she not trying to track her parent down??
Best promo: I mean, it clearly works when they show me Jack’s face so that’d be it for me :D”
At what point did you fall in love with this show/book: At the series 4 finale, as above more elaborately explained
IN DEPTH FANDOM QUESTIONS
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ohmightydevviepuu · 5 years ago
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author interview (2.0)
tagged by @thisonesatellite and @profdanglaisstuff
name:  devra (devviepuu on AO3)  
fandoms:  OUAT, arrow (olicity), pretty soldier sailor moon (manga/anime/crystal)
where i post:  AO3, by preference; tumblr by sheer force of nature
most popular one shot:  voices from the yellow road (epistolary/modern AU/captain swan)  originally inspired by a Tumblr prompt: "i got up at 2 am to get some snacks at the convenience store down the street and opened my door to find you trying to sleep on the floor of the hallway because your roommate has his fiancée over so i guess i’ll lend you my couch for the night AU"
most popular multichapter:  for OUAT, i know your devils and your deeds (be prepared to bleed) which is my season 4 headcanon.  for arrow, it’s multiplicity, my season 5/6 headcanon.
favorite story i wrote:  all of them were my favorites while i was writing them, umm...i am really happy with what i did on “devils”.  i could not stop myself writing “hello love (a silent kiss from a wish)” because the words just poured out of me, all word-y and full of Feelings.  but i think the one i most excited about/proud of is my rewrite for the captain swan rewrite-a-thon (which will begin posting 1 april)--it is a retelling of seasons 1/2 with detective noir elements (originally inspired by the maltese falcon).  emma is a PI, killian is a femme fetale-type character with a strange, cursed past, graham gets murdered, lots of shenanigans ensue.  and lots of angsty late-night emotional drinking scenes.
story you were nervous to post:  the brilliant dance.  i do NOT write autobiographical stories--though, like most writers, my psychoses bleed through all over the place, scattered amongst the detritus of bits of conversations i’ve heard or scraps of people i used to know.  but there is a moment in TBD that absolutely, 100% is a thing that happened to me, and it was the first time i’d ever written it out.  i was going through some family shit while i was writing it and it just spilled out into that moment.  the story probably would not have gone public without support from @profdanglaisstuff, who graciously agreed to beta for me when i asked her out of nowhere even though it was a lot of tropes that are Not Her Thing.  the bits of it she liked gave me confidence to keep going, and the bits she didn’t like, i rewrote until i was happy.  it was a great feeling, my first collaboration, and even if there are pieces of the story i would go back and clean up or expand, i’m still pretty happy with the things i tried to express in that story and the writing style i got to play with.
how i choose my titles:  mostly song lyrics.  usually a song gets into my head while i am writing or adjacent to the writing process.  sometimes it’s a quote--my rewrite is based around a series of shakespeare quotes, because i am a nerd.  (the title of the rewrite is “our little life (rounded with a sleep)” which is a riff on “the stuff that dreams are made of” which was itself a misquote of the tempest in the film version of the maltese falcon that i may or may not have written a college paper about 20 years ago)
complete:  all of my fics except for the rewrite are complete.
incomplete:  rewrite, which, i swear, will be finished in a week or two, and will begin posting 1 april 2020.
do you outline:  sort of.  i usually know where stuff is going.  sometimes, when i can’t find the words, i start typing out a running outline of the scene or the story until it begins to reveal itself.   then, alas, i must turn that into actual words--where is a magic wand when you need one??
coming soon/not yet started:
CSRR - i am paired with the delightfully talented @carpedzem who sent me a stunning, gorgeous, colorful comic that basically wrote itself--once i got out of its way--and it posts this sunday (9 feb)
CSSNS - i am working with @thisonesatellite on a long-awaited (for us, at least) rewrite of season 5.  i think we already knew we were going to be lovely friends before the idea came to the surface, but when both of us at the same time--about six months ago, TBH--made a buffy reference and then said, man, someone should do a season 5 rewrite--i think it was a good sign!  YES.  THOSE TWO THINGS ARE RELATED.  AND YES, WE ARE GOING TO OUTLINE IT.
a detective fic--these seem to be going around??  but i’m background plotting a kind of romantic suspense bodyguard/PI fic.  i think it is going to have magic in it.  not sure.
CSRT - please, please consider reading my rewrite “our little life (rounded with a sleep)” when it comes out, because i am really pleased with how it is turning out
a 3A divergence - that is barely at the back of my head but i had a crazy, shape-shifting idea for 3A divergence that involves emma as a mermaid, HookFire as reluctant allies (with the charming crew) trying to raise henry AND get her back, and pan’s curse.
do you accept prompts:  i don’t know--no one has ever asked?  i guess it would depend on if i thought i had something to say!
@katie-dub, @optomisticgirl, @shireness-says @mahstatins
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initiala · 6 years ago
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Hook-Echo (4/9)
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Summary:  They’re in a rut. That’s what Deputy Emma Swan tells herself over and over again as her boyfriend, Killian Jones, grows more and more distant, and more frustrated, due to complications with his dissertation research on tornado formation. But storm season’s more than halfway over and this dry spell is doing nothing to make things easier for him–or their relationship. Will everything blow over, or is there a greater storm on the horizon?
Rating: E
Content warnings:  Graphic depictions of injury resulting from natural disasters, minor character death
Aw, this is the last chapter with this header. Now we’re going to get into some interesting changes... Thanks again to @optomisticgirl, @spartanguard, and @idoltina for all they did on this.
This is also on AO3 or FF.Net if that’s how you wanna roll.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Emma blinked, roused from a daze. She realized she'd been staring at the map of the county pinned to her wall, and from the way her neck pinched when she sat up straight, she'd been out of it for far too long. Ruby leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, while she watched Emma with a raised eyebrow and concern on her face. "Yeah," Emma said, rubbing the back of her neck. "Fine, what's up?"
"Well, whatever's so fascinating about McClain County, apparently," Ruby said, pushing off the wall and going to sit on one of the chairs. "You've been staring for like twenty minutes."
Emma sighed. "Just… thinking. Nothing bad, not even work related, which is not something that should be repeated to Graham or David, but whatever."
"Emma."
It wasn't bad, but she just missed Killian, that was all. Between their respective work shifts, and a few times Emma got called out on an emergency, it had been more than a week since they'd spent more than a few hours in the same house, let alone when both of them were conscious at the same time. The only thing she could be pleased about was the fact that, despite going to sleep and getting up at different times, Killian had come to bed every night. No late night storms, no pacing, no self-flagellation for something he had no control over.
And she kind of liked having to untangle herself from him to get out of bed.
"Killian's been getting better," Emma said finally. "Our schedules… not so much."
The smile on Ruby's face was downright wicked. "Ah, so you were in here fantasizing."
"No! Well. Kind of." She felt overly warm and Ruby started to snicker. "Not really, I just… We had a really nice morning last week and the entire world has been conspiring against us from doing anything else." Emma sighed. "Spring's been hard for him and it felt like there was this thing between us that forced us apart. Like a rut or something. And, I don't know, something just happened last week where he was finally like 'hey, I've been kind of a dick, let me make it up to you', y'know?"
"With his dick."
"Why do I even talk to you?"
"Sorry, sorry. Continue."
Emma pushed her hair back over her shoulder. "Well, to be brief about it, it was a pretty great make-up session and we had a nice morning, a blip with his advisor aside. And we haven't been able to do anything since and I just miss him."
In one of the rare moments they'd been able to talk face-to-face, Killian had told her that he'd scheduled his next meeting with Dr. Bhavsar. More than anything else, she may have been a little more glum about the fact that he was leaving for that meeting tomorrow and it might be another day or two before he could get back. But she didn't want Ruby to think she was a complete sap.
"Why not just go see him at the bar?" Ruby asked. Emma opened her mouth to protest, but Ruby held up her hand. "No, I'm serious. You and me, we'll go together. And we'll bring Mary Margaret, since David's on schedule for tonight, and I know she's dying to get out of the house for a little bit."
"She's a million months pregnant."
"She'll be fine," Ruby insisted, "and you know whatever fuss Liam will try to kick up about you distracting Killian at work will go out the window because he'll be all responsible and making sure Mary Margaret's comfortable."
Emma wanted to argue, she really did, but the way Ruby had phrased it, 'distracting Killian at work', sent some gears into motion. She pursed her lips, pretending to think about it, then nodded. "All right, sure. But I've got a condition on this plan."
As it turned out, Mary Margaret was more than eager to get out of the house for the night. Even over the phone, Emma could hear David's mild protesting in the background, but they agreed it would be good for her to get out and have fun with friends before the baby came. And since they weren't going very far, Mary Margaret felt comfortable playing designated driver.
After work, Ruby and Emma split to go get ready for their night out; the plan was for Ruby and Mary Margaret to come pick her up last. That worked perfectly, because it had been a while since Emma had had to actually put serious effort into her 'going out' look and she needed the extra time to be able to have a minor panic attack about everything.
But her hair curled just fine and she didn't forget how to do the perfect smokey eyeshadow look, and the form-fitting red dress she'd bought on sale last year still fit great, so she felt about as ready as she could possibly be for a public seduction of her boyfriend.
The bar wasn't really busy, which was both a blessing and a curse for Emma's plan. Part of her hoped things would pick up over the next hour or so, and part of her thought if it stayed pretty dead then it might mean less glaring or thinly veiled accusations from Liam, but then she caught sight of Killian staring at her in a sort of stunned disbelief and decided it didn't really matter anyway.
Everything would happen according to plan and she'd happily tell Liam to go fuck himself if he said anything about it.
"Go get 'im tiger," Ruby hissed in her ear and then she and Mary Margaret went to claim a table for them.
Emma's back straightened and walked in a confident way that made her hips sway; Killian's mouth fell open a little and his eyes were practically glued to her sky-high heels. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and she leaned over the bar a little, the low cut of her dress giving him an eyeful. "Hey," she said. "I heard this was a pretty good place to get a drink in town."
"Emma, you are trying to kill me," Killian muttered, absolutely staring down her dress.
She tilted her head to the side. "Sorry, have we met somewhere?" she asked, and his eyes snapped up to hers in confusion. She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Me and my friends are just passing through," she continued. "But we've been in the car so long we just really needed to stretch our legs and find out what all this little town has to offer."
Killian's eyebrow ticked up as he understood her game; something in his whole body, his entire demeanor, shifted as he decided to play along and it sent a thrill through her to see him rise up and take her bait. "I see. Well, far be it from me to deny three beautiful women some of our good ol' Southern hospitality."
Emma grinned at his terrible Southern accent. Hers was no better. "Well, shucks, mister, that's awful kind of you."
He shook his head, a wide grin split across his own face, and picked up a few glasses. "So, what can I do you for?"
Oh you can do me alright, she thought, but placed an order to get them started. While he worked on mixing some drinks, he asked her name and after their reasons for 'traveling'; Emma decided to go with her real name and then tossed out a few fake answers. Something about getting Mary Margaret home to her mother before she had the baby and a road trip all in one, something none of them would ever risk and if only because Eva now lived six blocks from here, instead of in Dallas where Mary Margaret had grown up. Killian was nice enough to add a pineapple and cherry garnish to the "pineapple rum slush" he'd made for her (which was really just pineapple juice, a little seltzer for the zing, and blended up with some ice) before putting Emma's beer and Ruby's Long Island on a tray with it. "Fruit's good for the baby, even if a bar isn't," he said, winking as he slid the tray to her.
Emma smiled, picking it up easily from years of experience. "I'll remind her of that, thanks. You, uh, are you working all night?"
"I'll be around," he said slinging a washrag over his shoulder. "If you find you need a refill, Miss Swan, just ask for Killian."
She gave a sultry smile and said, "I will," before walking back to the table with that sway in her hips and knowing without looking that he was staring at her ass.
"I was ninety percent sure he would just haul you over the bar," Ruby said when Emma put the tray on the table.
"I thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head," Mary Margaret said, taking a sip from her drink. "Oh, this is really good."
"He caught on pretty quick, so I think it'll be a fairly successful evening," Emma said, glancing over her shoulder towards the bar. "And he said to eat the fruit for the baby."
Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. "I swear to God, between him and David, this kid's going to be an Olympic athlete before he can walk. Healthy food this, nutrients that. If I hear the words 'folic acid' one more time I'm going to scream."
Ruby and Emma shared a glance, then chorused, "Folic acid," and were immediately rewarded with a growled shriek before Mary Margaret bit into the pineapple slice.
"So," Ruby said, stirring her drink. "Bets on how long it takes before David shows up as part of a 'routine walk-through'?"
The next couple of hours went by in a bit of a blur; despite the fact that Emma would get up to get refills and ramp up the flirting between her and Killian, she also just felt herself relaxing from hanging out with her friends and catching up a bit. The last time they'd gotten to really hang out was months ago, after Emma and Killian had moved into the house and before the baby shower. All of the baby and life updates Emma got were from David, and though she worked with Ruby, both of them tended to get sucked into whatever it was they were working on and didn't have time to dive in and really chat.
So it was going to be a good night for multiple reasons.
The second of which was about to happen, if Emma could play her cards right.
She went up to get another drink refill; she hadn't seen Liam yet, which probably meant he was the one cooking tonight and that was just fine with her. There was one other person working the front with Killian and it was slow enough that he'd probably take her up on her suggestion if she could figure out how to word it right.
But Killian, it seemed, wanted to turn the tables on her.
"Ah, can't get enough of me, can you?" he asked, taking the glasses from her and putting ready-made refills on her tray.
"Look at you anticipating my needs," she teased. "Someone's looking to make a pretty big tip tonight."
"Anything I can get from a beautiful lass such as yourself I'll count as a blessing, love," he said, and pressed something into her hand before she could move back from the bar.
Emma's eyebrow went up, but he was walking over to take care of a customer on the other side of the bar before she could venture any clever pick-up lines about tips. Shrugging to herself, she went back to the table and set the tray down before looking at what he'd given her.
Back office. Five minutes.
A note scribbled on a napkin, how... Killian of him. Emma bit her lip, grinning, and tucked it under her drink. "I'm going to use the ladies room," she announced, getting up.
Mary Margaret toasted her and to Ruby's eternal credit she did not whoop or cheer as Emma went to the back hallway where the restrooms and the administrative office was. She did stop and use the bathroom quickly - she had been drinking, after all - and then ducked into the office before her time limit was up.
Not even a minute after she'd closed the door behind her, Killian strode in, locking the door behind him before seizing her by the shoulders and kissing the living daylights out of her. "You," he said between kissing her cheeks and along her jaw and down her neck, "are a bloody minx and are going to be the death of me."
Emma giggled as he latched on to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking a mark there; he slowly walked them backwards and when the backs of her thighs hit the desk he tried to get her to sit on it. His hands ran down her sides and then up again, squeezing her breasts and making her squirm with anticipation. "I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm really not," she said breathlessly. Instead of sitting, she gently pushed him back and indicated he go sit in the office chair. He looked at her in confusion and it only made her smile wider. "I came in here tonight with a plan, buddy, and there's no way you're going to derail that."
He raised an eyebrow with interest and sat at her behest, settling back to wait for what she had in mind. Emma wet her lips, propping one hand on her hip as she looked him over: his hair was sticking up from a gesture she knew well, the one where he gripped the front in frustration when a customer gave a complicated order; his lips were puffy and full from kissing her; his eyes roved over her body, drinking in her short dress and the way her shoes accented her calves.
She smirked.
"Now, do you remember when you were so very cruel to me," she said, sinking down to her knees in front of him, "and you denied me the chance to suck you off?" Emma watched him swallow hard as she ran her hands up his jean-clad thighs. "And then, to make matters worse, you got me all riled up again and just... sent me off to work?"
She palmed the now very apparent bulge at his crotch, watching his jaw work as he struggled not to cry out. Her fingers rested on his belt buckle and she met his eyes with hers. "I asked you a question, Killian."
His eyes widened and she saw his pupils were blown out, a combination of arousal and the dim lighting in the room. "Yes," he said, his voice raspy.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I remember denying you. Twice."
She smiled; they'd played a similar game to this before and he was very good at remembering the rules. "Good." She lightly squeezed his cock through his jeans and he groaned, his hips bucking up into her hand. "Do you remember what else you did to me that day?"
His Adam's apple bobbed and a jolt of desire shot through her. "N-no," he said.
She squeezed his cock harder and he gasped, just on the edge of a whine, his back arching off the chair a little when she didn't let up. "Now, Killian, what have we said about lying?" Emma asked, arching an eyebrow.
When he didn't answer she tried another tactic, sliding her hand up his shirt and tracing her nails across his stomach. His muscles twitched under her fingers and she bit back a smile. "Good boys don't lie," Killian rasped finally and she lightly stroked his stomach in approval.
"So you do remember what you did?"
He nodded as her fingers traced the waist of his jeans. "I sent you pictures. I made myself come and sent you photos of it."
Emma licked her lips, thinking fondly of those photos. "I had to spend that whole day thinking about what you did to me in bed that morning, waking me up with your mouth on me, making me come with just your tongue. Thinking about the way you fucked me." She stroked his cock, loving how with every act she mentioned he breathed harder, as if he was holding himself back from repeating all of it right here on the floor of the office. "I'd finally gotten myself under control, and then my phone goes off, and I find out that I have a little treat waiting for me. All of that, and then I was stuck in my office all day, dripping wet, and couldn't do a damn thing about it.
"Worse, we haven't seen each other for more than five minutes to do something about it."
Killian opened his mouth, probably to protest, but she shushed him with a finger. "Oh, don't worry, I took care of myself," Emma said, still stroking him through his jeans. His nostrils flared. "Oh yeah, a few times while you were working late, I got myself all worked up again and had to get myself off."
"Emma-"
"So," she continued, as if he hadn't interrupted, "since you denied me twice, teased me, and left me to take care of myself, I'm going to finish teasing you and take what's mine twice. You're going to sit here and watch me take it, and then you're going to walk out that door and go back to work like nothing happened, alright?"
His jaw worked again and then he nodded. "Yes."
Killian sat back, watching her intently as she deftly undid his belt buckle and freed his cock from his jeans. Emma licked her lips, then held his eyes with her own as she took the head of his cock into her mouth.
His eyelids fluttered as she started to suck, but she squeezed the base of his cock with one hand to remind him that she wanted him to watch.
This wasn't the first time she'd given him a blowjob in this office, but it still thrilled her and turned her on every time they managed to sneak away from their (his) responsibilities and take a little time for themselves between their hectic schedules. Many of their trysts throughout their relationship had been quickies in the alley behind the bar or in this office when he'd gotten off work and they knew it would be their only time for ages to have any alone time together.
She'd kind of been hoping moving in together would fix that, but apparently not.
Emma took her hand away and took as much of his cock in her mouth as she could fit. Killian made a strangled sort of noise as she swallowed and hollowed out her cheeks as she pulled away. Taking him in hand again, she ran her tongue up the side of the shaft, watching as he struggled to keep his composure, and then swirled her tongue around the head again and again. She lapped at his slit, tasting the salty precum, and smiled to herself when she felt him pulse in her hand. He wasn't close, not yet, but he was definitely getting there.
She took his hand and guided him to grip her hair. She loved it when he guided her through sucking him off. She felt herself getting wetter as he took over, his grip on her hair just tight enough to send sparks of pleasure shooting through her body, and she moaned around him as her head bobbed up and down on his cock.
His hips jerked again and she tried not to gag as he unexpectedly hit too deep. "Sorry," he rasped.
"S'okay," she said when she came up for air.
Her jaw needed a bit of a rest but her hand kept stroking him, listening for each hitch in his breathing as she found all of those little, secret spots of pleasure around the head of his cock. His hand still in her hair, he kept massaging around the back of her neck just the way she liked and Emma felt like melting into the floor. "Getting there?" she asked.
He nodded. "Wanna come inside you," he said, his breath hitching again as she squeezed just right and popped the ridge.
She grinned, slowly, and his eyes widened again. "Good thing that's just what I had in mind," she said, and let go of him.
He made a whining noise as she stood but she ignored him. She yanked up her dress, smiling as she heard him inhale sharply, and dropped her panties, stepping out of them lightly. She dangled them on one finger in front of his face; he stared at her like she was some sort of hallucination, a creature out of his wildest dreams, and her core clenched at the thought. She let them fall onto his chest and went to the wall, bracing herself against it. She coyly glanced at him over her shoulder. "You gonna do something about this or not?" she asked.
Killian scrambled to his feet, her underwear falling to the floor, forgotten, and his own pants falling around his ankles. "You're not real," he said, kicking her feet apart roughly. Emma bit her lip as he gripped her hips and palmed her ass, lightly smacking her and then running his fingers through her slick folds. She shivered, more arousal dripping down and covering his fingers. "I dreamed you up, I had to have. There's no way this is real."
"Fuck me and find out," she said and felt the head of his cock brush against her inner thighs.
His hand moved away and then he nudged her entrance. She bent over a little more and he took her in one smooth stroke. "Fuck," she whispered, the stretch and burn exactly what she'd been wanting.
His fingers on her thighs gripped hard enough to bruise but she didn't care; she'd wear them proudly. He thrust into her hard and fast, the slide of his cock inside of her sex making her tingle from head to toe with pleasure. Her legs would feel like jelly after and the heels would be the most stupid wardrobe choice ever, but right now they gave her the perfect height to let Killian slam his cock into her over and over again. Emma groaned deep in her throat and reached down to rub her clit; she knew he had to be close after her attention to him earlier and she wanted more than anything to come with him, but his hand slapped hers out of the way. "Mine," he growled and the spike of arousal she felt at his possessiveness outranked anything else she could have done to him tonight.
His fingers were rough on her sensitive clit but she needed it. She reached back and grasped at his hip. "Please," she chanted, and he grunted, leaning over her back and driving his cock into her, if at all possible, even harder.
She'd been wired practically since setting foot inside the bar, the way he'd watched her stroll up to him with his mouth agape making her feel sexy and powerful. Her legs quivered as he pressed his fingers against her clit. The way he'd given himself up to her as 'punishment' for his naughty behavior had only heightened that and turned her on; she loved to watch him submit to her, just as he loved when she did the same for him. The needy, desperate grunts in her ear pushing her closer and closer to the edge. And this, a quickie in the back room before either of them could be missed, just turned her on more. The need to be quiet fighting the desire to scream her pleasure to the world - let everyone know just how fucking good Killian Jones was and how he was hers-
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she came, wave after wave of pleasure cresting through her body, and she buried her face against her arm to muffle her moans. She was dimly aware of Killian's jerky movements behind her as he came, too, her own orgasm squeezing him dry as they fell together.
Emma winced when he pulled out of her, not expecting how sore she'd feel, but it was absolutely worth it. She straightened slowly, her movements languid and feeling a little fuzzy with the haze of pleasure left over after her orgasm, and was rewarded with seeing Killian wiping the sweat from his face with the bottom of his shirt. She wet her lips again, eyes trailing down the hairy expanse of his stomach down to where his cock was slowly softening again. Killian caught her eye and smirked before pulling his shirt over his head. She watched him, confused, before he pulled a spare shirt out of a filing cabinet and pulled it on. "I'll say I spilled something on the other one," he said, winking.
She watched him pull up his pants and awkwardly scrunched her dress back down into place, slightly regretting the tightness of it. "I won't tell where you really spilled something," Emma said, feeling his come dripping down her thighs and making a note to stop in the bathroom again.
She went to grab her panties, but Killian got there first. He dangled them in front of her face, not unlike the way she had to him, before stuffing them into his pocket. "I think I'll hang on to these," he said, grinning.
She gaped. "You're such a jerk," she said, only slightly kidding - she really wasn't looking forward to spending the rest of the evening without underwear, not when she wasn't sure how much of herself she could clean up before returning to the table.
"A souvenir of our tryst, if you will," Killian said, leaning over and kissing her cheek.
"Still a jerk."
He kissed her lips next and she moaned, cupping his cheek as he slipped his tongue between her lips. His arms went around her waist and pulled her snug against him, his hands warm on her hips and his fingers pressing soothing patterns against her. "Love you," he said softly when they parted.
"Love you too," she said.
He winked as he unlocked the door and left her with wobbly legs and sticky thighs. Jerk distracted me with kisses to make me forget he has my underwear, she thought, glad that the bathroom was just across the hall. She just hoped she wouldn't leave a wet spot on the back of her dress, she didn't have anything to cover it with if -
His shirt.
She'd had a terrible habit of stealing Killian's shirts before they moved in together, enough that he'd actually found shirts in her dresser that he'd forgotten he ever owned. She liked using them to sleep in, letting the mixed scent of laundry detergent and Killian soothe her to sleep. Having the real thing in bed next to her helped curb that particular habit, but it wouldn't be so unusual if she came away with one of his Pour House shirts.
She snatched it up and slipped into the bathroom, cleaning herself up as best she could with the limited supplies at hand. She waited a bit more until she felt like she'd done as much as she could to limit any potential leakage, then did a quick spin in front of the mirror to make sure there wasn't any evidence on her dress. Then, to make the quick story she'd concocted in her head more plausible, she slipped the shirt on over her dress, feeling some tension leave her shoulders as she breathed in Killian's scent. It hung long on her, long enough to cover her ass if she tugged on it, so Emma exited the small bathroom with no small amount of satisfaction that everything had gone according to plan.
And promptly ran straight into Liam.
"Shit, fuck-" Emma blindly reached for the door frame, or the wall, or anything to keep her from falling on her ass.
"Emma." Liam reached out and steadied her, but there was a tone of foreboding in his voice that put her on edge. "You look…"
He drifted off, as if he wasn't sure how rude he was going to be about her attire. She glanced down: yes, the maroon of The Pour House t-shirt she wore clashed with the red of her dress, but in all fairness the skirt of her dress was so short that it almost didn't matter. Looking up at him, she raised an eyebrow. "Is there something wrong with how I'm dressed, Liam?"
His lips flattened slightly. "I just wasn't aware that the latest trend was an obscenely short skirt and a mismatched shirt on top."
Of all the things he could have said, this was hardly anything of note. "Killian said my dress was distracting," she said offhandedly. "I'd think you'd be proud that he'd give me something to cover up with."
"Yes," Liam said, and she knew immediately that he saw right through her. "Which is how I know that's not quite how you came to acquire the same shirt he came in wearing tonight."
Shit. "How would you even know that?" Emma countered.
He waved his hand. "There's a bit of a bleach stain near the collar, he only wears that one when he's annoyed with me." It was Emma's turn to frown. Who knew Liam Jones was actually Sherlock Holmes? "I also find it interesting that you came in wearing that," he continued, gesturing to her dress, or at least what little of it he could see, "knowing that he'd be gone for the next few days."
Emma pursed her lips, doing her best to keep a lid on her temper when it came to Liam and his opinions of her relationship with Killian. "And I find it interesting that you still don't understand anything about what goes on between me and Killian."
He chuckled mirthlessly. "Oh, I know far too much about what goes on between you and my brother. Such as the little incident last week when your rules kept him from going out to chase, causing him to miss a definite hook-echo and a confirmed tornado."
Her jaw actually ached from clenching it. "He didn't know for sure until late, and there's no guarantee he'd even have caught up with it in time-"
"But we'll never know that for sure, will we?"
"No, which makes your argument twice as stupid. We already talked it over, Liam, like an actual couple in an actual relationship, and we both apologized. So I'd appreciate it if you didn't go digging up dead horses to keep beating on them."
He shook his head. "We'll see. He might not be able to graduate with all the data he's missed, his advisor might hold him back again. It would be too bad, really. He's all hopeful about finalizing his dissertation-"
"God dammit, Liam, I know why he's going to Norman," she snapped, her restraint on her temper snapping. He was only being flippant to piss her off at this point, and she hated that it was working. "I'm the one who told him he should go. I live with him. I see how frustrated he is every single day, he needs to talk to someone who knows what the hell he's talking about when he talks about isobars or CAPEs or instability indices."
Liam's face clouded. "Then you know very well he needs to focus on what he needs to talk about when he goes!"
Emma scoffed. "Right, because he gets a lot of time to stop and ponder the mysteries of meteorology while he's tending bar. I completely forgot his workstation is back there and he can run experiments in between pulling pints. Please, if you really thought that then he'd have tonight off and we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"No, we wouldn't," Liam said, agreeing with her for once. "Because if he had been at home, you two would have done whatever it is you did to foul up my office in your own home and he wouldn't have any blood left in his brain to think about anything at all. He'd go into his meetings tomorrow without a clue of what to talk about because all his energy had been wasted in fucking you." Emma's mouth dropped open in stunned shock. "At least here he might have had a chance to think without you lurking about distracting him, but I suppose we don't live in a perfect world."
To her eternal embarrassment, she realized her eyes were stinging with tears. Liam had never really approved of them, but this stung worse for some reason. "No, we don't live in a perfect world," she said, giving herself a moment to make sure her voice wasn't shaking. "If we did, you'd understand that not everyone was a goddamn robot like you, without emotional wants or needs."
She turned and marched off towards the table before Liam could get another word in. She signaled to Ruby and Mary Margaret that she was leaving, and barely made it outside before she finally let those tears fall.
Three years ago…
It became a weekly thing, Ruby and Emma going out to the bar; Emma found it was more comfortable after she invited David, the other rookie at the department, to join them. She didn't feel like the lone cop hanging out and spying on people, and she had someone to talk shop with if Ruby got to chatting up someone else. And she liked David; he wasn't that much older but had the kind of passion for corny jokes and doling out tidbits of wisdom that she imagined the father she'd never had might.
The tidbits of wisdom grew less wise and even less coherent the more he drank, and with Ruby to ply him with more of those craft beers he liked so much, they heard more of those than the good ones.
"Please tell me you've got insurance for dart injuries," Emma said one night as she took a seat at the bar. It was her turn to refresh everyone and she was more than happy to get away from David trying to play darts over in the corner. It didn't help that there was a new girl joining them tonight, a teacher at the elementary school named Mary Margaret, and David thought this might impress her.
"I'll have to ask Liam," Killian said, watching the game with impish interest. "I don't know if that falls under liability or health."
Emma leaned on the bar, glancing over her shoulder and smiling at the scene: David trying to throw straight, thinking he'd landed it, looking expectantly at Mary Margaret, who - as she should - was looking at him like he was a few crayons short of a box. "If it gets much worse, I can stop it for drunk and disorderly conduct. Or just like, for his own good."
"Ah, Officer Swan in action, be still my heart," Killian said, and she knew from his tone he was only half-joking.
This was another thing that had become a semi-weekly occurrence. Despite their somewhat awkward first encounter, Emma definitely picked up on the fact that Killian was into her. And he wasn't weird about it - he smiled and flirted, gave her a free shot or two (usually with Liam glaring in the background), and none of their interactions gave her any indication that he expected anything in return. She'd watched him a bit with other customers, and yeah, he definitely flirted - to pull in tips. But there wasn't anything behind it, no heat or whatever; when it was just the two of them, Emma definitely felt like he was laying on a bit of charm.
But it was charm without expectations. Which was… kind of refreshing, honestly.
So she flirted back. Not all the time, just a little to let him know she was kind of, sort of, maybe interested. Which she was, she just… also wasn't sure if it was appropriate. And she didn't know who to ask about it. It was really more of an ethical thing than anything else, abuse of power or whatever, but it had enough pull to make her hesitant about giving him anything more than an inch.
"Easy, Jones, I left the handcuffs in my locker," Emma said, taking the offered glass of water.
"Pity, that."
She snorted, spraying water up into her face, and Killian tossed a hand towel at her while trying his best not to laugh (which was a piss-poor effort if it was his best). Emma glared at him over the towel, throwing it in his face when she was done. "You're the worst," she told him.
"I'm simply a man who knows what he likes, love."
Yeah well, I didn't need that image in my head, she thought, glad that she was sober enough to keep that particular thought to herself. She heard him chuckle, though, which is how she knew the warmth in her cheeks wasn't just from the crowded room or the alcohol she'd already drank.
She let him get back to work, if for no other reason than both Ruby and Mary Margaret had taken some not so subtle looks in her direction to see what she was up to. She waved the next time Ruby glanced over, then laughed at how Mary Margaret had apparently decided to show David what, exactly, was up and kick his ass at darts.
To his credit, none of this seemed to make David any less determined to flirt with her; and to her credit, Mary Margaret seemed to be into whatever that whole wobbly side-lean thing was that David had going for him right now.
Ruby looked torn between amusement and a need to vomit. Emma didn't blame her.
A tray nudged her elbow; Emma looked back, a little surprised to see Liam putting her orders on it. "Be careful with him, will you?" Liam asked, digging for a bottle under the bar.
"Who, David? I'm not the one you've gotta warn for that," Emma said, digging in her pocket for her money clip.
Liam side-eyed her. "I'm not talking about Officer Nolan; I'm talking about my brother."
She raised an eyebrow at that, wondering if maybe she had drank too much after all. There were a few possibilities at his meaning, but she couldn't really figure out what he was referring to or why he might bring it up now. The orders placed, Liam stood back, arms crossed over his chest in what was probably supposed to be an intimidating way, staring her down. "I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about," she said finally.
Let him make himself clear, then remove yourself from the situation.
She laid a couple of bills down on the counter while he continued to glower at her. "Killian," Liam said, as if that had been the cryptic part. "He thinks he's all smitten with you. Well, be careful how you tread with him, Officer Swan. He's come too far to mess anything up now; he's too close to being done with his research and doesn't need any distractions."
Both of Emma's eyebrows shot up, her mouth going slack at the accusation that she was just playing around, that she had no regard for how Killian would feel if anything were to happen between them.
Though, a part of her stung where Liam had gotten a bit too close to the truth, that she was just playing around. She wasn't playing around, though. Killian was a grown-ass man flirting with a grown-ass woman who decided to flirt back sometimes. They were both adults who could make their own decisions in this, Liam be damned.
Whatever 'this' was.
"Seems like there's two people in this mix, Jones," Emma said finally. "So why is it you're only talking to one of them?"
She picked up her tray and left before he could answer, silently fuming. Her return to the table was met with cheers and she took a hearty swig of her beer to wash the taste of that encounter from her mouth.
Still, despite how entertaining Mary Margaret and David's absurd flirting was, Ruby seemed to pick up on the fact that Emma wasn't in the 'having fun' headspace anymore. "Okay, spill," she said, leaning in close over the small table. "I thought you and pretty boy were having a decent time up there but now you're really bringing the room down."
Emma rolled her eyes, taking another swig of her beer. "It's not pretty boy that's the problem," she said, feeling sour.
She repeated what had happened when Liam came to fill their orders, trying not to let her own hurt feelings stain the encounter; but Ruby was Ruby and you could never hide anything from her for too long. When Emma finished, Ruby was sending death glares Liam's way; her eyeliner and dark red lipstick only served to make her look more menacing and Emma was suddenly very glad that Ruby was one of her best friends. "He's slut-shaming you," she said, her sharp eyes snapping back to Emma's. "Without the... y'know, actual sleeping together part."
Well, that explained why Emma felt so irritated. "God, like Killian never looked twice at a woman before. Unless this guy has given the whole 'you're a distraction' speech to everyone who's ever dared to flirt with his brother before."
"He'd be hella busy if that was the case."
"You did not just say 'hella'."
Ruby grinned, reaching across the table and shoving Emma. "Seriously, though, Liam can be kind of an asshole. Personally, I think he needs to get laid, get that stick out of his ass-"
"Ruby."
"I'm trying, he's just not biting!"
"Not what I meant."
Ruby rolled her eyes. "Well, anyway, he's kind of an ass. And I'm sure there's some big brotherly concern there. And, to be fair, you did threaten Killian the first time you met him."
Emma scoffed, picking up her pint. "To prove a point. And because he was being kind of an ass." She paused, letting the rim of the glass rest against her chin as she thought. Maybe Ruby would have some kind of insight. "Though... I guess it just kinda stung about the playing around part. I'm not sure if I could date Killian, if it came to that."
"So you're thinking about it?" Ruby sounded way too interested in this possibility.
"Stop it," Emma warned. "Floating possibilities. But the fact that I did meet him because of a police call kind of... it feels weird. And I'm not sure if I should even consider anything if any part of this doesn't make me feel one hundred percent okay. Does that sound too, I don't know, priggish?"
Ruby held up a finger and downed the rest of her martini. She set the glass down and speared the olive, using it to point at Emma. "Okay, one, no one says 'priggish', so cut that from your vocabulary. Two, very few things make you feel one hundred percent okay with taking part in them; those things are massages that you're using a gift card to pay for, and an orgasm with a vibrator."
"Why an-"
"Because there's no messy human attached to the other end, and no one knows what you like better than you," Ruby explained in such a way that led Emma to believe this wasn't the first time she'd used this particular example. "You're supposed to take risks when it comes to meeting other people, because other people in general are just a huge risk. Is it your soulmate or a serial killer whose gonna use your femur in his coffee in the morning?"
Emma winced. "Ruby. Gross."
"But plausible," she said, sticking the olive in her mouth. "And three, it's not that weird to date someone you met during a work thing, even if the work thing wasn't completely on the straight and narrow. You didn't arrest him, you roughed him up a bit with words. It turned out to be a misunderstanding. It would be different if this was like, good cop shacking up with drug lord, but it's not. This isn't Detroit, this is Storybrooke. We don't have a lot going on here."
Emma sighed. As much as Ruby had a point, she still couldn't quite resolve that in her gut. "I'm still gonna talk to Graham about it," she said finally, taking another drink. "I don't want to find the one thing that's completely loophole proof."
"Nothing is completely loophole proof," Ruby said.
"The one thing that's completely Ruby-proof."
The other woman grinned and raised her empty glass in a mocking toast. Emma inclined her head and took a hefty swig of beer, just as Mary Margaret whooped nearby. "Bullseye!"
They tabled the discussion on Emma's theoretical love life and she really did try to enjoy the rest of their evening. She and Mary Margaret teamed up in doubles against Ruby and David; and considering she carried the entire team, Ruby held up very well on her own. David, despite his best intentions, only wound up putting more holes in Liam's walls and loudly declared the other team was cheating by moving the board on him.
It was around that time that Emma declared it was time to go home. "You're gonna get more drunk and then more disorderly, and we're having too a nice time for me to arrest you," she said, easing David away from the darts and towards the door.
"I'm a police officer, you can't arrest me," he said.
She hummed. "Yeah, no, that's not how it works in my book."
"Is your book the law?" David asked, slurring more. "Because my book is the law and my book is better than your book."
She tried her best to keep a straight face but kept snickering. Mary Margaret wasn't entirely sober herself but she still rolled her eyes as she picked up her purse. Ruby, who'd drunk more than either of the other women, looked fresh as a daisy and moved easily on her heels. "Come on, Officer Nolan, let's get you back home before the chief hears about this."
She led the way through the crowd, leaving Emma and Mary Margaret to guide David in her wake. Once outside, Emma shivered slightly; it was the end of June, but after being in the stifling bar all night the temperature shift was a shock. There was a rumble of thunder in the distance that told her it would get even cooler, and it only made her move faster - the last thing she wanted was to get caught in the rain trying to get a drunk man home.
"Swan!"
Emma paused in the street, turning slightly. Killian hurried out the door to catch up to them. "Liam's going to kill you for leaving early," Ruby pointed out, the next crack of thunder in the distance seeming to put emphasis on her words.
Killian waved his hand as if brushing the notion off; Emma thought she had a point but kept that to herself. "It's just for a moment and then it'll be as if I never left. Do you mind if I speak to Emma for a moment?"
She could practically hear Ruby's eyebrows go up, but it was Mary Margaret who spoke. "Ruby, help me get David down to the corner; he can lean on the telephone pole. Emma, we'll wait over there, okay?"
Emma nodded, grateful that they'd stay nearby enough to wait but not to eavesdrop, and then she was left standing in the middle of the road with Killian. She shifted her weight, crossing and uncrossing her arms as she tried to make herself feel a little less visible, a little less exposed like this. "So… what's up?" she asked finally.
He was looking at her with an expression she couldn't pin down to one emotion: a mix of hope, wistfulness, determination, maybe a little bit of fear. The next rumble of thunder sounded closer; the storm was rolling in, and he seemed to stand up straighter with it. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as she put the pieces together for what was about to happen. "Swan, I- I was hoping you might like to join me for dinner one night. Friday. Or Saturday, or… I'm afraid I don't know what the chief has you scheduled for, but perhaps we could come to some kind of agreement?"
"Killian-"
"Look, I know Liam's already tried to warn you off." Emma blinked at that; maybe this wasn't the first time Liam had pulled that particular stunt, or maybe he'd taken her jab to heart and talked to Killian too. "He's got it in his head that it's his job to keep me on the path, especially when it comes to girls. But I'm asking you to tell my dear brother to piss off and just come to dinner. Please."
Her lips pursed. The wind picked up a little, blowing some hair in her face. She reached up and tucked it behind her ear, glad for another moment to compose herself. "I'm not gonna lie. Liam didn't scare me, but he sure did piss me off," she said.
Killian winced, a streak of lightning throwing him into sharp relief. "Bloody hell… I'm sorry for him, truly. My last… well, I don't want to get into it, but my last relationship didn't go well at all and Liam seemed to take it more personally."
She still stung from earlier, and the looming conversation she'd decided to have about it with Graham stuck out in her mind. But she didn't particularly care for the thought of leaving Killian out to dry just because he had an overprotective ass for a brother or she had possible ethical conflicts. "I… I have to think about it," she said finally. "It's not Liam, it's… it's other stuff."
He seemed to deflate a little. "I see."
The wind ruffled his hair and she felt terrible for how pitiful he looked in that moment. "It's not that- Look, I want to," she said, admitting it to herself even as she verbalized it to him. "I do, it's just… weird, because of how we met. And I don't know if that's allowed, and I just don't- I just want to make sure we're on even ground first, okay?"
And just as quickly as she'd felt awful a moment before, it made her warm to see how much that little explanation seemed to brighten him up. "So you have to, what, clear it with an ethics committee?"
Emma winced as lightning flashed overhead and thunder rolled in hard on its heels. Dear God, she hoped not. "No, probably just have to check with my boss. I hope. I've never done this before."
"This?" he asked, his eyebrow quirking with interest.
"Gone out with a potential felon," she deadpanned.
Something in him shifted as he slid his hands into his own pockets, swaying into her personal space; that flirtatious air was back, the crooked grin and the raised eyebrow, and Emma had to actually bite the inside of her lip to keep from giggling. "Well, Officer Swan, rest assured that in the event that you do have to arrest me, I have every intention of cooperating with your requests and, ah, coming quietly."
Emma winced again, this time from just how awful that joke was, and covered her face. Killian barked a laugh, the sound carrying on the wind. "Here," he said, and she saw him pull his hand out of his pocket, holding something. "Call me, will you? Or text. When you have an answer?"
His number was scribbled on a napkin. As she reached to take it, he caught her hand in his grasp and pulled it up to his lips, brushing a kiss on her knuckles. The world seemed to stop in that instant, his lips lingering against her skin, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her eyes met his and held, each searching the other, and she wondered what would happen if she said 'yes' right now. "Think about it," he said, his breath warm on the back of her hand.
Goosebumps rippled up her arm and down her back and heat burned in her cheeks. "I… okay," she said softly.
Killian grinned, but it wasn't cocky or triumphant - no, it was just happy, and maybe a little bit relieved. "Okay," he said, punctuating it with a little chuckle of disbelief.
He let her go, the napkin with his number crumpled in her fist, and they stepped back from each other, matching silly grins on their faces. The wind picked up again and more thunder made itself known, reminding them both of the urgency to get inside and breaking most of the reluctance to leave. Killian turned back towards the bar, and Emma turned towards her friends, but at the curb she looked back; he lingered in the door, watching her go, and he raised a hand in farewell before ducking inside.
As she caught up with the others, a small smile still playing on her lips, she barely heard Ruby ask what he'd wanted to discuss. She only wanted to replay that moment over and over again in her mind, try to memorize how he looked when he was bent over her hand, the way his lips felt against her skin.
She was fucked and she hadn't even agreed to - hadn't even found out if she could - go out with him.
She just shook her head, hoping that would be enough to deter Ruby, but that damn smile wouldn't go away. And at any rate, Ruby wasn't one to be deterred. Emma just pulled her hand out of her pocket, still holding the napkin, and held it up, still smiling, as her friends gasped and shouted their joy - all while poor David, leaning most of his weight on Mary Margaret, slurred his congratulations while trying to remember how his feet worked.
"Nothing's set in stone," Emma said, trying and failing to sound rational and calm.
"It'll be fine, Emma," Ruby declared. "Even if I have to forge Graham's signature on some made-up ethics paper he'll claim we have."
"Ruby-"
"No, Emma, I will not tell you how many times I've done that."
Emma rolled her eyes and slung one of David's arms over her shoulders. "It's probably better if I don't know, anyway."
"The tagline of our friendship, baby."
"Oh my God."
Later that night, after everyone had gotten safely home, Emma lay safely in her bed, staring at the numbers scrawled on paper. Her phone sat on her stomach, still warm from how she'd been gripping it and typed and retyped several messages before erasing all of it and giving up.
Just tell him hi.
No, that's stupid. He said to text or call when we had an answer.
He didn't specify if the answer was just a general 'yeah let's go out on Friday' or if it was if we're allowed to date him.
What if he takes it the wrong way?
It's Killian. He's just going to be happy to see something from you.
Emma huffed, annoyed at the argument spinning around and around in her head. She listened to the gentle rain on the street outside, to the wind making the house settle, to the leaves rustling in the trees just outside her open window.
She picked up her phone.
Hey. It's Emma. Just so you have my number or whatever. You're probably still at work. Have a good rest of your night.
There. Simple. Straight to the point, an exchange of numbers, telling him goodnight. Satisfied, she plugged the phone in and went about her routine to get ready for bed.
She slept soundly until her alarm went off two hours before her shift started, and when she managed to blindly find her phone to turn it off, she saw there was an unread message in her inbox.
Hello, Swan. Thanks for checking in. Boring rest of the night, fyi, not much fun without my favorite constable.
Emma told herself the dopey smile on her face was from how tired she still was, how she hadn't had a shower or coffee to properly wake up. She didn't respond, clicking the screen off and getting out of bed, stretching.
The next time she texted, she'd like to have an answer to give him.
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wildroseofarran · 6 years ago
Text
Three Stories || Lawrina, RoJ, Quintane, & Luke
MJ: MJ placed his head in Rohan's lap. His long, exaggerated yawn said more than a whine possibly could.
Rohan: Hands immediately went to MJ's hair. "My, my, my, what did the gods place on my lap this day?" he asked with a grin. "A tired vampire?"
MJ: "I'm bored. Teach me a new spell, beautiful witch."
Rohan: "Ah, a bored vampire! What would you like to learn? Something useful or something fun?"
MJ: "Teach me...how to turn water into wine," he grinned.
Rohan: Rohan chuckled. "Red or white?"
MJ: "What's your favorite?"
Rohan: "White."
MJ: "What kinda white? That uh...chardonnay?"
Rohan: "I do enjoy chardonnay, but I prefer pinot grigio. It's smoother."
MJ: "I don't really know any of that. So, let's try em all."
Rohan: "In that case, we're going to the nearest vineyard. Going to need to pick up some grapes."
MJ: "What. You're supposed t'be the vineyard!" he laughed.
Rohan: "I'm not as good at poofing up things as Xavier is!"
MJ: "I got a trick for ya. I gotta practice on someone anyway."
Rohan: "Oh?" Rohan ducked his head to kiss his vampire. "What trick?"
MJ: "Yeah, it-" MJ smiled into the kiss, seemed dazed for a heartbeat. "Uh, yeah. Do we have wine any - of course we have wine."
Time to get up.
"C'mon."
Rohan: "We're lousy with wine. We just can't steal Christine's, she'll hang us by our thumbs in the garden."
One more kiss and he would let MJ get up.
MJ: "Xavier has a shit ton. I know he does!"
Rohan: "And you're right. He has the most ridiculously huge wine cellar in North America."
MJ: "Well let's go down there n'steal some."
Rohan: "Borrow, puiule, borrow." He took MJ's hand and led him down to the basement.
MJ: "Yeah, sure. That word." His hand was given attention during their descent. Each pad of his fingers given their own little kiss.
Rohan: Rohan smiled at all the affection, taking the first opportunity to pull MJ into another kiss.
"Any particular kind of wine you want to borrow?"
MJ: "Nah. I don't care. Hey, c'mere." Those lips required more of his attention.
Rohan: He was only too happy to oblige, wrapping his arms around MJ's waist to keep him close. "You come here," he whispered against his vampire's lips, wine temporarily forgotten as he let himself get lost in this beautiful man.
MJ: Arms were made comfortable around Ronan's neck. The wine also forgotten by the man sighing into their kiss.
"You're so beautiful," he purred.
Rohan: Rohan hummed in response, kisses migrating to MJ's neck. "I'm no match for you, puiule."
MJ: "Don't be ridiculous." Oh, his neck. He was still sensitive enough to shiver, massaging the back of his neck.
Rohan: He smiled against his vampire's skin, nipping and kissing and nuzzling more, hoping to elicit more shivers. Maybe even one of those soft moans he loved so much.
MJ: Moans which were given freely. Both hands grasped softly at his hair, tugging and combing as a means to keep himself busy.
Rohan: There it is, Rohan thought to himself. He loved those sounds. Those gorgeous, sweet little sounds.
"Beautiful," he murmured, tugging MJ's shirt aside to feast on that lovely spot where MJ's neck met his shoulder. "I have half a mind to take you back to the bedroom."
MJ: "What if I take you in my mouth right here and now?" One hand to the back of his neck, the other reached to cup him. "Lemme have this."
Rohan: Rohan's answering chuckle tapered a soft, barely-there growl at the touch. "Is that what my vampire wants?" he asked, pressing into MJ's hand. "Because there's a very comfortable looking chair right over there we could make use of."
MJ: The growl would have caught his breath in his chest had he been able. What an unexpected sound from the witch. He felt compelled to fall to his knees, but he was right; there was a chair better suited for their activities. Rohan would be carried to it.
"What now, sir?"
Rohan: It was rare, but every time MJ called him 'sir', a special kind of warmth pooled in Rohan's belly. It was almost enough to make him growl again. Almost.
He kissed MJ again as he was taken to the chair, settling in comfortably and taking that beautiful face in his hands, holding him in place for more kisses. "Now, my vampire can take what he wants," he whispered.
MJ: "I gotta undress ya." He kissed him again. "Ya gonna let me, sir?" It hadn't taken long to figure out what that word did to the witch. He used it at every appropriate opportunity for their mutual pleasure. Never around company, of course. It was their own private fetish.
Rohan: This time he couldn't quite manage to keep in the growl, quiet as it was. It, too, would be something kept private between them, something they only indulged when they were in their little bubble.
"Of course I am, puiule." Another kiss, two. "Go as quickly or as slowly as you want."
MJ: "Tell me why ya call me that." Tell me while I undo your belt, your button and zipper. Let me hear your voice while I expose you to the cellar air, kiss and swallow you whole.
Rohan: "It's a Romanian term of endearment." Though Rohan's voice was soft and laced with affection as he watched MJ, his eyes were a different story. They were no less affectionate, no less soft, but they were alight with lust and anticipation. At least until the feeling of MJ's mouth around him closed them.
"It means baby, but simply calling you baby just wouldn't feel the same." His voice was breathier now. "Puiule holds more meaning." Puiule felt closer to his heart.
MJ: Puiule. He'd have to memorize other words for Rohan as a gift. Just thoughts while he sucked down and tickled scrotum. He worshipped this man as he believed he deserved. It was all just spontaneous lust...but something more. He knew Rohan loved him. He knew Victoria would never allow their romance to flourish.
His movements began to slow.
"D'ya wanna fuck me?"
Rohan: MJ's ministrations were rewarded with soft moans and jerky little movements of Rohan's hips as he slipped deeper and deeper into his blissful state. His vampire felt so good around him, so perfect. Rohan could spend hours with him like this and be completely content.
He was thinking about saying as much when he felt something...shift. It was subtle, but it was there.
He opened his eyes, instinctively caressing MJ's cheek with his thumb. "Only if it's what you want as well."
MJ: "I just want ya t'take me."
Rohan: Rohan sat up, bringing MJ in for a lingering kiss. "Let's go back up to the bedroom."
MJ: "Kay. One sec." He was still going to grab one of Rohan's favorites before they returned where they had began.
Rohan: He smiled as MJ grabbed the wine. Even in the heat of the moment, his vampire still thought of him.
Once he'd gotten himself at least halfway decent, he took MJ's hand and led him back up to the room and into their private little bubble, pulling MJ back into his arms the first chance he got.
………………………………………………………..
Q: Q Traxler turned once again to check on the man behind him. His blazer was undone and draped over Luke Graham's shoulders.
"You alright?"
Luke: Luke smiled, Q's gesture seeming to pull him out of his reverie. His mind felt like it was a thousand miles away.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just distracted."
Q: "We don't have to do this tonight if you don't want, babe."
Luke: "No, I do. I need a distraction from my distractions. They're all work related."
Q: "Which work? You're running yourself thin, you know. You sure you want a house party?"
Luke: "Law firm. Been mentally calculating how much of Ryder's workload I'm going to get once he goes on his honeymoon in a couple months." He stopped long enough to tug Q down for a kiss. "I'm sure. It's exactly what I need."
Q: Down he went, plenty content to give as many kisses as Luke required. "Then I'll give you what you need and then some when we get home," he winked. "Just keep Stacey at arm's length. She's a chatty Kathy."
Luke: That earned Q another smile, and another kiss. "Looking forward to it like you wouldn't believe."
"Pfft, don't have to tell me twice. Her two favorite questions to ask me are 'are you rich yet?' and 'are you sure you're gay?'."
Q: "She has an agenda against anything not straight. Hides it behind a sweet smile and "I swear I don't care" attitude."
Luke: "Makes her the worst kind of person. You know she's scared of Stella?" he added with a grin.
Q: "Is she really?" he laughed. "And you don't mind meeting my friend Tane?"
Luke: Luke nodded. "Yep. Stella can and has beaten people up in the past for giving me and Pete shit for liking men. It's a treat to watch."
"No, not at all. June said he's really tall and nice."
Q: "And handsome, and gay, and mature, and can hold his own, and his hugs are the best you'll ever get. Next to mine."
Luke: "He's gay and he has to work near Stacey? I should send the poor guy a condolence card." He chuckled. "They'd have to be pretty amazing to beat yours. You're my sexy teddy bear, remember?"
Q: That word won't belong to me after you meet him. I promise."
Luke: Another stop, another kiss. "We'll see about that, sugar."
……………………………………………………………………………………….
Lawrence: Lawrence Atlas checked his watch for the third time in less than five minutes. He paced towards the tea kettle and back to his account book on the dining table. A page flipped. Back to the kettle. Watch, book, kettle, repeat.
"How long is it until we see the results?" He already knew the answer, but he just wanted to hear it again.
Gina: Lawrence's pacing was making her nervous, but she knew she'd be even more nervous if she got up to pace with him. Better to just stay put and jiggle her leg.
"Just a couple minutes," said Gina. "Are you sure you don't want tea? You keep looking at the kettle."
Lawrence: "I do but I don't know if I want - I prefer coffee. Can you even drink that if you're - probably not. Right?"
Gina: Yes, good, something to do with her hands. "I'll make you coffee." She was already getting up before she'd finished the sentence.
"I can, just very small amounts." 200 milligrams if she remembered correctly. "So herbal tea for me. Chamomile I think."
Lawrence: "Gina." He took her hands and squeezed them. "Is this what you want? If the test comes out positive, are you ready for that?"
Gina: She took a deep breath. She'd been asking herself that very question since she realized she'd missed her period and there were two facts she knew for certain.
"I'm terrified, but...yes." Her voice softened to a whisper. "I think I am. What about you?"
Lawrence: "I...If you - if you're willing to be with me, despite what I am and how I - I came to be... Of course I'm ready."
Gina: Gina brought a hand to his cheek. "Who you are is Lawrence. My Lawrence, who I love. That's what matters to me. I couldn't even imagine being here right now or doing this without you."
Lawrence: "So..." After nearly an hour without, his smile returned. "We're gonna have a baby? Wait - Are we having a baby?" he laughed. "Check the stick-thing."
Gina: Seeing Lawrence smile made Gina relax enough to smile back. Hearing him say that just...
"Oh, lordy. Let's check the pee stick." She walked back over to the table and picked it up, taking a deep breath before looking down at the little screen.
".....Lawrence...."
Lawrence: Well, that was that. "What shall we name him or her? What if we have twins or triplets? Gotta think of multiple names. Colors for the -" the room. "What are...we gonna do with...the room?"
Gina: His questions just washed over her for a moment. She stared at the little window, vision going blurry with tears as she read the word 'pregnant' over and over. It was right there, written in plain English.
"It's going to be our baby's room," she whispered, finally looking up. Her eyes were swimming and her smile was as radiant as the sun. "Our baby. We're having a baby. Lawrence, we're having a baby!"
Lawrence: The more she said it, the brighter Lawrence's expression became. Each equaled a hundred kisses. His heart had flown to the heavens.
"A baby!" he laughed. "Oh my god!" His sweet fiancée was lifted into his arms, brought into his lap as he sat. "Can I do that? Will that - I should get into the habit of not picking you up."
Gina: Although she was now openly weeping, Gina's laugh as she was picked up was pure joy. She hugged her arms tight around Lawrence's neck, still reading the word on the test over and over just to make sure she wasn't dreaming. This was real. They were going to have a baby.
"We'll be okay on it for a while," she sniffled, smiling wide as she kissed him. "When I start showing it might not be a good idea but for now..." She took one of his hands and placed it on her abdomen, holding it there as she twined their fingers. Their baby was in there, probably no bigger than a grain of rice.
Lawrence: "That's ours," he whispered, fascinated by what he couldn't see and yet to feel. "Is that...alright to say and feel right now? I know this is your ordeal and...I don't want to overstep by - I don't know what I'm trying to say."
Gina: She nodded immediately, not feeling or showing an ounce of hesitation. "Ours. Always ours, never just mine, okay? Always ours. Our ordeal, our weird cravings, our pregnancy, our baby grain of rice."
Lawrence: "You already have names in mind, don't you? We need to - I'd like for us to be married before the baby is born. Do you want the baby in the photo? You showing, I mean."
Gina: "A few might've popped into my head," she chuckled, resting her forehead against his.
"I'd like that, too." She'd imagined it more times than she could even count. "And I'd love for the baby to be in the photo. It could be something simple and lovely. Down at the beach maybe, or at the inn."
Lawrence: "So, a beach wedding six months from now, and we also reveal the sex at the reception?" he grinned.
Gina: "To everyone else. I want us to know as soon as possible." She grinned back. "Our little secret."
Lawrence: "Really? You don't want it to be a surprise until then?"
Gina: Gina shook her head. "I want to know right away. Too impatient to wait."
Lawrence: "Then we gotta think of names quick!" he laughed.
Gina: "What are you thinking? Tell me the first names that pop into your head."
Lawrence: "I like...the name Brogan...Brenna...Loreto. I've always liked the name Juna." However long was "always". "What about you?"
Gina: "Brenna," she repeated softly. "I like that. It's very sweet. I've always liked Camilla. Kelly, for a boy. Noelle. Sam."
Lawrence: "Kelly for a boy? That's one of those names like Ashley or Lindsay?"
Gina: "Yep," she said with a nod. "My dad's brother's name is Kelly. He's my favorite uncle."
Lawrence: "Kelly Lawson? Has a nice ring to it, like a lawyer." As did Mason Atlas in his opinion, but he wouldn't say that. "What are we going to do with...her room?"
Gina: "Close, he's an investment banker," she chuckled. "His favorite thing is to meet people who think he's a woman when they hear his name and see their faces when they realize he's a man."
Gina leaned against him. "I want it to be the baby's room. But I don't want the baby to feel like he or she is living in her shadow, but I also don't want to just...push her aside."
Lawrence: "I think we can honor both children. I don't see anything wrong with our baby playing with her toys, or wearing old shoes. It doesn't - it'll be fine, as long as you're alright with it."
Gina: "I don't see anything wrong with it either. Those things should be used. Maybe if the baby uses them, they'll feel less sad." Not that the things themselves would feel sad, although this was the same woman who named (and bonded with) all her kitchen appliances and her car.
Lawrence: Gentle kisses were peppered from ear to ear and to her lips. He wanted her to feel loved and appreciated more now than ever with such a delicate subject.
"Our baby will know about her."
Gina: Gina smiled softly, letting his love wash over her. There would be some sadness and fear and maybe some grief as her pregnancy progressed, but right now there was only joy. Joy and love.
"Thank you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him tight. "I love you so much."
……………………………………………………………
Q: Q balanced three cocktails with ease as he waded through the familiar faces towards where he had left Tane Lukela and Luke Graham. He knew Stacey would be on the hunt; he knew she would find a way to learn who was dating or fucking or trying to fuck whom.
Two couples passed agonizingly slow, women versus men, forced him to wait. He took the moment to tilt his head up to the setting sun and quietly bake.
Tane/Luke: Luke liked to think he was perfectly equipped to handle Stacey. His poker face was second to none, his suspicion of her general person was always at its peak, and he was just cold and hostile enough to deter her and still somehow manage to be polite. She wouldn't get so much as the damn time from him.
But Tane Lukela? Yeah, Luke was in no way equipped to handle him.
He'd been flustered from the moment Q had introduced them and it only got worse when his pretend boyfriend had gone to fetch them drinks. He felt like he was bright red and radiating heat as he explained what he did for a living.
"Ah, so you're one of the good guys," Tane was saying.
"Yea-yep." Luke nodded. "One of the good guys. Only represent the good people. No bad ones."
Q: Q smiled at the mere sight of them. He loved their natural contrast. Already he wanted to see more...so much more. A friendship was all he hoped for, but given the tint of Luke's cheeks, pleasantries only scratched the surface here.
"Are you that intuitive to know which are honest and which are playing you?"
Drinks were passed around, and a wide flirtatious smile was given to both. Step one into easing them into his scheme.
Tane/Luke: Oh, thank god. Alcohol and Q. Maybe now he could make himself calm down.
Luke took the drink gratefully, forcing himself to sip slowly. Being drunk wouldn't do him any favors right now. "With some people, but others require some looking into." Fuck, don't smile at him like that. There was nowhere they could sneak to for a kiss which, unbeknownst to him, was Tane's exact thought.
Tane returned Q's smile before turning to shifting his attention to Luke again. He was so cute with his blush he was trying to pretend wasn't there. "Looking into?"
"Yeah, we um..." Luke cleared his throat. "We have a P.I. on retainer."
"Seriously? How often do you use them?"
"A couple times a month at least, when there's a case that gets ugly."
Q: "More than the usual scandal, I hope? Can't be the same old same old in Raleigh. Too much military around." He was just going to play off their exchanged glances and that obvious look in Tane's eyes. Best he could do for both of them, he believed, was to play as casually as possible.
"So, we're going back to Hawaii for Tane's birthday. Yours being in September, you know, you should come with us."
Tane/Luke: "Never is." He took another sip. He was already starting to feel a little more composed. "People always find new ways to screw each other over, which would be impressive if it weren't such a pain to deal with."
Luke's face lit. "Hawaii?"
Tane nodded. "Yep, Honolulu. Ever been?"
"Never. I've always wanted to though."
"Then you should absolutely come with us. We're taking Logan, too, hopefully."
The offer got more tempting. "When's your birthday?"
"July 30th."
Q: "If I had it my way, we'd be there until your birthday, but as it is, it'll be for four days. What I /really/ want to do is hop around. Hawaii, Australia, New Zealand. I want a whole month dedicated to it, and then a whole month dedicated to the best places on Earth to snowboard."
Tane/Luke: "A month and a half would be nice, but four days in Hawaii is better than four days pretty much anywhere else."
Tane smiled at that, which made Luke's blush just a little darker. He was definitely flustered. "Exactly. Knew we'd get along."
Just drink, Luke told himself. Drink and try to act like a person. "If you want to snowboard, definitely go to Colorado," he said to Q. "And Canada."
The thought of all that snow and cold made Tane shudder. "You go to Canada, I'll stick to showing you around my homeland and adopted homeland."
Luke blinked. "You're Australian?"
Q: "I'll take Colorado. I was thinking more like Sweden, but you know, I should have something to compare it to. Oh and, you are coming with. No excuses."
Tane/Luke: Tane nodded at Luke and shook his head at Q. "I'll freeze to death and go broke buying dad sweaters!"
Q: "You'll be fine! You'll have us to warm you up." He winked at Luke.
Tane/Luke: Luke? Oh Luke wasn't here anymore. A tomato with blond hair had taken his place. "I take it you're not a fan of the cold?" he asked, voice sounding squeaky and nervous to his own ears.
"Not one bit. I grew up in Hawaii and Australia, dealing with snow is not in my wheelhouse. If I go, I'm going to spend the entire trip inside by a fire with a mug of hot chocolate."
Q: "You'd hate Chicago. Especially in winter. It's just an excuse to wear your best clothes and an even better excuse to strip the one you're with."
Tane/Luke: Tane tried not to smile too much when Luke choked on his drink and coughed at Q's little comment. "My step-dad worked in Chicago when he was younger and he told me his eyelashes got frost on them when he was waiting for the bus in the winter. Fuck that. I'll stick to the warmth."
Q: "I going to have to show you Chicago. If you wanna hide that's fine. Maybe you'd prefer March. Everything becomes green."
Tane: "I'll go anywhere in the spring and summer. Colorado, Canada, Chicago, anywhere. The sun is my friend."
Q: "Then it stinks and you can feel the pollution aging your skin."
Tane: "You can go to the beach and swim and have barbecues and bonfires."
Q: "Getting half-naked and sweaty, dropping wet after a swim."
Q looked Luke over and grinned from ear-to-ear. "Am I being too much, baby?"
Tane/Luke: Tane couldn't help but chuckle when, rather than answer, Luke returned to his lovely crimson shade and downed some more of his drink.
"That looks like a yes," he said, taking a drink himself.
Luke cleared his throat, trying to save face a little. But there were two handsome men smiling at him and flustering him and god, he couldn't get it together. "I'm fine. Totally fine."
Q: Q just smiled on patiently. "Would you be totally fine if I kissed you right here and now?"
Luke: "Not with our current audience." And he didn't mean Tane. There were four judgy people just in his line of sight.
Q: "What if weeee were to excuse ourselves from the party in a few minutes?"
Tane/Luke: Luke blinked. Glanced to Tane. Tane put two and two together. Luke blinked again.
"Seriously?" he asked, feeling the sudden need to look around for Stacey and make sure she couldn't hear. So much for his poker face.
Q: Q's tone remained as calm as ever, though with flecks of lighthearted libidinous still present. "Only if you want to, if everyone is comfortable. We don't have to do anything you don't want, baby."
Tane/Luke: There was a certain deer-in-headlights look in Luke's eyes that tugged at Tane. Something was making him nervous, and it wasn't the notion of taking a private moment with Q.
"She won't bother you," he heard himself say as he caught Stacey's voice somewhere in the crowd. His own had gone reassuring and gentle. "Her attention can be focused elsewhere."
Q: "We all arrived as friends, and we're all leaving as friends. That's all she has to know." She had made mountains out of less material, but that wasn't something Q cared about in the least.
Tane/Luke: "And if he tries to say something or stick her nose where it doesn't belong, we'll have Charmaine's little sister Mira say something mean to her." He pointed toward the other side of the room. "She's right over there flirting with that Jason Bourne look-a-like."
That got a smile out of Luke.
Q: The escort laughed. "Yeah. We'll use Mira. Super effective and devastating attack." He wanted to touch Luke, to give him the usual assurance as he would in private.
Tane/Luke: Tane smiled. He could see Luke start to relax, even if it was only a little. "She takes after her Uncle Glenn. She's a third his size but she's just as scary in that really quiet way." The perfect deterrent against Stacey and her big mouth.
"She is scary," Luke said, chuckling softly. It was one of the things he liked best about her. "I'm okay, really."
Q: Stacey, at least in this moment, seemed harmless as she chased her child around the yard yelling, "I'm going to get you!" She wasn't all bad, just a gossip. A really fucking annoying gossip, but her faults were few.
"Smells like the crab boil is almost done. Ever had that before? You know, grab and potato and corn on the cob in one pot?" He grinned at both. "Maybe Tane, but not you."
Luke: Luke grinned back. "I did grow up here, remember? If it has a shell and it came out of the ocean, I've had it cooked a thousand different ways."
Q: "But you're my posh lawyer. There's not a dirty bone in you."
Luke: Now there was a laugh. "Before I was a posh lawyer I was a squeamish kid who used to hide in his brother's lap when fishing with our dad so I wouldn't see the fish guts."
Q: "That's so adorable and also makes my point," he laughed.
Luke: "There are no fish guts today though," Luke chuckled. "I'm fine as long as I can't see or smell them."
Q: "But you're cracking into their hand! They needed those for eating! You're a monster," he teased. He figured Luke was one squeamish moment away from being one of those vegan people.
Tane/Luke: Hearing Tane chuckle made Luke smile even more. "They're chilling out in crab heaven, they're totally fine!"
Q: "You can justify your eating their insides. You're more devious than I imagined!"
Luke: "Oh, yeah. The most devious, posh family lawyer in all North Carolina."
Q: "And you're mine."
Luke: And there went that blush again, this time accompanied by a ridiculous smile that Luke tried to hide by ducking his head.
Q: "What's that? You're hiding from me?"
He stepped closer, but not to touch him with his mouth. That would be too much for their setting. Instead, he whispered in his ear how much he wanted him, how much he wanted to kiss every inch of blush.
He looked into Tane's eyes and winked.
Tane/Luke: "Not from you," he managed, smile obvious even in his voice. He was hiding from everyone else, not wanting to draw any attention to their little corner of the party.
Of course, there was no telling how Luke was going to be able to avoid that with all the lovely, swoon-worthy things Q was whispering to him. He wished with every fiber of his being that they were in an invisibility bubble so he could snuggle into his pretend boyfriend's arms and kiss him.
Tane chuckled silently over Luke's shoulder. "You're flustering him," he mouthed to Q.
Q: Oh, I know, Q thought. I bet you could fluster him just as easily.
Ignorance was bliss, thanks to an elegant past lover, no idea that he possessed an innate preternatural talent. The very same power which could have inflicted Tane Lukela since night one.
"Do you really want to stick around for under seasoned food, or do you want to feign a headache and have us walk you home?"
Tane/Luke: "I thought there was no such thing as under-seasoned in the south," Tane mused, eying the food table suspiciously.
"You'd be surprised." Luke cleared his throat, finally lifting his face. It was very much red. "It's tempting. I could feed us properly seasoned food. Got some mahi at the market I was planning to grill."
Q: "Now that sounds like a party I want to be a part of." An extrovert though he was, time spent with Luke was spent as though paid. His happiness and satisfaction were still very much a priority. He wanted Tane to be a part of Luke's life.
"You do that, and maybe...maybe I'll put on a show for you...both."
Tane/Luke: Tane quickly nodded in agreement. "You had me at mahi. Not enough places around here serve it." Plus, he was curious to see what Luke was like when he was in an environment he felt confident and secure in.
Luke's brows shot up in surprise. "Is that code for a strip tease in my living room?"
Q: "Is that something Mr. Graham would like from me?"
Luke: Ordinarily yes, but Q had said 'both' so...
"....Perhaps. Perhaps."
Q: "What are the conditions required for a yes?"
Luke: "No conditions, just...mulling."
Q: "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, baby."
Luke: Luke nodded. "I know," he said, smiling softly.
Q: "Tane has been a surprise I've been debating for you for a while now." He smiled to Big T, gentle and, as the bouncer would probably recognize, loving. His attention returned to the lawyer, fingers brushed over his hand as he took his glass from him.
"I'll get refills."
Tane/Luke: Of course Tane recognized that smile. It was one of the many, many things he loved about Q, and he would always give one back in kind when he was gifted with it.
Meanwhile, the look of flustered embarrassment on Luke's face had been replaced by one of, well, surprise.
Tane was a surprise? For him? Did Tane know he was a surprise? Even if he didn't, he seemed perfectly fine with it. He was still smiling and friendly. That was probably a good sign, right?
He nodded at Q while the conga line of questions danced through his head. "Okay. Thank you." He turned to Tane. "So...you're...."
"Your surprise," Tane said softly, smiling at Luke in his gentle, soothing way. He hadn't known beforehand but as Luke surmised, he was perfectly fine with it. "Is that okay?"
You're giant and gorgeous. Of course it's okay. "I--yes."
Q: Q took his sweet time in the kitchen, watching them every once in a while from the open window. They were unique. The contrasts between them didn't negate either man. He wouldn't always be what Luke Graham needed. Someday he would have to move on. Tane Lukela was the only man he could think of worthy of his company. He knew he would treat him preciously, like the gift he was. Watching them, it was already apparent that his assumption had been accurate.
Small talk redirected his attention. He allowed it, and allowed himself to relax.
Tane/Luke: Even though he was starting to relax, what remained of Luke's nerves still made Tane smile. He'd never met a lawyer this soft and cute before, and yet he couldn't help but think that not everyone got to see this side of Luke, or even knew it existed. He struck Tane as a very private person and that just tugged at him in some kind of way.
"What Q said still holds up, you know. Surprise or not. You don't have to do anything you don't want to or anything that makes you feel uncomfortable."
Luke nodded again. He hadn't needed it, but the reassurance was still nice. And appreciated. "Thanks for that."
"No need to thank me. It's a given, always will be. For me and for Q." Another smile. "He cares about you a lot, and I can tell you care for him."
A warm tingle settled in Luke's chest. "I do."
Q: Q slowly began to make his way back. Every sectioned crowd was given a greeting and his input. Those outside by the giant pot were assisted in cutting up a new batch of potatoes with his pocket knife. A beer was chugged with the most heavy drinking competitive. Finally, he made his way over.
"What did I miss?"
Tane/Luke: This time around, Luke wasn't nearly as anxious for Q to return as he had been the last time. Which wasn't to say he wasn't keeping an eye out for him, waiting for his warm, comforting presence to make itself known again. Still, it was a good testament to Tane's powers of distraction and innate ability to set people at ease.
He even managed to make Luke laugh. He was still patting himself on the back for it when Q came back to them. "Not much. I was just telling Luke about how my brother Derek scarred me for life literally and metaphorically with the frisbee."
Q: "Oh, that story. You're going to have to get over it, Big T. I'm going to throw one at you every day until you chill. That's what's going to happen."
Tane: "I already did!" he chuckled. "When I played with you and Logan. I even caught it a couple times."
Q: "You still flinched."
Tane/Luke: "But I still caught it!"
Luke couldn't help but smile. He just couldn't imagine this giant man flinching,
Q: "I'll show you later, Luke. It's fucking adorable and yet you want to make it worse and do it again."
Tane/Luke: Tane gasped in sheer, dramatic betrayal and Luke lost his battle with his giggle.
"It is not!" said Tane. "I am not adorable when I'm ducking from rogue frisbees."
Q: "Luke will be the judge of that later," he nodded.
Tane: "Luke is gonna be Logan today because I will hide behind him if you throw the frisbee hard on purpose just to make me flinch."
Q: "Luke will know that getting out of the way is good for you."
Luke: "Luke also has a healthy fear of getting hit in the face," Luke chuckled. "But I will simultaneously protect and help provide exposure therapy."
Q: "You're going to protect him? Tell me how. I want it all."
Luke: "I may be a ref now but once upon a time on my college team I played goal keeper. I'm very good at blocking foreign objects coming at me."
Q: "Are you going to reach the top of his head? Maybe if he ducked. He does that often." Oh, he was grinning from ear-to-ear.
Tane: Tane was squinting at Q. "You're enjoying this far too much." He was definitely going to have to do something about that later.
Q: "What are you going to do about it?" Tell me in front of Luke.
Tane/Luke: A smiled tugged at the corner of Tane's mouth. "Not entirely sure buuuuut…..that ass of yours is very bite-able."
Luke inhaled sharply.
Q: Q smiled knowingly, breathed slowly. "What do you think, Luke? Any truth to that?"
Luke: You would think by now Luke would've relaxed and gotten his blushes under control, but that wasn't the case.
His face was still very much red as he gave a jerky nod. "Mhmm." He didn't trust himself to speak.
Q: "What's the matter, baby?" Q tilted his head, completely innocent.
Luke: He just smiled and shook his head. "Nothin'." Ah ha, he found his voice! "Nothin' at all."
Q: "What's good, then?"
Luke: "Ah, well...Tane's suggestion has merit. A lot of merit."
Q: "Want a demonstration?"
Luke: He gave a slow nod. Not hesitant, just slow.
Q: "Want to go home?" A question asked to both men.
Tane/Luke: Another nod from Luke, along with a smile from Tane. "Let's go have ourselves some seasoned food."
Q: "You know the way to my house." His keys were given to Luke. "Going to say goodbye to our host and explain how so very ill you are, and we need to take care of you."
Luke: "I do," Luke said as he took the keys. If his smile got any bigger his face was going to start to hurt. If anyone believed he was really feeling sick, it would be a miracle. "Just gonna have to stop by my house to grab the food so I can feed you both."
Q: "Take Tane with you. I'll meet you there."
Tane: "You sure?" Tane asked.
Q: "He won't bite unless you want him to."
Tane: He laughed. "I meant about walking all the way back."
Q: "I'll be fine. Promise."
Tane: "All right." Since he couldn't give Q the kiss he wanted to give him in their current setting, he simply gave him a smile that promised one soon. "Come on, Luke, let's go get the food."
………………………………………
MJ: The expensive bottle of wine had almost fallen to the floor, rescued in the last possible second. The vampire exhaled and set it safely aside.
"Are ya sure ya wanna?" The idea had been planted by no other, but it had been a heat of the moment suggestion.
Rohan: Rohan inhaled sharply the moment the bottle slipped out of MJ's hands, exhaling in the same fashion and chuckling as it was caught. They'd narrowly escaped a lecture from Xavier about the carpet.
He smiled at his vampire. "I'm sure. Are you?"
MJ: "I...It's - I'm dead, Ro. I don't...understand. Xavier tried t'explain that I - I dunno what m'sayin'."
Rohan: "You are but you're not." MJ was given a gentle kiss. "It's all right if you change your mind, either now or during. We'll start slow and if you want to stop, we'll stop."
MJ: That sounded reasonable. Of course. Solutions were quicker from the witch than with himself. Answers which saved everyone. And those kisses.
"I wanna be...naked with ya."
Rohan: You like the kisses? Have another, beautiful vampire. "As you wish, puiule," he whispered, locking the door and leading MJ over to the bed.
"Want me to do the honors?"
MJ: "So long as I get t'undress ya." So satisfying it was to peel away his clothes like an ugly second skin for something so appealing.
Rohan: His smile radiated with affection for the man before him. "I would never dream of refusing you."
Rohan stepped within his vampire's reach, taking the liberty of removing his shoes before allowing those lovely cool hands to roam everywhere they wished.
MJ: This was a favorite ritual of his. To slide his hands underneath Rohan's shirt, allowing him to siphon his chill before removing the barrier altogether.
"Ro..."
Rohan: Rohan hummed softly at that initial difference in temperate, smile slowly growing as MJ's evened out with his own. He lifted his arms obligingly so his vampire could remove his shirt and stole another kiss before asking, "Yes?"
MJ: "Do you ever think 'bout anyone else?"
Rohan: "In the same way I think about you?" Rohan shook his head as he kissed MJ's shoulder. "No."
MJ: "Not...ever?" He cupped his face and leaned away enough to study his expression.
Rohan: MJ would find nothing but sincerity, and perhaps a bit of curiosity. "Not since the day I met you."
MJ: "The day I came in here all bloody n'crazy?"
Rohan: He nodded. "That day."
MJ: "But..." I was a catastrophe. "Are we... What are we?"
Rohan: A thumb caressed MJ's jaw. "I suppose you could say we're dating or simply....together. Together has a nice ring to it. But what do you want us to be?"
MJ: He leaned into his hand and quietly debated. He knew his instinct.
"Like...a... Ya know like...when ya smoke, or drink, orgasm or pop a pill. That high like... it's not all perfect, but, life ain't shit anymore? S'what it's like with ya. I wanna keep it, but I know the high goes away."
Rohan: "Eventually, perhaps." The perhaps was very important in this scenario. Even if MJ wasn't ready for something permanent or didn't want to label whatever was between them, Rohan wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon.
"But not now. Not for a long time," he whispered, nuzzling his beautiful vampire's cheek.
MJ: "N'ya still wanna..." Those kisses were distracting, simple though they were. "...Ya still wanna...have sex with me? Real sex?"
Rohan: Rohan nodded. "I do, but still only if that's what you want too."
MJ: "N'ya don't see it as...as..."
Rohan: He shook his head. "I don't."
MJ: "Then...finish undressin' me. Please."
Rohan: MJ was given a soft smile and one of those kisses he loved so much as Rohan pulled him close. He wanted every bit of his vampire in reach while he eased his shirt off, while he undid his jeans, while he lavished every inch of exposed skin with affection.
Rohan was going to take his time and take great care with the precious man in his arms. He wanted tonight to be as pleasurable for MJ as possible.
MJ: Bare skin, pale, dusted with the occasional dark freckle. A mole over his rib.
He wanted to give Rohan similar treatment, but he wanted to wait. He wanted to be completely nude before offering the same to his witch. It felt... submissive.
Rohan: Every one of those freckles was given loving, lingering attention, as was that sweet little mole. As was all of MJ.
Rohan's lips followed MJ's jeans as he slid them down the vampire's legs, and once they had been tossed away, the process was repeated with MJ's boxers until at last there was nothing between him and all that lovely skin. He would slowly work his way back up MJ's body, pausing briefly at his groin to press a soft kiss just above the base of his shaft.
MJ: No one had ever made him feel so feminine. No one had been given the opportunity. Not even Peter Graham, the man he believed to be his and his alone.
What an inappropriate time to think about the man that had broken his heart.
Rohan was suddenly held around his shoulders, face nuzzled into his neck.
Rohan: The sudden movement took Rohan by surprise. For half a second he expected and prepared for MJ to tell him to stop, that it was too much and that he'd changed his mind. But then his vampire was simply holding him.
"It's all right, puiule," he murmured, arms immediately coming up to hold MJ close, to offer reassurance and comfort and affection. "I've got you. It's just you and me. I've got you."
MJ: "M'alright," he muttered. "Don't need t'talk t'me like that. M'not gonna break." Not yet, anyway. Not by this.
Rohan: Rohan nodded and kissed MJ's shoulder, hands rubbing over his back for both the pleasure of feeling his skin and to reassure.
MJ: "Ya feel so warm," he marveled at the differences in their skin. "Aren't ya hot all the time?"
Rohan: He chuckled softly. "Only in the summer. All other times I'm comfortable, even when it's cold. I have that thick Romanian blood."
MJ: "Show off." What would Rohan do with fangs teased against his throat, with the obvious arousal against his thigh? How would he feel to the deliberate breaths against his skin...
Rohan: How would he feel in the face of so many signs of MJ's attraction and arousal?
Absolutely divine.
Rohan gave an appreciative little hum, hold tightening around MJ so he could feel more of him. That beautiful face required kisses, as did that shoulder. And that perfectly sculpted ass? Well that needed a loving squeeze.
MJ: Rohan must have known that such a hold made him feel secure, protected from that which was within. It would do nothing against Victoria, he assumed. He was mistaken. The stronger he felt, the less control she could wield.
"Tighter."
Rohan: If MJ wanted to be held tighter then Rohan would practically fuse them together. He'd lower him to the bed and all but wrap around him as he covered him with kisses.
MJ: No one. Not one man or woman had ever - he must have repeated that thought a hundred times.
He hadn't given Peter a chance to.
"Just...um... If we, uh, do this...are ya gonna be rough, or...?"
Rohan: Rohan shook his head. "No, puiule. If we do, it's going to be nice and easy. I want you to be comfortable."
MJ: "How do you want me. Like this on my back?"
Rohan: "For now, yes." They could change positions later if MJ preferred or needed it. They had all the time in the world and Rohan intended to use it all. MJ deserved for his first time being with someone like this to be special, for the person he chose to be gentle and thorough and put his pleasure and comfort above all else and Rohan was immensely honored to be that person.
"I'm going to prep you first. We'll go slow, I promise."
MJ: "Ya -Ya don't gotta - Ya ain't gotta be gentle. I mean...m'not gonna cry. Not much can hurt me, so..." A tough front, unwarranted bravery in the face of sex. He wondered...if Peter would be this caring. He wondered if Fletcher Goodman had been careful with him.
Rohan deserved better.
"Are ya sure ya want me? Are ya sure - Why me? I'm trash."
Rohan: "I'm sure, puiule," Rohan murmured, pulling MJ into a kiss and pouring himself into it. It was far more eloquent than anything he could ever say.
You're the farthest thing from trash there is. You're good. You're beautiful. You mean the world to me and I want you so much.
MJ: Naked and vulnerable, MJ involuntarily mewled into their kiss. Safe, he chanted. He was safe here. This man loved him. This man...
He kissed his jaw and fiddled with the witch's hair.
"If we're a thing, are - Ya won't...ever...cheat, will ya? Just be honest. I can take it." He couldn't.
Rohan: That was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard his vampire make and it made every single fiber of Rohan's being clench with feeling.
He nuzzled MJ's cheek, kissed it. "Never. I'm yours, MJ. Only yours."
MJ: He'd told Peter to move on, so it hadn't been cheating.
No, he'd come back. Peter had every opportunity to tell him. He hadn't. He lied.
He deserved it for having Victoria inside him.
When had his eyes glazed pink with tears he couldn't say. He didn't realize.
"Promise?"
Rohan: More kisses were placed on MJ's lips, his face, his hair. It broke Rohan's heart to see him cry.
"On my life."
MJ: MJ covered his face when he realized what had happened. A soft growl of frustration followed.
"Sorry." Man the fuck up.
Rohan: "Don't apologize." So many more kisses, for distraction and affection and everything in between.
MJ: "You're too sweet," he grumbled.
Rohan: He smiled against MJ's skin. "No such thing when it comes to you."
MJ: "See! There ya go again!"
Rohan: Rohan would simply continue to smile and lavish affection on MJ every which way he possibly could.
MJ: "Stooooop," he whined, laughing a moment later.
Rohan: Ah, there it was! That lovely laugh he didn't get to hear nearly enough of.
He finally lifted his head, smile triumphant. "Stop? As you wish! My kisses will be locked away!"
MJ: "Good." No, no not good at all. Now it was his turn to lovingly assault his beautiful witch with kisses from his face to his neck to his shoulder.
Rohan: MJ would be immediately rewarded with soft, appreciative hums as Rohan melted into the affection. He'd never get his fill of those lips and those kisses. They were just too perfect, and the only way he could think to communicate that was sneaking in some more affection of his own. MJ's chest was right there, after all. It would be positively criminal not to love on it.
………………………………..
MJ/Lawrence: MJ held his arms around Rohan's head and breathed him in. His shampoo, his natural scent, the subtlety of the wine cellar.
Lawrence looked over the list for what felt like the hundredth time. Things they would need. Things they would want. When they would need to see the doctor, and the pros and cons of leaving his home with Mason Atlas.
Rohan/Gina: Whatever MJ did, if he was within easy reach he was going to be held tight and lavished with all the love Rohan could possibly give him.
Gina watched Lawrence stare at his paper, imagining she could see the wheels turning in his head. It was a good long time before she said, "If you look at that list any harder you're going to burn a hole in it."
Lawrence: "Hmm?" He managed to tear his eyes away to look at her.
Gina: She smiled. "Where are you?"
Lawrence: "Finances, months ahead of us." He tapped his pen over the last of his tasks. Possibly moving out of Cameron.
"I don't want you to have to see him."
Gina: "I haven't in months." She didn't have to ask who Lawrence meant. "Something tells me I'm a subject he avoids like the plague. Maybe even more so now."
Lawrence: "Mason doesn't hate you."
Gina: Gina gave him a disbelieving look.
Lawrence: "He has no reason to. You didn't influence Callum. With you or not that man doesn't care about me."
Gina: She reached for Lawrence's hand and held it to her cheek. "That's his loss. You're wonderful. Possibly the most wonderful human being ever."
Lawrence: Her fiancé smiled. "You're just putting a daisy chain on the truth."
Gina: "No daisy chains. Just the truth." She kissed his palm. "What else is on your list?"
Lawrence: "I need to rethink and...or...expand my career. I want to be on the right foot for this."
Gina: Gina smiled. He really was the most wonderful man she'd ever met.
"You already are. Tell me what you're thinking. Your career has to be a source of happiness. Or it should be anyway."
Lawrence: "Notary is Mason's job, his life, a source of satisfaction. It's not difficult to maintain, but I'm not also a contract demon. I love...domestic work."
Gina: She considered for a moment. "Could I run something by you? If it's too weird you can absolutely say no."
Lawrence: He gestured for her to continue, sitting back in his chair.
Gina: "What if you worked at the inn? Supervising the cleaning staff?"
Lawrence: "Is that - Is that something you actually want?"
Gina: "I've been thinking about it for a while. I just didn't know if you would like the idea or think it was too weird but....I would love it if we ran the inn together. It's going to be our inn now. Not just mine."
Lawrence: "I don't want you to feel obligated or compelled to share with me. I don't want to take away your independence. This is yours and I don't want you to write me in any documentation."
Gina: "I don't and you aren't. I own a business and a home and a car, my independence is well established." She leaned over to kiss him. "I'm offering because I want to."
Lawrence: "So... you want me to be the housekeeping manager? And who is right now?"
Gina: "Would you be interested? Mary-Beth Carter is right now, but she gave notice nearly two weeks ago since she got a new job in Kitty Hawk."
Lawrence: "She moved? Where has my mind been..."
Gina: "Not properly. She's been moving slowly over the past few weeks instead of doing it all at once."
Lawrence: He resisted the urge to ask if she needed assistance. With a child on the way, such good will would have to take a backseat. To an extent.
"...Alright. Yes, then. But if and when you're done with me, say so."
Gina: "Yay!" Gina gave him another kiss and squeezed him tight. "I could never be done with a man who attacks a dirty oven with the white-hot passion of a thousand suns."
Lawrence: To that he actually laughed. "To think I found a woman with as much passion for cleaning as I have."
Gina: "It's so satisfying!" she chuckled. "And dinner's more fun when we have dance parties with the kitchen clean up afterward."
Lawrence: "We're an 80’s movie about coming of age."
Gina: "We are. All we need is ridiculous hair and denim jackets."
Lawrence: "I'll have you know denim jackets are cool."
Gina: She chuckled again. "Sweetie, you might be the only person who can pull one off."
Lawrence: "And men with long hair, with tassels on the sleeves."
Gina: "You could pull of those too. And aviator sunglasses and saying 'bitchin' every other sentence."
Lawrence: "What kind of image have you made of me?"
Gina: "It's forming as we speak," she laughed. "We should have 80's themed costumes for Halloween."
Lawrence: "What will you be?"
Gina: "Madonna."
Lawrence: "Pointy breasts and everything?"
Gina: She laughed. "Yep! Although by that point it'll be a little difficult to pull it off."
Lawrence: "A pregnant Madonna. You'll be fine!"
Gina: "That's one word for it," she said with another laugh. "You know, I bet there really is a maternity size Madonna costume that exists."
Lawrence: "You could be a victim from the Alien films, too."
Gina: "Ooh, I could! Or Ripley!"
Lawrence: "The best part of being pregnant is going to be Halloween, isn't it?" he laughed.
Gina: Gina grinned. "Absolutely. I get to eat all the chocolate I want!"
Lawrence: "How..." He shouldn't be shy about the subject, but he was. "...How many complications did you experience the first time?"
Gina: It was understandable, considering her history. She squeezed his hand. "None with my actual pregnancy. I had anemia but so did my mama when she was pregnant with me."
Lawrence: "Anemia. What - What does that entail while pregnant?"
Gina: "It basically means I'm not producing enough healthy red blood cells for me and the baby, so my doctor had me take iron tablets and vitamin B12."
Lawrence: Nodding, the pad and pen were take once more to write what she said.
Gina: "Oh, also folic acid and ginger since I had pretty severe morning sickness which was partially what caused the anemia."
Lawrence: "I'll look into pregnant friendly foods with the highest iron content. Probably dark leafy greens."
Gina: She smiled. "Yep, that's what I ate. All I wanted was spinach salad with strawberries. And lobster rolls."
Lawrence: "You can have lobster?"
Gina: "Yep, in moderation."
Lawrence: "I feel...like being alive for a lifetime could have come in handy at this time."
Gina: "Pregnancy is a weird and complicated topic. Even people who have been alive for a lifetime have plenty to learn."
Lawrence: "Is that...Does that bother you any?"
Gina: Gina shook her head. "Not one bit. There was a lot I didn't learn before that I'm excited to learn with you. Not just about pregnancy but raising a baby, too."
Lawrence: "And...what about other things? Things like what I am and behind the veil?"
Gina: She shook her head again. "What you are has never bothered me, the things beyond the veil don't bother me. All that matters to me is that we're together and we love each other and that we communicate. I always want us to be able to communicate."
Lawrence: "I understand that you were taken aback by my big reveal, but you don't miss what I was? Is this," his face to which he gestured, "actually alright?"
Gina: Her face softened as she smiled. "This," she said, lifting a hand to his face, "is absolutely beautiful. You look different but you're still you. You still /feel/ like you. My Lawrence."
Lawrence: Lawrence softly blinked, stunned by her positivity and acceptance. This woman gave more than his own - no. He didn't want that thought like a plague rotting his future. If he did, he knew he'd also think of her own, wherever her soulmate was.
"I'm robbing someone of you."
Gina: "I really don't think you are. Call it a gut feeling."
Lawrence: "You're just saying that, Ginnie."
Gina: "If I didn't believe it, maybe. But I do believe it. I don't think I have a supposed soulmate out there. I believe you're it for me. You're the love of my life, the father of our child, and soon my husband."
Lawrence: "I wish I had your kind of belief. It's beautiful, like faith."
Gina: She smiled, kissing his knuckles. "Maybe one day you'll have it, too. Babies bring faith and belief."
Lawrence: "I'm going to be a father," he mused. Smile slowly returned to light his features. "I want to forget - forget why I exist and give myself a new reason. You."
Gina: "Yeah, you are." More kisses were given to his hand and then his face. She was so very grateful he existed. "Not just me anymore, sweetheart." She placed his hand over her belly again. "Don't forget little name-to-come."
……………………………………………
Q: Q felt his pocket for the second time as he wound the sidewalk leading up to the apartments. He hadn't expected to see his Tracker under his personal carport. They had real chemistry, and his expectations for their budding relationship was high. High enough to offer his own body for their mutual pleasure. Who knew? Maybe Tane would realize he would never find true love with a prostitute. He would have to wait and see.
Tane/Luke: The trip to his house and then to Q's wasn't nearly as awkward as Luke had (briefly) been afraid it was going to be. They made small talk, Luke gave Tane a tour of the first floor of Pete's house, he introduced him to Midas. All with only a couple of moments of silence. Definitely something to be proud of.
When Q entered his apartment, he'd find Tane dutifully playing sous chef while Luke prepped their meal. Luke was blushing something fierce and Tane had a distinctly amused look on his face that Q was sure to recognize as the one he wore when saying random and scandalous things to make someone laugh.
Q: Q had quietly shut the door behind himself. Not wanting to surprise, but wanting to have a better study of the two without their notice. This was Tane and Luke without his influence, and he liked what he saw.
"Whatever he said, it's probably true."
Tane: Tane looked over when he heard Q's voice, grin still in place. "It is. I'm telling him about that really really drunk lady at that bachelorette party who hit on both of us, Stacey, some random girl, and then the boss. Remember, she was yelling everything she wanted us to do and thought she was whispering?"
Q: "Ah, yeah. I've never seen her since. I think she's too embarrassed to ever show her face again."
Luke: "I would be too," Luke muttered, trying to compose himself. "I'd probably never leave my house again."
Q: "Don't say shit like that. I will come up with horrific ways to embarrass you in public. I'll fall to my knees and kiss your ass."
Luke: "I'll spontaneously combust. You wouldn't make me spontaneously combust."
Q: "I will if the spirit grabs me," he grinned.
Luke: Have a puppy dog look.
Q: He would have it, and he would dare kiss those lips in front of Tane. Soft, slow, deliberate. What would Tane think? feel?
"Just like that," he purred. "The spirit grabbed me."
Tane/Luke: The spirit had made Luke's entire face and probably his body go bright red and immediately burrow into the crook of Q's neck to hide. From the embarrassment? From Tane? Who knew.
But if Luke was worried about Tane, he needn't have been. The reaction to that kiss had to be one of the sweetest, most intimate things he'd ever witnessed, and he felt strangely...moved by it.
Q: Arms wound their way around Luke's shoulders, swaying him in an effort to coax a laugh or smile. He turned them just so to lay eyes on the bouncer, locking eyes with an interest in his thoughts and compulsions.
Tane/Luke: Q succeeded. It wasn't a laugh, but Q would definitely be able to feel a smile against his skin.
Tane was looking on with a soft smile, one that just got softer when he met Q's gaze. What he was seeing there was a lot of trust from Luke. Trust that he would be able to hide against Q, that Q would hold him and make him feel safe. It was beautiful to see. So much so that a part of him wondered what it would be like to experience it for himself.
But he and Luke weren't there yet. Developing that trust took time and they'd only just met.
Q: Trust was part of his job. It had been since his first hundred dollars. Trust to be clean, appropriate, skilled, the perfect pseudo boyfriend. But Luke was more than a client. He had been since before the checks stopped flowing. He didn't know what to call them.
"So," he whispered, "dinner, yeah? You're teaching him how to be a proper chef?"
Luke: Luke nodded. It was so tempting to just stay snuggled against Q; it was by far his favorite place to be.
"Yeah. He's a decent chef already."
Q: "Is he now?" he chuckled. "He sure fooled me."
Tane: "Hey," said Tane. "I'm an excellent sous chef and part time chef."
Q: "What have you ever made me besides breakfast?"
Tane: "Shrimp, in many ways. Sometimes with rice."
Q: "Your Hawaiian is showing."
Luke: Ah, what was that? A giggle from a certain lawyer who had yet to emerge from hiding?
Q: Oh, that noise. He wanted more of it. He would take it by loving force, tickling at his ribs without mercy.
"What was that noise? Did that come outta here?"
Tane/Luke: Luke was helpless to stop the flood of giggles caused by such a loving assault, or to keep from squirming in a half-hearted effort to get away.
Just like Tane was helpless to stop the smile from splitting his face in half. It was official. Luke Graham was the most adorable lawyer in the world.
Q: Once Luke seemed too exhausted to resist, he was lifted into his arms by his ass. He loved hearing this man laugh. He loved being the cause just as much.
"No room on the counter for you. Guess you're trapped in my arms."
Tane/Luke: Luke all but wrapped himself around Q, nuzzling in even further as Tane's expression went all soft and melty again.
It wasn't just trust that Luke had with Q; it was complete trust. Luke could relax and be vulnerable and maybe even forget Tane was there because he knew Q wouldn't drop him.
"Guess I am," Luke said happily.
Q: Luke would hear a soft chuckle in his ear, followed by a trail of kisses down his neck. Precious man. He needed to be protected for when he'd no longer be around. Hence Tane Lukela.
Time to give the neglected Tane some attention.
"What stage are you guys on? Need help, Big T?"
Tane: Tane tore his mind away from the sweetness that was Luke and smiled at Q.
"We're nearing the end. Need to get a grill pan going and marinate the fish."
Q: "You'll be the first to use any of that stuff. You know what I eat on the daily."
Tane: "Yes I do. You and Logan are on the same level cooking wise."
The grill pan was placed on the stove before he went to grab the fish from the fridge.
Q: "I beg to differ. She can actually bake. I make smoothies."
Tane: "That's still amazing to me. We both watched her make a full fledged baked Alaska and burn pasta in the same day."
Q: "She's quite the catch." Just like the man in his arms. He deserved another kiss and sweet nothings whispered in his ear.
Tane/Luke: "Yes she is." He looked over in time to see the affectionate exchange and it made him smile once more.
Luke had braved enough to return Q's kisses, albeit in a much more demure way than he usually would. There was a big part of him that wanted to say screw food and just stay right where he was, but that would be rude.
Q: "So, before...you agreed with something Big T said. Do you remember what that was?"
Luke: Luke's blush returned as he nodded.
Q: "Why don't you tell me."
Luke: He would, but he'd whisper it very softly, so only Q would be able to hear.
"That your ass is biteable."
Q: "Do you want to see that?"
Luke: A moment. A pause. And another nod.
Q: Eyes never left the man in his arms. "T, you want to show Luke what it's like to bite my ass?"
Tane: Tane could practically sense Luke burrowing again without even having to turn around.
"You know," he began, tone light and gentle, "I really think I would."
Q: "Might want to turn the stove down, then."
Luke was gently tossed onto the touch, and the man he enjoyed calling boyfriend turned back to the kitchen and placed his hands on the fridge.
"All yours," he purred.
Tane/Luke: The sudden absence of Q's warmth left Luke feeling cold enough to want to protest, and had it not been for the anticipation of what he was about to see, he would have. As it was, he'd keep himself warm and give himself a hiding place using one of the couch pillows, because apparently Tane's presence was enough to make him as shy as when he...nope. He'd never been this shy. Ever. This was a first for him, one of many he suspected would come today.
Tane chuckled and turned the pan all the way to low. "Just like that, huh? No ceremony or anything. Right to the point." Have a chaste kiss to your shoulder.
Q: Q knew what Tane was going to do. At least he assumed, going off of every other time he'd played the same game with him before. What he knew for certain was Tane's lips against him, clothed or unclothed, was both soothing and arousing. He could calm his mind and divert his thoughts, but instead allowed himself to bask in the attention and his own selfish erection. This was what Luke wanted to see, after all.
"Slow," was his command. "Give baby a show." Much like his own, trailing his hands to the top of the fridge, allowing full access to his ass.
Tane: Oh, Tane could do slow. Tane loved slow. It gave him time to lavish and explore at his leisure, and now it would also offer Luke a very special show.
Starting at the back of his neck, Tane kissed his way down Q's body, letting his hands trail ahead of his lips and stopping when he hit the small of his bartender's back. Only then did Tane lift up Q's shirt, finally kissing bare skin as he slooooowly inched his pants just far down enough to expose that beautiful ass of his.
Q: His ass so exposed for Luke's viewing pleasure was exactly what he had expected. This had to be a positive experience for his favorite lawyer. He wanted him to enjoy every moan of pleasure and approval. Bare skin needed to be admired by both men. His shirt was tossed aside, offering a better view of his lithe willing body. Sun kissed skin warm and inviting. Almost everywhere. The subject matter at heart was still very much pale.
Tane/Luke: Luke wasn't sure how he was feeling about all this--there was a lot going on in his head at the moment--but so far...this was a very positive experience. He didn't feel weird or jealous seeing Tane with Q, like he was afraid he would, but there was still a lot of shyness and vulnerability he had to work through. No matter how enjoyable it was to experience, he simply wasn't used to being in an intimate situation like with anyone other than Q. Sure he'd had his share of boyfriends but Q was different.
A fact that was obvious to Tane, who was making sure not to move too suddenly or look at Luke directly for fear of embarrassing him further or making him feel uncomfortable. He wasn't only being gentle with Q; he was being gentle with Luke now, too. This would be a show, but it would be a gentle, loving show.
As gentle and loving as the series of open-mouthed kisses and teasing nips he placed all over that beautiful pale skin, watching Luke's reaction out of the corner of his eye.
Q: Q remained as still as he could, allowing his approval to show with soft hums and dips and turns of his head. If he focused, he wouldn't have to submit to arousal.
"What do you want to see now, Luke?"
Tane/Luke: Ah, but they hadn't gotten to their main event yet. The thing that had piqued Luke's curiosity and landed them here.
Before Luke could try to respond, Tane gave him a wink and gave a playful little bite to Q's ass.
Q: "Ahn!" Nails lightly scraped over the stainless steel fridge. A laugh quickly followed. "Goddammit. Ya got me."
Tane: "Oh yes I did," Tane chuckled warmly, pressing a kiss to the same spot to soothe. "Lulled you and your ass into a false sense of security."
Q: "Neither of you will gain access to this temple." Another little something for Luke.
Tane: "Promises, promises." Another playful bite and Q's pants were set to rights.
Q: And it was back to their cooking, playing it smooth for Luke's sake.
"How was that?" he asked the man on the couch.
Tane/Luke: Luke would've responded, but he was busy blushing and trying to gather himself.
Surely the look in his eyes would answer for him; it had been a very pleasant sight.
Q: "I think we broke him," he whispered.
Tane: Tane smiled to himself. "Maybe just a little. Better go kiss him back to life."
Q: Then his spoon was set aside. He joined him on the couch and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
Luke: Luke immediately leaned into Q. "Hi," he murmured softly.
Q: "Are you alright, baby?"
Luke: He nodded, offered Q a shy little smile. "Better than."
Q: "Good." A kiss to his cheek, his temple, and his hand.
Luke: The smile got brighter. "We should go to the beach. Get some sun."
Q: "Today? Tomorrow?"
Luke: "Soon. I know all the good beaches without any tourists. Completely private."
Q: "So you're saying a nude beach," he grinned.
Luke: "Not officially but yes," Luke chuckled.
Q: "Is...Tane invited?"
Luke: He glanced over to where Tane had resumed dinner prep and nodded. "Yes. He is."
Q: "So you're alright with Tane?" he quietly asked.
Luke: Another nod. "Yeah, I think I am," he said just as softly. He's a lot like you."
Q: "Twice the fun," he smiled.
Luke: "And twice the handsome. I might swoon."
Q: "Swoon, will you?" He kissed his neck again. "What a romantic notion."
Luke: "Yep, maybe more than once." He hummed softly at the kiss, nuzzling him. His blush had started to fade in the face of such lovely affection.
"What can I say, you bring out the romantic in me."
Q: "You understand why I want Tane here?" The apartment was small. He expected the bouncer to hear every word. That was somewhat the point. What was more critical was Luke's understanding.
Tane/Luke: Tane did, but he didn't plan to interrupt unless he was spoken to directly. This was a moment Luke needed to have with Q.
And to that end, Luke tried to speak as softly as possible. "Kind of?"
Q: "I won't always be in Edenton," he continued on just as gently. "I want you to have another friend. And...maybe more."
Luke: "What do you mean you won't always be in Edenton?" Was Q leaving?
Q: "Someday I am going to move. I love this place," and he paused, allowing Luke to fill in the blank, "but it's not my forever home."
Luke: His gaze fell to his lap. That sounded too much like he was never going to see Q again and Luke didn't like it. He didn't even live in Edenton full time himself but something about 'it's not my forever home' sounded too much like....
Q: "Baby? Talk to me." That silence was much too long.
Luke: Luke shook his head. "It's nothing." He didn't want to think about Dana. That was for nights at his condo when he was alone and couldn't sleep.
Q: The very thought which had Q pressing his forehead against his neck, breathing him in.
"Why are you here?"
Luke: He reached for Q's hand, suddenly in need of the comfort it provided. "To spend time with you," he whispered. "To get to know Tane. To have dinner."
Q: Q took his hand and kissed each finger.
"Is knowing Tane like you do me going to make you happy?"
Luke: He smiled and leaned against Q. "Time will tell, but I hope so."
Q: "Good. Mind if I kiss you?"
Luke: "I don't mind one bit."
Q:  Now for another question.
"Will you mind?" he asked the man in the kitchen.
Tane: The man in the kitchen simply smiled and shook his head. "Not one bit," he echoed.
Q: A temptation crept into his chest like every sexual inkling. Would he mind kissing Luke? He bit his lip and considered, but thought better of it. Instead turning back to his favorite lawyer for his lips.
Tane/Luke: Tane wouldn't mind at all, but it was probably too soon. They'd have to ease Luke into it, help him feel comfortable and safe.
And nothing could do that better than Q's kisses.
Luke hummed softly, melting against his pretend boyfriend, aware of Tane's presence but feeling at ease.
Q: Easing Luke probably didn't mean placing his hand between his legs. It probably didn't mean squeezing, gently biting his throat, humming against his skin knowing what it would do to him.
Luke: It probably didn't, but that didn't mean Luke wouldn't react to the touch.
His breath caught in his throat as his thighs closed around Q's hand. He wouldn't let the moan building in his chest escape.
Q: "Do you want me to stop?" he whispered.
Luke: Luke shook his head.
Q: Then he would continue to squeeze.
"Tell me when to stop." He would unzip him if allowed, though his hand would not dip on the other side just yet. He wanted to gauge his reaction. Luke's security was his number one concern.
Tane/Luke: Tane had stopped mid-chop to watch the scene unfolding on the couch, eyes alight with quiet but very focused interest. He could tell Luke was holding back some, which wasn't a surprise at all, but what he wasn't holding back? Now that was a beautiful sight to behold.
Luke was clinging to Q, hiding his face against the bartender's neck. His lower half was starting to give jerky little movements, clearly aching for more but again, holding himself back.
Q: Squeeze after squeeze without relief. He wanted to torture, just enough to coax a beautiful sound from his companion. Give me something more, his fingers commanded, his lips plead, nuzzling in order to capture that perfect mouth.
Tane/Luke: It was the kiss that did him in. He never could resist those wonderful lips, much less control his reaction to them. Especially not when they were paired with those fingers.
The softest, sweetest little whimper finally managed to escape him, making him hide more at the same moment Tane felt a shock of lust go straight to his groin.
Q: Q's smile would have hurt had he allowed it in full. He had suspected such gentle and submissive noises from this man. Opposite of his brawny and hirsute body. Now there was a witness, a willing audience. Despite his assumption, it had not prepared his body for its reaction.
That cock belonged in his mouth. He asked permission in his ear, and kissed it.
Tane/Luke: Permission was given with another soft whimper. His body's need was successfully trumping his shyness, although not entirely. Absent Q's neck, Luke would be hiding his face in the couch pillow again.
Meanwhile, Tane had given up on cooking entirely in favor of watching the two men on the couch. His hands were itching to touch but he didn't dare approach. This situation was still so new and fragile.
Q: Slowly, with the same attentiveness as Tane, Q dropped to his knees. No sudden movements. His shirt was raised. Open mouth kisses and tongue across and around his navel.
Luke: Luke clung to the pillow like a man clinging to a life preserver. Behind it, his face was bright red and his breathing was quickening. It was just now hitting him that Q wouldn't be the only person seeing...well. A tiny part of his brain wondered what Tane would think. Of him, of this situation, of his reactions. What if he didn't like--
The potential litany of 'what if's' was cut off by Q's wandering mouth.
Luke's breath hitched, hips moving in an attempt to follow the affection. More. He wanted more.
Q: His gaze quickly turned to Tane, questioning his appeal. His crotch was studied and admired.
Flesh was softly bitten. Nudity was the logic in which to follow. But first, "Luke. Look at me. Tell me if this is okay."
Tane/Luke: The appeal and Tane's response to it was written all over his face and reflected in his eyes and his stance. All of his attention was on Luke and on the erection nestled against the soft looking blond hair on his abdomen. He wanted to touch so badly. Would Q be able to tell? Would Luke?
It took a few long seconds, but eventually the pillow lowered just enough for Luke to be able to peer over the top. He could feel Tane's gaze even without meeting it.
He nodded. "It's okay," he whispered.
Q: Wasn't he just beautiful, Tane? That golden hair and sun kissed skin from his weekends of soccer. His shyness, his masculinity, his femininity. He was just so fuckable.
The approval given, he smiled, kissed his stomach one more. "I'm going to undress you now. Want to undress me? Take my shirt off."
Tane/Luke: Absolutely beautiful, and all the more so because he strongly suspected Luke had no idea.
Luke whimpered softly again, burrowing his face against the pillow once more. Just for a little while though. The thought of being able to feel Q's bare skin against his was too appealing to pass up.
Very carefully, the pillow was set aside and the hem of Q's shirt grabbed. Up and over his head it went.
Q: Good. That's exactly what he wanted to see. He raised his arms and chuckled, allowing Luke to keep the garment if he wanted to.
"You're so fucking edible," he teased, nipping softly at his stomach (again) before giving the same treatment.
Luke: Oh, he was keeping it. It was soft and smelled like Q and that was even more comforting than having a pillow to hide his face with.
Ah ha, Q finally managed to get a teeny little smile from Luke! "Edible?" he asked quietly, feeling all warm and glowy and squirmy inside when Q gave more affection to his stomach.
Q: "Mhm. I'm gonna just eat you up, Mr. Graham." Starting with those lips. His tongue offered only a heartbeat into their touch.
Luke: There was a soft chuckle that turned into a soft, dreamy sigh at the kiss. If Q's shirt was a comfort, then his kisses were where Luke felt most at ease, most relaxed, most free to be himself and enjoy.
He let go of Q's shirt in favor of clinging to the man himself, wrapping his arms around his pretend boyfriend's neck to bring him closer.
"Promise?" Luke whispered.
Q: Those needy arms did things to him. This man had been one of his favorite clients. He would become a fond memory when the time came.
Those warm arms were kissed, followed again by his lips.
"I promise I'll eat you nice and slow."
Luke: Shy, embarrassed Luke seemed to be dissipating with every new kiss, allowing more and more of smiley, loving, needy Luke to shine through who hummed into every kiss and made a tiny noise of protest if Q's lips moved away for any reason.
"And you'll give me all the kisses?"
Q: "Every single kiss you want from me."
It was time to remove every article of clothing between them. His pacing was no longer slow and mindful. He felt confident in himself and Luke to move forward, to relax and trust Luke's response to Tane's gaze.
Tane/Luke: "I want a million," he said, smiling so brightly Tane felt his heart clench across the room.
He felt like he was walking a fine line between appreciating the sight of Q rapidly undressing Luke and making him uncomfortable, but from the looks of things he was successfully staying on the appreciation side. He might've even taken a step or two closer.
It was all he could do to keep himself from heading directly to the couch to see if that chest hair was as soft as it looked.
For Luke's part, he was helping Q undress him and returning the favor, resuming his clinging the moment they were both completely bare. And that lovely neck? Well it had gone far too long without some affection. As had those shoulders. And that chest.
Q: Q closed his eyes and allowed Luke to seduce him. His body was warm with life and appropriately turgid. He leaned closer to whisper his proposal.
"Do you want to make love to me? Do you want to watch Tane's hands on me?"
Tane/Luke: The proposal may have been whispered, but Luke's reaction was more akin to it having been shouted. They'd only switched roles once or twice before, and it had never been in a situation quite like this.
Still, the idea of loving on Q and watching someone else do the same.....it had an appeal that made his heart race.
He looked from Q to Tane's stunned face and nodded very slowly.
Q: Q didn't want to put Luke in a position so vulnerable as to be the submissive in Tane's presence. It was a choice he made, but one Luke could refuse if he wanted, which was why it had been a question. He was mindful of those wide eyes and what they were truly saying.
"Yes to both?" He wanted his answer clear.
Luke: It was a consideration Luke would be immensely grateful for later on. The fact that Q gave his comfort such priority and took such care with his trust made Luke treasure him that much more. No one had ever had a better boyfriend, real or pretend.
Another nod. "Yes to both."
Q: One more kiss, one more gentle, loving, slow kiss before turning around, exposed, to Tane Lukela.
"He wants your hands on me."
Tane/Luke: That one kiss was all it took to have Luke practically melting in Q's arms, and have Tane's heart melting along with him.
He gave a single nod before shutting off the stove and washing his hands. When he approached, he did so slowly, waiting for Luke's go ahead before closing the rest of the distance.
Q: Q watched his approach and wanted to laugh. He was so damn cautious. As cute as it was, he could bet it was appreciated by the beautiful nude man beside him.
"I think you're too clothed, but that's my opinion," he grinned.
Tane/Luke: It absolutely was; as was Q's opinion on Tane's current state. Appreciated and shared.
Tane chuckled softly. "Is it now? Then I better do something about that." Starting with his shirt. It was pulled up and over his head, tossed onto the coffee table. "Naked enough yet, gorgeous?"
Q: "You tell him when to stop, Luke. I sure enjoy the fucking view." Goddamn eye candy is what Big T was.
Tane/Luke: Eye candy was right. Luke didn't think people who looked like Tane existed in real life, yet here they were.
All it took was a glance to Tane's belt and off it came.
Tane was hyper-focused on this tiny blond lawyer, you see. Everywhere those eyes went was exposed to his view.
Shoes and socks followed the belt, then his jeans....and then his boxer briefs.
Q: Q leaned back and watched their silent exchange, marveled at their living Adonis and proceeded to touch himself with gusto. In that moment, life was completely and utterly perfect.
………………………………………………………………………
Rohan: To an onlooker, it would be astounding that Rohan managed to move so much while moving so little. MJ was being explored to both their hearts' content all without being denied the safety and comfort of Rohan's embrace.
He wanted his vampire to be delirious with pleasure, to feel nothing but a warm glow as Rohan made love to him. And this was most certainly making love.
While his lips delivered an onslaught of kisses, his hands eased and explored. Rohan wanted MJ to get accustomed to not only his touch, but being touched in all those lovely intimate places he had yet to explore and learn. The length of him was traced with feather light strokes, his sac cupped with the gentlest pressure.
MJ: The warmth of those hands was almost too much for his pale cold skin. The intimate fondling caused shivers up his spine and into his lungs. Another first.
"You're wearin' too much," he purred.
Rohan: "By all means," he whispered, peppering kisses along MJ's chest. "Feel free to rid me of all this cumbersome fabric."
MJ: With pleasure, he thought. Sitting up, he began with the belt, ripping one of the belt loops and sending it flying across the room. His short trimmed nails lightly raked over his hip. He continued with the jeans, wishing he could breathe life and celebrate being with this man the way he deserved.
"D'ya...love me?"
Rohan: Rohan laughed softly as his belt went flying, watching to make sure it didn't hit (and break) anything valuable.
The laugh was short-lived, however, soon replaced with a fond smile and appreciative hum. He adored those cool hands and the man they belonged to. Surely MJ would be able to see it in his eyes. And if he couldn't, Rohan's kisses and murmured endearments should show him.
"Yes, puiule," he whispered against his vampire's lips. "I love you." If his declaration halted things in their tracks so be it. MJ needed to hear the words.
MJ: His vampire - his? - stared up at the witch with blank expression. The expectation had been succeeded by truth. Had he breath to lose it would have vacated.
"I... You..."
Rohan: He smiled, kissed him again. "I love you, MJ." Another kiss. "I love you."
MJ: "Thanks." The realization of his reply caused a headache like cringe. "Not that. The fuck would I say that - I...I...love ya, too."
Rohan: That just made his smile grow more. It was such an MJ response, and that made his heart just as happy as the 'I love you, too'.
Rohan held MJ close, hands briefly abandoned his vampire's groin to hold him properly and drown him in kisses. This was a beautiful moment; it had to be savored. "I love you so much," he whispered.
MJ: "Alright, alright," he laughed. "Don't make it all mushy. We...We got love. So, back t'sex, right?" Oh no. Sex with...romance? Love? More emotional and tender than any night before.
"I shoulda asked after ya fucked me."
Rohan: Rohan gave him one more kiss, just to make really sure his vampire knew how much he was loved.
"Whether I said it aloud first or not, the sex would've been emotional. You would've been able to feel my love even if you didn't hear it."
MJ: "S'why I asked," he said softly. "Just had a feelin'. You're too sweet t'me, old man."
Rohan: "I'm exactly as sweet as I'm meant to be. And you, are very intuitive." Maybe just one more kiss.
"Do you still want to...?" It was fine if he didn't. There had been a lot of emotional intensity today.
MJ: One more? They would have many. "Yeah. Yeah, of course." Of course he said. What the fuck are you doing, his mind exclaimed.
Rohan: If MJ wanted many, there would be many, along with all the loving touches Rohan's two hands were capable of.
"Are you sure? We don't have to. I know it's a lot."
MJ: "If ya keep sayin' that I'll never go through with it," he laughed.
Rohan: "Nothing wrong with that, puiule," he said with a soft smile, letting his hands roam below MJ's waist again. "Promise me you'll tell me if you want me to stop or slow down." He kissed his vampire's shoulder. "Your comfort is the most important thing." A kiss to his chest as his hand gently cupped MJ's sac. "Your comfort and your pleasure."
MJ: MJ swallowed and licked his lips. Somehow he'd forgotten what that felt like. He placed his hand over Rohan's wrist. Closer. Harder.
"I'm fine. Keep doin' that."
Rohan: Rohan obligingly increased the pressure, massaging more firmly, occasionally stroking MJ's length from base to tip and back down to his scrotum.
MJ: Blood had to be willed between his legs. The act nearly took him from the scene, but the witch's lips fueled him. Softly, he hummed.
Rohan: Rohan smiled against his vampire's lips, giving him an approving and gentle squeeze.
"That's it, puiule. You're doing so well." His lips began to migrate lower. "So beautiful."
MJ: That feminine sensation again. He shivered, brought his hands to Rohan's hair and squeezed. So lucky, he thought. So unworthy. Tonight, this moment, this was for Rohan. Giving in to his nature was an indulgence.
"What d'ya wanna do t'me?"
Rohan: "Love you," Rohan said simply, kissing just below MJ's navel. Tonight his vampire was going to be positively worshipped and thoroughly pleasured.
A soft, open-mouthed kiss was placed on the tip of MJ's cock. "All of you."
MJ: Oh. More familiar. Not quite sensational, but the mere idea of Rohan's mouth against him was enough for the butterflies to flap their wings.
"Love ya, too. I wanna taste ya. Let me taste ya."
Rohan: "Of course you can," he purred, nuzzling and kissing MJ's scrotum. "Where do you want to taste, puiule?"
MJ: "Sit on my face, Ro. We can have each other."
Rohan: "Mmm, I like the sound of that." He liked it very much.
He leaned up to give MJ a proper kiss before straddling him and adjusting positions, making sure MJ was comfortable before continuing his exploration and letting his vampire explore.
MJ: His mind wandered to the first time he had ever kissed someone. To the warmth of their lips. The sloppy urgency. The fumbling hands which followed. None of which felt present tonight. Every move Rohan ever made was deliberate. He was beautiful and mature. Even now, with his body for the taking. He was brought into his mouth, tasted and played with, with two uncertain hands.
Rohan: MJ was immediately rewarded with a soft moan. It didn't matter how uncertain his hands were; Rohan loved their touch, loved his vampire's mouth's attention. And he wasn't shy about making his pleasure or his approval known, and he definitely wasn't shy about lavishing every single inch of MJ's groin with affection.
He kissed and tasted his cock and his sac and his thighs, lips gentle and thorough. "Beautiful," Rohan murmured to himself, pressing a kiss to MJ's abdomen as he petted over his entrance.
MJ: Fuck. This was Rohan Delca. He might as well be a prince, or an angel. The man was meant to be worshipped. He was so elegant and intelligent and yet somehow tolerant and patient - didn't he grow tired of being so wholesome? Somehow this man loved him. He would never deserve him.
Which was motivation in his attempt to offer himself as one of the druid's best experiences. He kissed every available inch of perfect skin and massaged firm muscle.
Oh. His legs spread submissively. More touches, please. Invade me at your will. Love me with your fingers and mouth.
Rohan: That was precisely what Rohan intended to do. The word 'beautiful' played on a loop over and over in his head as he reached for the lube and generously coated one finger, never ceasing his lavish kisses and warm little nuzzles against MJ's cock.
He petted over his vampire's entrance again with his now prepped finger, circling it slowly, getting it nice and wet before he even thought of breaching it, however slightly. At first, of course. He wanted MJ to get used to the touch and the feeling of being penetrated before he took things further. He'd work slowly and carefully, letting MJ control the pace while making sure every moment of the process was as pleasurable as possible.
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xreaderfic-land · 7 years ago
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What Lies Beneath Part 12 Red Hood (Jason Todd) X Reader
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Summary: Coming back home to Gotham after several years was a tough choice, but you needed to put the past behind you. You blame yourself for Jason’s death and hope that with a medical degree you can have a second chance at saving the kids of Gotham’s streets, but the past won’t stay buried. As the Red Hood invites himself into your life and the little safe bubble of a lie you call life bursts you’re left struggling to cope. Your secret studying of toxins used by Gotham’s villains is sure to land you in hot water eventually, but you’re always up for a challenge. Life is a game of survival and it’s time you joined in.
Co-Author: @inkteller-17 Tags: @jason-todd-rh @totallynotashieldagent @exotiicqueen494 @dragons-of-the-usa   @shadowsndaisies @e-equals-mcommunism-squared   @icycoldbeanieweanies
Tags OPEN Word Count: 2,685 WARNINGS: Language I Think?
Catch Up Here
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The sounds of the hospital buzzed in your head as you tried to focus on the document copied in your phone. Leaning back in your chair your eyes glossed over the cure notes you’d been continually tweaking. It had been several days of work, fixing your apartment, and resurrecting the cure into a 2.0 version.
Your fingers hovered over the phone’s screen ready to add another note when it lite up with a call from one of the nurses on your floor.
“Hello?” You answered calmly.
“Dr. Y/L/N, one of the girls has begun to stir.” The nurse’s tone was lined with excitement making you smile.
Two twins had been admitted into Gotham City Hospital with severe symptoms relating to the toxin. While your fellow staff still remained dismissive of the isolated sickness spreading among the street kids whenever they trickled in you kept the lead on the cases.
You’d discovered that the kids who got admitted now, while still severely sick, at least had remnants of your old cure in their systems. That little boost allowed them to not immediately code blue and flat line. Instead, it gave you the chance to inject them, in secret and completely against hospital regulations, with your new working cure.
That’s what you’d done for little Sawyer and Sookie when they’d arrived. Hearing that at least one of them was starting to express signs of progress was more than a little relieving. It meant you were on the right track again.
“I’ll be right up.” You replied after a moment.
Ending the call you jumped from your seat and gathered what was left of your lunch. Skipping the elevator you took the stairs to your floor.
Your passed quick greetings to patients and colleagues as you went. Upon arriving at your floor one of the nurses motioned at a stack of files you would have to collect later and flip through.
Weaving your way toward the room you easily spied the nurse from the phone going through a slow check on little Sawyer.
Walking up to the end of the bed you gathered Sawyer’s file into your hands and looked through it out of habit. You’d already memorized her file along with any other kid that’d come in with symptoms.
Closing the file you gave Sawyer a soft smile as the nurse helped her sit up.
“I’ll have room service bring you a pitcher of water and some dry food to nibble on. Hopefully, you can start to eat more solid foods.”
The nurse spoke softly convincing you she had little ones of her own at home while Sawyer groggily nodded. As the nurse disappeared to continue her rounds you moved to slide the glass door shut.
You eased down at the foot of Sawyer’s bed, “How are you feeling?”
Sawyer’s eyes were unfocused as she tried to process everything happening around her. You watched as panic slowly filled her eyes.
“Your sister is there.” You kept your voice soft while pointing at the adjacent bed. Sawyer’s shoulders relaxed some at seeing her sister.
“Why isn’t she awake too?”
Your lips thinned momentarily, “The medicine is just taking longer to work on her. She’s going to be fine just like you.”
Sawyer released a shuddering breath before letting her eyes slip closed. Sawyer had woken several times while in your care and had been giving you a lot of feedback. All her little comments during your visits were more than a little helpful.
Your eyes studied all the machinery leading to Sawyer’s form before really focusing on her. You knew it was taxing for her to stay awake for too long given the new ferocity of the toxin. One of the many side effects she was enduring.
Your heart ached for the little girl forced to experience the symptoms, even if a little muted, while her sister passed through them unconscious.
“Dr. Y/L/N?” Sawyer whispered.
Snapping to, “Yes?”
Several heartbeats passed before Sawyer was dragging in a breath and forcing her eyes open to stare at you. A weight settled deep in your stomach at her words.
“Am I going to die?” She asked her voice was small and soft.
Your teeth clenched as you scooted closer to the little girl, “Not if I can help it.”
Sawyer didn’t even respond facially before turning her head to stare at her sister.
Watching the two girls, the need to ask how they’d both managed to even get more sick burned your tongue. You’d refrained from asking in exchange for focusing on the task at hand, but the lull in things reopened the opportunity.
Inhaling deeply you braced yourself.
“Sawyer I need to-”
Before you could say anything more the room door was sliding open causing you to spin around. A burly man wearing scrubs and a hairnet carried in a dingy yellow cafeteria tray before silently setting it on the bedside table.
You silently studied the man for a moment and noted his nametag displaying ‘Butch’ as he deposited the tray. Moving off the bed you went about removing the lid from the selected food for Sawyer.
Handing the cup of water to Sawyer you felt eyes watching you. Looking up across the bed you found Butch still standing there.
“Thank you, you may leave now.” Your tone came out stern while you leveled him with a dismissive look.
The man glared at you slightly before leaving the room. Shaking your head you collected the now empty cup from Sawyer and watched as she grabbed for the Teddy Grahams on the tray.
You smiled at her eagerness to eat something after refusing the last few days.
“Dr. Y/L/N?” Sawyer spoke around a mouth full of crackers.
“Yes?” You laughed.
Sawyer leaned forward slightly and dropped her voice low, “Where is Red?”
Your eyes immediately shot around checking that no one had heard her. Releasing a breath after a moment you sat back down at the edge of her bed.
“He’s busy with his hero stuff.” You replied.
Sawyer nodded before dropping her empty baggie and sighing. You noted her breathing was still too labored for your liking.
“Here’s the call button and television remote. If you can get some more rest, okay?” You gave a small smile as you stood.
Sawyer gave a weak nod and you knew she’d be out sooner rather than later. The strand of toxin Sawyer had been exposed to was laced with mean variations of respiratory issues. The toll it put on her body kept her wiped for energy.
Sliding the glass door shut you pulled your phone from your pocket and called Red. Shouldering your phone you went about flipping through another patient’s file as you passed their room.
“Hey, what’s up?” Red answered out of breath.
Your brows rose, “Um, good. What are you doing?”
Harsh breathing and grunts sounded through the receiver for a moment, “Oh you know just stuff.” Red gave a quick curse before you heard the phone drop.
Setting the file back into its door holder you waited.
“Shit, sorry, you still there?” Red asked panting.
“Yeah. For real though what are you doing?” You asked with a laugh.
Red cleared his throat, “Uh, workout drills.”
“Uh huh.” You said while stepping into one of the unused waiting rooms. Propping your shoulder against a wall you put your back toward the rest of the floor and dropped your voice, “I wanted to update you on something.”
The sound of fabric shifting sounded for a moment, “Oh?”
“I managed to sneak a dose of the new cure into two girls who were admitted recently, and it’s looking promising.” You told him.
“Wait, whoa, back up. You what?” Red said shocked.
You huffed a breath, “I had to do something Red. They were previously exposed to the first cure and if I hadn’t dosed them with the new one--”
“Shh, wait. Y/N, you dosed them at the hospital?” Red said slowly in disbelief.
“Yes.” You replied flatly.
“Isn’t that like super illegal?” Red asked you.
“Let me worry about that, Red.” You replied shortly.
“No, I will worry about. I know we hang out a lot but I never took you as the reckless type. You could easily get caught, then what? You need to be--” Red started in on you, but you quickly cut him off.
“I swear to God Red if you say I need to be careful I will flush your entire pack of cigarettes. I have been careful. I am being careful.” You stressed.
Red huffed a breath, “Listen I’m glad it’s working. I really am, but I don’t think you jeopardizing your job is one hundred percent necessary.”
“I called to tell you good news and you’re lecturing me?” You said soberly.
Red made a noise of frustration, “Okay, this could be going better. Listen, how about we talk more about this over dinner?”
You blinked, “What are you asking?”
“If you want food.” Red said blatantly.
“I know what dinner is smartass.” You said with a laugh, “I mean ‘what’ as in are you asking me out on an actual date?”
Red snorted before replying, his tone hesitant, “I mean if you want to label it--”
“Yes, I will go to dinner with you.” You cut him off once again.
“Good, because I legit already made reservations,” Red said with a snort.
Your interest peaked, “Oh? Where?”
“This amazing place called your kitchen,” Red answered.
You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing out loud as you turned around and headed toward the nurse's station.
“Sounds dreamy, Red. Listen, I have to get going and finish my paperwork.” You said lowly.
“Alright, see ya,” Red said curtly already distracted by something else.
“Bye.” You spoke while ending the call.
Gathering the pile of offered files you smiled at the nurses before heading toward your office.  You were completely unaware of the dark figure standing in the shadows. Butch had heard everything that he needed to hear. He couldn’t wait to report this to Edward.
Joker was not one of Butch’s favorite people. And he knew that once Edward ruled Gotham that he would be able to rule alongside him. That’s all Butch wanted was to have control and say what happened in Gotham.
As he walked down the back hallway Butch stripped out of his scrubs. There was a car waiting for him at the back of the hospital. Once locked away inside, Butch ordered the driver to take him directly to Edward.
Across town in Edward’s little place, Butch didn’t even bother to knock before entering. Edward sat the table working on one of his little riddles that he loved so much. Edward looked up when Butch entered. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Well?” Edward asked.
“The little witch has worked on another cure and it’s successful. She saved two little girls that were brought in to the hospital,” Butch reported.
Edward grinned.
“Butch we’re one step closer,” Edward said.
“So what do we do now, boss?” Butch asked.
“We be good dutiful followers and tell Joker,” Edward said.
“How is that going to help us take over Gotham?” Butch asked.
“We keep supporting Joker in this mess then Batman and his bratboys will take him down. While they are distracted with Joker we can rally together and take over Gotham,” Edward explained.
Butch nodded. “So Joker is the bait?”
“Exactly!” Edward clapped.
Abandoning his riddle, Edward grabbed his jacket and his hat.
“Let’s go, Butch, we have a message to deliver,” Edward said.
Together the pair headed to Joker’s warehouse to fill him in on what Butch discovered.
At the warehouse, Edward and Butch found Joker draped in his chair. Harley sat in his lap, chomping on bubble gum while Joker played with her hair.
“You two are back so soon,” Joker said.
“Butch works fast,” Edward said leaning against his cane.
Joker and Harley finally looked over at them.
“Butch, already got the information that we need?” Joker asked.
Edward grinned and Butch nodded.
“So Butch,” Joker began. “Just what did you find out?”
Butch glanced over at Edward. Edward nodded at him giving him the okay to tell Joker what he overheard at the hospital.
“The girl contacted Red Hood directly. Twin girls were brought in with symptoms of the virus. She’s definitely been working on a new cure. She injected them both with her new one. The one girl is bouncing back the other not so much, but it won’t be long before the second girl wakes up.” Butch explained.
“So she has a working cure again?” Joker asked.
“Seems like it,” Butch answered.
“So much for her being out of your hair,” Edward commented.
Joker growled and shoved Harley out of his lap.
“Puddin’!” She exclaimed.
“Sorry, doll, but I need you to go and find Hatter and Firefly,” Joker said.
Pouting, Harley stood, she brushed the dirt from her before hurrying off to find Hatter and Firefly.
“Do you still need us?” Edward asked.
“Don’t you want to be in on the plan?” Joker asked.
Butch and Edward both nodded.
Several moments passed before Harley returned with Hatter and Firefly in tow. Joker held his hand out to Harley. She skipped over to him and took his hand in hers. He kissed the back of her hand before turning his attention to the others.
“I have a project for the two of you,�� Joker started.
“What is it?” Firefly asked.
“I need the two of you to head to Gotham Hospital,” Joker said.
“What exactly do we need to do?” Hatter asked.
“It’s time things got a little explosive around here,” Joker said with a grin.
Firefly screeched and started to bounce up and down.
“You’re going to blow up the hospital?” Edward asked.
Joker laughed.
Butch looked at his boss. This definitely wasn’t part of their plan.
“That little bitch can’t keep saving the lives of Gotham citizens if she doesn’t have the supplies to do so,” Joker said.
Firefly was still bouncing up and down in excitement.
“This is my area!” She grinned.
“I know. So don’t let me down,” Joker said.
Firefly grabbed Hatter by the hand and started to drag him out of the warehouse. Harley was draping herself across Joker.
“Let’s go celebrate Puddin’!” She grinned.
Joker looked back at Edward and Butch.
“Good work. We’ll see you guys later,” Joker beamed before letting Harley drag him out of the large room and down to their bedroom.
Butch looked up at Edward.
“Now what do we do?” Butch asked.
For the first time in his life, Edward Nygma was lost for words.
Across Gotham
“Any plans tonight Y/n?” Nurse Mariah asked.
You grinned. “Just dinner with a friend,”
Mariah wiggled her eyebrows and you laughed.
“Get your head out of the gutter, Mariah,” You said.
Mariah continued to wiggle her eyebrows at you.
“It’s about time you got some,” Mariah teased.
“You’re the absolute worse!” You laughed.
The two of you entered the elevator together. You pulled your bag higher up your shoulder as Mariah hit the ground level button.
“And what about you? Any plans with Adam tonight?” You asked as the elevator began to descend.
Mariah rolled her eyes.
“What was that for?” You asked.
“I’m already growing bored with him,” Mariah admitted.
“Mariah, you’ve only been with him for a few weeks!” You exclaimed.
Mariah busted out in a fit of giggles.
“I know, but ya know, he just isn’t doing it for me anymore,” Mariah said.
You pretended to gag. You watched as the elevator hit the ground level. The two of you kept up your conversation. As the doors to the elevator slid open a loud boom filled your ears. A gasp escaped your lips as you were suddenly thrown backward. Your back slammed into the wall. The breath was knocked out of you. As you lay there trying to catch your breath your vision began to go black and all you could hear was screaming.
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gigilberry-wips · 6 years ago
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20 Facts About Charlotte (and family) That The Readers Will Not Be Given In The Story
So here I am trying to organize my thoughts and do some character building in order to answer some questions about my oc that someone was very nice to ask and which I still need to come up with answers for, carry on with your business don’t mind me
(for those who’re sticking around to read this, a warning: this is long as heck)
1. Charlie was known as that kid who’d always be full of questions and giving the adults a run for their money “Why do crocodiles have big noses?” “Where does the moon go?” “Why don’t humans have claws? Aren’t they more useful than fingernails?” “Why do people sleep?” “Why are we supposed to do this? Why can’t we do that?” “Why can’t we ask questions? How would anyone learn things if they don’t ask questions??”
2. In her family she’s closest to her older brother. She doesn’t always share her concerns with him but when she comes to him with her thoughts and questions she trusts his words.
3. One time she read in a book where a meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup was described so delectably that for one entire month she insisted on having that at least once a day (it’s like what happened with me and when I read about the ‘bread and butterflies’ from “Through The Looking Glass” and now if anyone ever offered me a towering stack of heavily buttered toast with an ocean of horrifically sugary milk tea I swear I will devour the whole thing no hesitation). She stopped being so vocally fussed with them after that but she never really got over it. So if, whenever she might see either one of those two (or both!!) in the wilds, be it in person or on television or if she just catches the smell of it, and if you happen to be looking at her already then you just might catch her making The. Biggest. Heart Eyes. Like the love of her life has appeared before her and she is going to run into their arms and both of them will head off into the sunset.
4. Her favorite things to get on Christmas and her birthday are “fun science projects for kids”, or puzzle and strategy games, or books that had riddles, secret codes, recipes, more experiments, and especially made-up languages in them. She’s filled entire notebooks with the languages that she’s learnt from books, from Morse Code to Tolkien elvish, and she can easily recall many of them from memory. She knows a lot of the most common kinds of numerical puzzles and algorithms that have been used, and partially due to that and partially because of how good she is in math she frequently makes computer related jokes about herself.
5. Charlie’s brother is doing an internship at a nearby aerospace museum and planetarium. He’s currently studying for a degree in astronomy and engineering and works as one of the technicians there, and about once a month Charlie’s family goes to visit and have a picnic nearby and spend the day there. Since it’s so close, her brother is able to go from home and usually drops her and her friends off to school in the mornings in his old, beat-up car because he’s a good brother and he loves his sister.
6. One time when Charlotte was little (about 7-8) she was loaned a textbook from her school about famous people that she had to do her homework from. Her brother caught her scribbling in it with a pencil one time and found out that she was replacing all the pronouns of the historical figures in it (Mr. Miss Alexander Graham Bell, he she invented, Mr. Miss Albert Einstein, he she discovered, etc.).
(She didn’t really have the words for it back then but essentially she was doing this because all of these Oh So Important People Of History(TM) Who Did Oh So Important Things(TM) were different from her and she was very strongly aware of that and it made her really, really angry. She thought that if the only thing anyone was ever going to teach her was White Man History(TM) and that’s the only thing that ever existed since the dawn of time and that’s the only thing she’d ever learn then she wasn’t just gonna sit there and swallow that like the rest of her classmates, thank you.)
The next day he bought her a book about famous women in history from all around the world. She read it cover to cover and has kept that book with her to this very day. It’s got pictures like this in it too :D -
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[image description] Three women (left to right: Indian, Japanese, and Syrian) who graduated from the Women’s Medical College of Pennsylvania in 1886
This is also one of the reasons why she likes Star Trek so much, and why she wants to learn so many languages.
[Edit: if anyone’s wondering, her brother’s the one who erased the pencil marks from her textbook. He told her since she’s the one who did it then she should be the one to remove it. But she refused to do it and she did not say sorry either. He knew she’d get in trouble if he told his parents or anyone about it, or if it was left alone, so he sat down with an eraser and methodically went through the book with it himself.
Charlie neither offered to help nor stopped him (she could’ve if she’d wanted to, she had cheeto crumbs on her fingers and she could’ve smeared them in the book or poked her brother with them but she didn’t); she just attached herself to his side and quietly glared because that textbook is Enemy #1 and no one should touch it as his hand patiently went through page after page and removed all traces of her vandalism]
7. Charlie loves her hair. When she was little one of her favorite shows was My Little Pony (don’t tell anyone but she still has a soft spot for it) and she wanted to have bright, colorful hair just like the other ponies did. One of her cousins was very fashion savvy and when she told her this, her cousin showed her all the fun hairstyles she could do with her own hair instead. She’s been growing out her hair ever since. Now Charlie and her brother are Long Hair Siblings(TM). :D
8. On the other hand, Charlie despises make up. When she was little she noticed that almost the only people that were on make up advertisements were white women, so in her head she thought that meant those pretty women owned the make up companies, right? Well, she looked it up and learned that the people who really owned the companies were not those women but instead ugly old men and that was when she came to the conclusion that advertisements are all full of lies and not to be trusted (also she learnt later that silicone rubber is used in making water proof mascara and her brain is forever scarred with that knowledge and now so is yours :DD)
9. When she got her first loose tooth she heard about the tooth fairy and how she takes teeth and leaves money. So her natural course of action was to look up the price of human teeth online. Then she took the case up with her father and told him all about her findings and how the tooth fairy was basically scamming everybody and should not be trusted. He found this entertaining enough that the morning after she lost her tooth she found a 2 dollar bill under her pillow. She kept it away safely and once she had enough “tooth money” she bought a whole set of glitter gel pens with it.
10. The number of times Charlie’s gone to a party can be counted on one hand, and that’s only because she was forced to go. One such house she’s frequented is one of her aunt’s and after all these years the only name she knows from there is the cat’s, whose name is Toast but she thought that was boring so in her head she renamed her as Clementine. She hasn’t told anyone else that she’s never learnt anyone else’s name but she has the feeling her brother knows.
11. She loves cats. She loves them so much. She was always such a solemn and serious little girl but the moment she saw a cat it’s like watching a toddler wandering after a butterfly. Abso-lutely adorable. She has these knitted cat socks and 2 cat plushies (one more worn than the other) and when she was 11 her parents let her and her brother adopt an orange kitten and she got to name it Tigger after one of her favorite childhood characters. In her friend group there are so many cat puns surrounding her. So many. (half of them are her own btw)
12. Charlotte is bisexual. I remember reading somewhere that it’s unrealistic to just have one lgbt kid all by their lonesome in any story worth telling and I agreed with that. I’ve also heard about the “disaster bisexual” troupe. In my cast of characters the one that fits it the most is Josie, so me being myself I flipped that troupe and instead made the most calm and collected one the bisexual kid (so instead of a disaster bisexual(TM) what we have is a distinguished bisexual(TM), thank you and good night). It’s not mentioned in the story because this story is told from Laila’s point of view and Charlie hasn’t told anyone about her sexuality, not her friends, not her family, not anyone. She learnt about it earlier than Laila did (when she was 13), but like it’s said in her intro she’s a very cautious and private person and it’ll take her a long time to think about something so personal openly let alone talk about it with anyone. I want to talk about this more in a separate post, and I’ve got a one shot planned that’ll focus on this too.
(Edit: so it turns out Charlie is in fact a bit of a disaster human and when I told her she comes off as smart and polished and good at judging people’s intentions she turned around and told me she also hisses under her breath at things she doesn’t like, lives in her room like it’s one giant nest, and sometimes forgets to eat and i find it too annoying to argue with my strong willed daughter so here we are goddamn)
13. For Charlie, feelings are ... awkward. They’re messy and confusing, and when she’s feeling too many things she needs a lot of alone time to sort through them and understand them. It’s not that she doesn’t feel anything, it’s just that she can’t usually identify what she feels from the whirlwind in her head in any proper way. And when people need comforting she doesn’t feel like she’s the best person for the job. But that’s not going to stop her from trying to help; if one of her friends comes to her with a problem then she’s going to help them find logical solutions to those problems. She knows her strengths and she tries her best to use them.
14. She finds it hard to cry. Even when she’s feeling too many things and she really wants to cry (because she thinks maybe that’ll help her, at least it’s scientifically proven to help) the tears won’t always come. Aside from early childhood, she can count on one hand the number of times she’s cried, and half of them are from when she was exhausted or shocked with sudden feelings. The other times feel random to her and often at odds with each other. (She can’t force herself to cry, she can’t fake her own emotions.)
15. One of the few times she remembers crying was the first time she saw the Aurora Borealis. She saw it in a movie theater, not in person, but to her it was like seeing the real thing. She was little at the time and when she saw it she was just - she was overwhelmed. She was overwhelmed with so many feelings, like happiness and beauty and wonderment. When they came out of the theater and her family saw her still crying they all started freaking out, until she tried to explain it to them (she was really choked up but she tried). She remembered describing it something like, “It’s like seeing music ... Mama, I think I saw music.” she counts this as the one time she expressed her words so artistically she doesn’t know how but she did. it was also one of those rare times she was envious of artistic people for being able to express human emotions so well (there’s that part in The Tale of Despereaux when he said that he “heard honey” when what he’d really heard was music that comes to my mind). Later, she was told what the lights were called and she decided then and there that if she ever had a daughter then she’d name her Aurora (no papa, not from Sleeping Beauty, this is different!). It was also around this time that she really got into learning about space.
16. Charlie’s a night owl. She loves being awake when all the world is asleep. She loves the silence and the clarity she feels in her thoughts when there is no one else around.
17. Charlotte has an “all things pink and glitter” obsession that she never quite grew out of and never really plans to. Her room is pink, her glasses are pink, her stationary is pink, most of her clothes are pink, and her favorite Care Bear and My Little Pony characters are also pink.
18. She got her glasses when she was around 10, and she even got to choose them herself. :D The sad thing was that she was only one of 2 kids in her grade who had glasses and the other one was who she considered to be an annoying prat, but the good news was that at least 3 girls in her year got braces and one of them was nice and called her glasses pretty and also she was the only one who’d done her braces sparkly so there.
19. Most her life she never had close friends. She was always considered too smart and aloof for them. She had her nose stuck in books and she always got the best grades in her year. She was also really good at chess and strategy games and not to brag but she’s even one a few awards for this and this quality was always something that alarmed and frustrated people to no end (read: boys who wanted to prank her and various arrogant, would-be bullies) when she would know all sorts of things about them that they never remembered telling her. What they didn’t know was that she gathered all that information just from observing them and listening to what they said. She’s a strategist and a planner and she delights in knowing more than everybody else, making it so that when she wasn’t purposefully faded into the background, she came off as intimidating and scary, and rightly so. You cross her or try to pull any nonsense around her and she’ll make you regret it.
20. Contrary to what I feel might be predictable for her, it wasn’t Hailey (the friendly and cheerful one) or Josie (the smart and sociable one) that pulled Charlie into Laila’s friend group, but instead it was Laila herself. Charlie might not be good when it comes to feelings, both hers and other people’s, but she’s an excellent judge of character. She doesn’t talk to her peers because she’s categorized them as not being her “type”. She sees them and thinks they’re silly and petty and loud and annoying. She gets impatient with how childish and flighty and apparently short of memory they are, how they haven’t yet decided what they want with their life, how they’re all sooooo fussed about what other people want them to be and how they haven’t made up their minds about who they want to be. Dealing with them is boring and somehow oddly exhausting, so she doesn’t waste her time with them.
She and Laila met through circumstance. And what she immediately got from Laila was that she was someone who was filled with something akin to gentle warmth. She saw someone who didn’t judge or expect things from her. Someone who didn’t raise her hackles or crowd her space, both physically and mentally. She saw a person who didn’t pretend to be something she wasn’t, who didn’t really have anything to hide. Most of all, she saw in Laila someone who went about her day with honesty and good will in her actions towards others, who was genuine and caring. Those are things she’s not often found in other people, no matter their age. It’s something that she’s come to appreciate and respect in the rare, rare instances when she does find it. It took a while, but as she got to know Laila and her other friends better and hung out with them more often, she saw that she found a place where she felt like she could breathe.
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windup-warrior · 6 years ago
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Prompt 24: Undertone
Power Over Me
“I knew what love was supposed to be: obsession with undertones of nausea.”
-Margaret Atwood, Cat’s Eye
I think… I think I am in love.
No chance. No way. I won’t say it, oh no. To admit it, is to give the universe the power to destroy it. And after all of the things I have done, I know it is only a matter of time before my time comes due for everything I love to crumble before my eyes as I answer for my sins. The blood on my hands, the destruction I have wrought, it all stacks up and will in time become the very shackles that will weigh me down for the rest of my life. As it stands, I carry it and wear it like armor, wrapped around my very being like the sharpest of defenses.
Someone once told me that the path to their heart was strewn with blood and body parts and in that moment, I found a kindred soul who truly understood just what my life meant… what loving me meant. The subtle nuance of just how to relate to me, the undertones of understanding when it came to breaking through the layers and layers of damage guarding my heart. I am not a good person. I never have been. But little by little, I think I am learning that even bad people are capable and worthy of love.
Just the same, that does not mean that I want to go screaming it from the rooftops. If there is one thing that I have learned in my short life, it is that the have nots always want what the haves possess. This can be wealth or physical items or health or even love. And if the universe itself decides that I no longer deserve this tiny little slice of happiness, then it will all be taken away from me. So for now, I protect it. I guard it and keep it safe, hiding it away from anyone that could do it harm. All the while, I try not to think about the fact that of anyone in the universe, I am the one most likely to ruin this, to break it apart, to hurt the one person that I have allowed to get close to me in recent memory. Or maybe the one person I have ever allowed close.
You see, sex is by no means a new concept to me. It is something I have been doing for awhile (you do not want to know just how long) and it is as easy as riding a mount. Which… sounds dirty, but I swear it was not meant to be. Regardless, let’s move on. Sex is easy. Love? Genuine, deep affection for another being that goes beyond the physical and carnal side of things? That is by no means easy. It is difficult and makes me uneasy, a bit like walking up a flight of stairs and thinking there is one more step at the top when there is not. That lurch you get in your stomach? Yeah, I think it is like that. Only constantly. Or at least every time I find myself thinking about it. Really, it is almost enough to make me sick.
I never thought I would be one of those lovesick morons, bereft of logic and rational thinking whenever it came to their beau. But here I am, mooning over a pretty man for reasons that do not necessarily involve the things he can do with his fingers, tongue, or… well, you know. Of course, I definitely, definitely appreciate him for those things. But I also like the way he quiets the storm in my mind by his mere presence. I like the way his touch can soothe the loudest of my demons, scaring them into silence until we are forced to part once more. Between his line of work and mine, our time together is seldom consistent. We may get a string of days together where we do nothing save for fucking, eating, drinking, and laughing to the point of exhaustion. Or conversely, we may go a week without seeing each other except in passing.
That is life. But he is in it and I think that means that I am okay with this. Even if that means my only contact with him is the brush of his hand along my hip as I am coming and he is going or vice versa. Hard as it is, I refrain from lavishing too much of my affection upon him when others are around. I think some pick up on the undertones of our interplay, how each touch and look and word means more than what face value may otherwise indicate. Others are fairly oblivious, either willfully or unintentionally. I don’t really care about what they think about it, I am just not going to do anything too intentional to out us to them. It is not any of their business and though some ask, neither of us have seen a reason to confirm it one way or the other.
Of course, some of that likely has to do with the fact that neither of us have really put any sort of label on just what we are. I like it that way, it is less pressure. And he seems to like it too. But eventually I figure we will have the dreaded Talk about what it means to be Karma and Graham. Not as separate entities, we are both already pretty secure in that, if I am being objective and honest. Rather… it was a matter of who we were as a couple, a unit, a pair. All of those words were so foreign and weird for me, so while we figured that out, I had to decide just what those seemingly tiny and insignificant words meant for me too.
It is more than just a title. It is an implication, subtle as it may be, that I am done running. Or at least, if I run, I will not do it alone. For all that his life is here and rooted so deeply within the free company and those he calls his friends, I think he would be plenty inclined to simply pack up and disappear with me if I ever asked him to. That said, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t ask something so selfish of him and I am not sure if that makes me happy or if it scares the hell out of me. Likely a little bit of both. Because for all of the nuance, it is so very big too. Bigger than him. Bigger than me. Bigger than us.
So… I won’t say it. Not out loud at least. I won’t jinx it or put the weight of the world upon something so fragile and new. But maybe… maybe someday. Then I will tell the world just what we are made of.
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itwasjustmisplaced · 7 years ago
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I tuned in to watch ED for the first time in weeks too but I was left wondering why did I bother. The hugs with roblivion were sweet but I wish they had spaced out Liv's storyline after Aaron's prison hell. I'm still not gripped or invested yet like I thought I would be. And how many cheating plots can one soap have? I swear they are reusing the dialogue now
Kind of how I feel every day I watch. For me my biggest issue with Liv as a character has always been they tried to hard to make her a mini Aaron and this move of putting her jail is just like the icing on the cake. I even laughed yesterday there was a nice SPICE poster behind Steve to remind us of last years terribly done prison plot. 
But yeah, it just feels like the only way Emmerdale currently knows how to bring drama to a couple is to have them cheat. It’s kind of been IM’s go to since he started. We can even go back to Coira’s break up which really happened cause  Cain kissed Charity. I am sure there are some breakups that weren’t 100% because of cheating over the past two years but all the big ones have stemmed from poorly executed cheating plots. That should not be your go-to way to break up a couple or create drama. There is literally no build up to these moments and most characters feel OOC when they do it. I am still baffled why Cain did that with Charity or even Peter with Priya. I would say the most frustrating part about it all for me is there is literally no build up minus one or two episodes to these huge moments. Graham and Megan interacted for the first time last week and now they had sex, which fine but couldn’t we have spent the last month building up to that moment? Showing Graham and Megan interacting and slowly drawing closer and them finding solace in the fact they both lost children or something. It was kind of like how last year Vanessa and Adam were suddenly friends again so he could kiss her and they didn’t interact again post that. It just makes you wonder what the point is of it all.
There is just something really off about all of the storytelling right now and really the whole time under IM. Either a story is rushed to the point that no one is invested or it’s dragged out and rushed at the end it falls flat. I just kind of look back on some of the big plots of the last year and I won’t lie most of them just don’t feel worth it at the end of the day. The short-term stalling drama in the middle doesn’t have any lasting effect or the story feels rather pointless in the end cause things are just not addressed or glossed over to bring the story to an end. Nell was completely pointless and hasn’t been mentioned since she ran off to scam another person. Dragging out Lachlan right now is pointless cause nothing has changed since January so I don’t know why we are doing this cause they aren’t even changing the stakes for him properly. The amount of people who would have cared back in January is exactly the same, maybe even less. They glossed over a ton of the stuff related to both Coira and Robron’s breakups and things that happened in the middle of those stories, which sort of defeats the point. Sure they address some of it but it’s all in one episode and that just doesn’t fix it or make it feel natural. 
It also feels like they are creating convenient relationships to advance plot points, i.e. Pete and Rhona for Ross, while also trying to create two stories together but not investing properly in either so you aren’t engaged fully. Instead of the two stories naturally playing off each other they kind take turns and it just doesn’t work. I am thinking mostly of Tracy and Charity because Tracy’s trauma has felt completely dropped in all this to advance Charity’s story. Mostly I don’t care much about anything happening. I literally said that about the last few weeks about how it’s impressive how little I care and I pay attention. 
And you are not wrong about them resuing dialogue, because David literally said some of the same things that Robert did in the reveal when he talking about cheating with Leyla. Graham basically pulled a Rebecca yesterday in a nicer way with Megan. It’s just really bad right now and far too predictable. I am sure Megan and Graham will either be an affair or pregnancy cause they are so unoriginal. 
All I can think about is how last year from Ashley’s death to Emma’s death how nothing really happened that was important or had massive consequences. The whole summer was awash with poorly executed plots and stuff that literally didn’t matter in the long run. Sure there were some moments but most of it was just utter garbage. I am guessing we are in for that again this year cause I am sure we are going to have some big moments but everything that is set up right now just doesn’t work or feels aimless. Even spoilers are boring. But I digress.
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welllpthisishappening · 7 years ago
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Tripping Over the Blue Line (5/45)
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It’s a transition. That’s what Emma’s calling it. She’s transitioning from one team to another, from one coast to another and she’s definitely not worried. Nope. She’s fine. Really. She’s promised Mary Margaret ten times already. So she got fired. Whatever. She’s fine, ready to settle into life with the New York Rangers. She’s got a job to do. And she doesn’t care about Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers. At all.
He’s done. One more season and he’s a free agent and he’s out. It’s win or nothing for Killian. He’s going to win a Stanley Cup and then he’s going to stop being the face of the franchise and he’s going to go play for some other garbage team where his name won’t be used as puns in New York Post headlines. That’s the plan. And Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations isn’t going to change that. At all.
They are both horrible liars.
Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Swearing, eventual hockey-type violence AN: Bonus points to anyone who can tell me what Merida’s last name means here. Also, have some more vaguely emotional backstory. I am nothing without @laurnorder, @beautiful-swan & @distant-rose who are a constant and goddamn delight.  Hanging out on Ao3, FF.net and tag’ed up on Tumblr. 
She’d come up with the idea at some point in the middle of the night – somewhere between flipping onto her back and trying not to break her neck from leaning against the arm of Mary Margaret’s couch and resisting the urge to groan so loudly she’d definitely wake up both Mary Margaret and David because this was, hands down, the the most uncomfortable couch in the entire world.
It felt a bit like lightning.
Or whatever metaphor she wanted to use that didn’t sound quite as ridiculous as saying an idea felt like lightning.
It did though – striking her immediately and intently and it made sense and it was the perfect idea to get things rolling. That was another metaphor.
Actually, maybe that was a cliché.
It didn’t matter. Ruby loved the idea and Emma wasn’t sure why she’d even asked Ruby for permission, calling as soon as was socially acceptable on a Saturday morning after a surprise party that had resulted in them all drinking far too much wine than they probably should have.
Except Killian.
And probably the rest of the team. There were rules – or something.
Emma didn’t care about the rest of the team. Not that she cared about Killian either. That would have been ridiculous. She wasn’t smiling because of Killian Jones – or how he didn’t try and brush her fingers off his knee or shy away from telling her about his hand or how he got this very specific look on his face, eyes going wide and bright and blue,  when he talked about winning a Cup.
And she absolutely didn’t think about him for a week after the surprise party that wasn’t really a surprise party, no matter what Mary Margaret said. She had an event to plan and a team schedule to memorize because if they were going to do this, then they needed the team there and guys willing to skate and explain helmets and how different the sport was than before and how safe it was.
It was almost true – hockey, by its very definition, wasn’t safe. Any sport that required players to actually tie blades to their feet and encouraged them to hit each others legs with sticks wasn’t safe.
And Emma had witnessed her fair share of injuries in the past – concussions and broken limbs and a variety of dislocated joints and that one time Graham needed a dozen stitches after the jackass from Columbus had managed to work his skate across his wrist when they both went careening into the boards.
That one had terrified her the most.
The league was pretty adamant about concussions though and concussion safety and it was the perfect idea for Emma’s first foray into community relations – Ruby loved it, Zelena loved it, everyone loved it – a Sunday afternoon at the practice facility in Tarrytown and a skating safety clinic and explanations about how far the Rangers had come in making sure their players brains were, relatively, safe.
So, for the first week of the season, Emma found herself in a town car provided by Ruby because no one had actually given her that number yet, schlepping upstate every day as she tried to figure out the logistics of all of this.
And get posters with Killian Jones’ face on them – which didn’t bother her at all because she hadn’t spent the last week thinking about him and hadn’t stared at the number he’d left on her work phone for the last three days wondering if she could come up with some sort of excuse to call or text that didn’t have anything to do with community relations.
She couldn’t.
And Emma hadn’t actually given him her number. The ball, or puck, God,  was effectively in her court. Or her offensive zone? This metaphor was stupid.
“Emma?”
She snapped around, nearly tripping over her heels as she pushed off of the doorframe she was leaning against, to find Merida Mathan standing in front of her, a walkie-talkie in one hand and a helmet in the other.
Emma hadn’t explicitly asked for an assistant, but Ruby had been adamant and she was in charge of a whole department and, well, Merida was like some sort of red-headed hurricane who seemed pre-programmed to read minds and make things as easy as they possibly could have been almost two weeks into a new job on the other side of the country with a team that was inexplicably connected.
“Hey, Mer,” Emma said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She nodded towards the walkie-talkie and it looked like it was, at least, two decades old. “What’s that?” “Oh, that’s for you,” she answered, pushing the electronic towards Emma. “To make sure the guys know when to come out of the locker room. The kids are here too, by the way.” “When?” Merida shrugged and Emma tried to pull her phone out of her pocket, certain Mary Margaret would have texted her when the class got there – she’d kind of cheated and the kids weren’t from Tarrytown and she’d used Mary Margaret’s fourth-grade class list to fill the seats, but that seemed to be par for the course for this team and...whatever. Emma didn’t need an excuse. Mary Margaret said the kids were thrilled.
She tapped the home button impatiently and she’d been right – there were four text messages and the last one just said “HERE” ten times in a row.
“Where are the kids?” Emma asked, ignoring the texts as she tried to get the walkie-talkie to stop buzzing in her hand.
“Waiting in the lobby. Mary Margaret and David are down there too.”
Emma groaned – and it actually sounded a bit like a growl, frustration seeping through every inch of her – as she rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and hooked the walkie-talkie into a belt loop.  “Alright,” she said and she wished it didn’t sound like she was actually trying to psych herself up.
It was good. This was a good idea. Everyone loved it. The kids were thrilled. It was going to be great.
She should have called Killian Jones.
“Let’s go get the kids into skates and helmets and all, then we’ll get them on the ice and we’ll bring the guys out,” Emma continued. “And then they’ll all freak out and it’ll be painfully adorable and, shit, is Mulan here?” Merida smiled knowingly, as if she were waiting for Emma to worry about the whereabouts of the Garden’s official photographer. “Has been for about an hour. She’s been taking pictures of the guys I think.” Emma huffed out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and nodded once. “Good, good, good.” “Emma.” “Yeah.” “We need to go get the kids.” “Right, right, let’s do that.” There were forty kids. Forty screaming, over-excited kids standing in the New York Rangers practice facility lobby with smiles on their faces and some of them might have been jumping up and down and Emma felt her jaw drop open.
Merida muttered something and Emma didn’t hear her over the dull roar of the fourth-grade crowd in front of her and she was going to break Mary Margaret’s impossibly uncomfortable couch because this wasn’t what they’d agreed on.
At all.
There were supposed to be twenty kids. At most. Twenty kids who could all get skates and a player for every two kids and there were forty kids.
“We need to find more skates,” Emma mumbled, not taking her eyes away from the crowd. Mary Margaret was already walking towards her, a repentant look on her face and David was half a step behind her, staring at Emma like he was practically willing her not to yell in the middle of the lobby.
In front of forty kids.
“Yeah,” Merida said softly, twisting a particularly well-formed curl around her finger. “Ok, yeah, more skates.” “Don’t tell the guys there’s more kids.” “I won’t.” Merida practically sprinted down the hallway towards the equipment room and Kristoff was going to kill them – they hadn’t planned for an extra twenty kids. God, what was this going to do to the ice? Was it going to mess up the ice?
Emma had no idea how that worked.
Mary Margaret was in front of her half a moment later, that same nervous look on her face and her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I have an explanation,” she said, tugging on Emma’s shirt sleeve.
“Don’t,” Emma sighed and she wasn’t nearly as mad as she probably should have been. In fact, she probably should have expected this. “I know why you did it.” “You do?” “Let me guess, your kids were thrilled and could only talk about this for the last week and that led to more kids wanting to go and you had space on the bus and you couldn’t say no because, well, they’re kids and so, here we are, twenty kids over budget and now we’ll have to have four to a player.”
David laughed softly and Mary Margaret blushed and Emma just raised her eyebrows. “Am I close?”
“Painfully,” David muttered.
Mary Margaret huffed, crossing her arms lightly and she might have actually stamped both her feet at the same time, a little jump-stop that was so her,  it was almost painful. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Pretty spot on.” “It’s ok, Reese’s. They’re a professional hockey team, they’ve got to have more skates somewhere. Mer’s on it and Kristoff will figure it out and it’s going to be fine.” “It’s just a really good idea and the kids were super excited and I couldn’t…” “Say no, yeah, I got that.” “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. You’re just almost too nice, you know that.” Mary Margaret scrunched her nose and David slung his arm around her shoulders, tugging her against his side and kissing the top of her head and Emma wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t.  That would have been ridiculous.
Once upon a time, Emma probably would have been, would have let that jealousy seep into her very center and take up residence in her heart or her soul or something equally absurd, but, at this point, she was absolutely convinced that sort of thing just didn’t happen for her.
At one point Emma believed in everything and wanted everything and it had gotten her heart broken – twice.
It just seemed like testing fate to try and play those odds again.
And that might have been why she’d never called Killian Jones.
Because she’d done this –  twice – and it hadn’t ended well either time and then it had, somehow, managed to get even worse in LA.
Neal showed up in her office the same day she’d gotten the news she was, officially, out, a box resting on his hip and an understanding smile on his face that made her want to punch him just a bit and he tried to explain how this wasn’t really his fault.
He wasn’t taking her job.
He’d just ended up in Los Angeles by some sort of coincidence that absolutely wasn’t the fact that he’d known Gold for years and was part of his group that was taking over front office jobs and, you know, it wasn’t his fault.
Of course not.
Asshole. Bastard asshole.
Emma met Neal Cassidy in Vancouver – he’d given her his business card and flashed her a smile that left her just a bit more breathless than anything else ever had and he’d smiled and he was good at his job. Not good enough that he deserved her office in LA, but that was beside the point. He was working in Nashville at the time, director of communications for the Preds and the long distance thing hadn’t been easy at first, but he took her out to dinner whenever he was in Vancouver or she was in Tennessee and they made it work.
It was worth it.
Until it wasn’t and Emma got promoted and he complained when she couldn’t get out of the Rogers before midnight on game days and, eventually, he just stopped calling. She saw he got engaged and he hadn’t bothered saying anything, not that she really expected him to, but it was just...it was just.
Emma had loved him – believed all the promises and the plans and he’d looked at her like she mattered and she’d always wanted that.
She wanted him.
He didn’t, however, seem to want her. He just wanted her job and now he had her office in LA and that beautiful desk she’d picked out herself when she’d gotten the title and those windows that looked out perfectly on the Staples Center parking lot.
Maybe she didn’t miss those windows. Or the Staples Center. Or even Neal.
She’d tried again, did her best to believe and not walk away from the smiles and the flirting – supported, as always, by Mary Margaret’s seemingly endless belief in the very idea of true love – and Walsh was another mistake.
He’d been a fan – sitting in the Starbucks just outside the Staples Center on the same afternoon Emma walked in, desperately looking for caffeine. They started talking and that wasn’t really in Emma’s wheelhouse of relationships because she didn’t just talkto people. She didn’t just trust people.
She talked and she trusted Walsh – at first.
They went out to dinner three times and he was...persistent. That was probably the best word for it. He wanted a lot and Emma didn’t and when he realized that, he’d told her he never really loved her anyway and no one probably ever would and she didn’t even cry because, somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, she almost sort of agreed with him.
She didn’t date anybody else while she was in LA. She wasn’t entirely convinced she’d ever really been dating Walsh. She was fine as is. The rules were comfortable. They made sense. The rules kept things on track – and kept her, decidedly, on the outside of true love looking in.
Emma wasn’t jealous of everyone else who, apparently, had it figured out. She wasn’t – and that seemed like a good thing because everyone on this entire team appeared to have it figured out. She had other things to deal with anyway.
Namely finding skates for twenty kids she wasn’t expecting to see in Tarrytown that afternoon.
The walkie-talkie on her hip buzzed and it sounded like someone was actually trying to talk. Emma tugged it off her belt loop, glancing at Mary Margaret and David who both looked entertained at the fact that the New York Rangers were still using walkie-talkies.
She twisted the top, trying to get rid of some of the static and held it up to her ear. “Swan,” a voice said and Emma bit her lip tightly when she realized who it was.
She probably should have called him.
“Uh, yeah,” Emma muttered, ignoring the smile she could see on Mary Margaret’s face. “They gave you the walkie-talkie?” Killian laughed and Emma was going to make her lip bleed. “Don’t sound so surprised, love. I’m the captain of this team, they’re willing to trust me with things as serious as who gets to talk to you on the walkie-talkie.” “And he absolutely refused to let anyone else touch it,” Will added, earning a groan out of Killian and something that sounded like a smack on a shoulder or the back of his head.
“That’s not true at all,” Killian said quickly, but the bravado was gone just a bit. Emma was smiling. Mary Margaret looked like she’d just watched a particularly beautiful sunrise.
“Whatever you say, Jones,” Emma laughed. Good, that was good, stick to last names and keep him on the literal and metaphorical ice and today was going to be fine. “Listen, uh, we’ve hit kind of a snag here so we’re running a bit behind schedule.” “A snag?” “Like a barely even noticeable bump in the road.” “What happened?” he asked, concern obvious in his voice. That was ridiculous. He didn’t have anything to be concerned about, particularly not at an event Emma had planned and more or less forced him and nine other players to attend.
“Nothing.” “Swan.” “Jones.” “Open book,” Killian muttered and Emma rolled her eyes.
“You can’t even see me.” “Even so.” She sighed, shoulders sagging just a bit and this was far too easy – talking to him was far too easy. Fuck. “There are a few more kids here than we planned for.” “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Mary Margaret whispered and Emma waved her off, eyebrows drawn low at the silence coming from the other end of the walkie-talkie.
“How many more kids?” Killian asked.
“Twenty?” Emma mumbled.
“Twenty? Did you say twenty?” “Mary Margaret can’t say no to kids excited to meet their heroes or something.” Killian scoffed and somehow she knew he had his hand in his hair. Huh. “Was that a compliment, Swan?” “Don’t let it go to your head.” She waited for the response, the teasing through the walkie-talkie and her smile wavered just a bit when it didn’t come immediately. “Em,” David said, nudging her shoulder and she spun on the spot to find a fully-uniformed Killian Jones standing at the far end of the hall.
Emma shook her head once, trying to school her features and she knew it didn’t work as soon as she saw the smile on his face, leaning against the wall as he somehow managed to balance on one skate, his other foot crossed at his ankle.
She’d only ever seen him post-practice and those hours spent huddled at the end of the bar in Eric’s restaurant and he wore both looks well – slightly wet hair and team-branded merchandise looking just as good as the collared shirt and fitted pants and neither one of them was as good as Killian Jones in full uniform.
Or, at least, practice uniform.
It was all very blue and red and the pads somehow made him look even more commanding or maybe that was just the “C” on his shoulder.
Fuck.
“What are you doing?” Emma asked, pushing him farther back down the hallway so the kids didn’t actually see him. “You’re going to incite some sort of fourth-grade riot.” He glanced down at her hand, still pressed against his jersey, and he tugged her fingers away from the fabric, squeezing them once for good measure before letting them drop back to their side. “I don’t know if you’ve ever encountered a fourth grader, Swan, but I hardly think they’re capable of rioting. Anyway, I have an idea.”
“What?” Emma asked, glancing over her shoulder when Merida ran back into the lobby, shaking her head. There weren’t enough skates. She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling loudly and dramatically and Mary Margaret’s sigh was audible from a few yards away.
“We’re going to split up.” “What?”
“Split up. And by us, I mean the actual professional hockey players. Send some of the kids out onto the ice, give ‘em the skates you’ve got and then Scarlet, Locksley and I can stay in here and answer questions or something.” “Questions?” “They’re in fourth grade, Swan, I’m sure they’ve got questions.” Emma pursed her lips, considering the suggestion and wondering how he’d managed to come up with this entire plan in the five-second span since she’d informed him that there were too many kids. She didn’t really care. This could work.
“You’d do that?” Emma asked.
Killian shrugged. “Sure, why not?” “Well you’re already dressed.” “That hardly means I’ve lost my motor skills. Anyway it’s probably good I’m dressed, something about visual learning.” She laughed and he did something with his eyebrows that, in turn, did something very specific to Emma’s pulse and she nodded. “You know I thought about a Q&A thing, something about explaining how to avoid concussions or safety. I didn’t think we’d have enough time.” “We just apparently don’t have enough skates.”
“How did you know that? I didn’t actually say anything about skates.” “Kristoff came barreling into the locker room about five seconds before I walkie-talkie’d you.”
“Is that actually a verb?” “You’d have to ask Mary Margaret.”
He moved his eyebrows again and his eyes definitely did match the uniform and Emma had lost her train of thought. “Ok,” she said slowly, tapping out a rhythm against her thigh. This could work. “So you three take, what, half? Can you talk to twenty kids at once?” “Is that a question about my ability to talk, to make sure twenty kids aren’t bored while I talk or somewhere in between?” “I just don’t want to overwhelm. I mean, this is nice, you’re being nice.” Killian tilted his head at her and the smile looked a bit more confused than it had been, eyebrows pulling low until there was a tiny crease in between them. “Is that surprising?”
“No,” Emma said. “I don’t really know.” He smiled wider at her and it looked as genuine as it had in Eric’s restaurant. “I’m almost always nice,” he promised. “Some would go so far as to say a gentleman.” Emma made a face, trying to look serious and it didn’t really work when he kept smiling at her like that. Business. Back to business and planning and keeping forty kids occupied for the next three hours. “You’ll get twenty kids,” she said and Killian blinked once at her tone before nodding. “Talk about safety and concussions and how you shouldn’t be cross-checking anyone in the head or anything like that.” “I think we can handle that, love.” “Not your love,” Emma said quickly before completely losing her mind and reaching out to rest her hand on his. “And thanks.” “Of course.” She nodded again and he smiled and Merida coughed pointedly behind them as Emma spun back towards her assistant. “You want to get started, Em?” she asked, some sort of knowing smile on her face.
“Yeah, for sure. I guess we’ll just split them up by class? Where’s Reese’s? “Reese’s? “Mary Margaret,” Killian supplied, leaning towards Merida who didn’t appear particularly taken aback to see a fully-dressed NHL player in front of her.
“I don’t get it.” Emma rolled her eyes, determined to ignore the smirk she was all but certain was etched onto Killian’s face. “Reese’s,” she shouted and Mary Margaret practically appeared in front of her, ready and willing to do whatever was necessary.
She felt guilty about bringing twenty extra kids.
“Hey, Killian,” she said, nodding towards him, still leaning up against the wall and balanced on one skate blade.
“Mary Margaret,” he muttered. “I see you’ve brought more kids.” “They were excited to meet you.” He might have actually blushed and Emma might have have bit her lip again to stop herself from doing something ridiculous like giggling at Killian Jones blushing over the mere idea that fourth graders wanted to meet him.
“We’re going to split the kids up,” Emma said, glancing at Mary Margaret. “Just go down the line of class or whatever. Half with the first line and then the other half with the skates we apparently do have and then we’ll swap.” “The first line?” “Jones, Scarlet and Locksley.” Mary Margaret raised her eyebrows at Emma’s new policy of using last names only, but didn’t actually say anything, just hummed in agreement. “Sure. That sounds like a good plan.” “Told you, Swan,” Killian mumbled and she glanced back at him to find he absolutely was smirking, one side of his mouth tugged up.
“Genius,” she said and this felt a bit like teasing and a whole lot like flirting and it needed to stop. It shouldn’t have ever really started. “Mer,” Emma continued, “We have chairs we can put somewhere? For the other group?” “We’ll put them in the film room.” “Perfect,” Emma breathed, shoulders sagging just a bit and three pairs of eyes stared at her – each expecting something different and probably all thinking the same thing. “Alright, team, let’s go or break or something. Whatever they say in a huddle.” Mary Margaret laughed, eyes lightening a bit as she tugged Merida back to a group of still-screaming fourth graders. Killian hadn’t moved. “You need to work on your motivational speeches,” he said.
“That’s why you’re here. Isn’t that part of the captaincy requirements?” “Not that I’m aware of.” “Shame.” He chuckled under his breath and ran his hand through his hair as two more fully dressed hockey players walked out of the locker room. “Is there a plan then?” Robin asked, coming up just behind Killian.
“Film room,” Killian said quickly and they didn’t even ask anymore questions, just nodded in unison and walked towards the other side of the hallway, waving when the forty fourth graders collectively lost their minds at the sight of them.
Emma whistled softly and Killian quirked an eyebrow at her. “That was just impressive.” “They’ll listen. It’ll be fine, Swan. The kids may even learn something.” “I think that’s kind of the point.” “Then we’ll make sure they do.” “Thanks,” she said again, tongue darting over her suddenly dry lips and she hadn’t realized they were alone until she felt herself leaning towards him out of instinct. Huh.
“My pleasure.” And it sounded genuine and real and this was absolutely flirting. “I’ll, uh, I’ll keep the walkie-talkie on. In case there’s a change in plans?” Emma nodded, not quite sure what else to say and he was gone half a second later, smiling and waving and every single one of those forty fourth graders came to see Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers.
She might have too.
An extra twenty fourth graders, it appeared, were not enough to ruin anything.
It all went according to plan and dangerously close to perfect and, nearly three hours later, Emma was leaning in the doorway of the film room, arms crossed lightly over her chest and weight resting on her toes and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
He was good at this.
Of course he was good at this.
He scored at least twenty goals a season, of course Killian Jones was good at explaining hockey to eight and nine year olds.
The twenty kids were a rapt audience in front of the New York Rangers first line – most of them sporting their own team-branded merchandise, legs crossed and heads resting on hands and Emma was half convinced none of them even blinked in the five minutes she’d spent watching them.
And she was certain Killian knew she was there, was certain his eyes had darted towards her more than once in those last five minutes, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to care. It had all gone perfectly, even the transition between groups had gone flawlessly, Mary Margaret a picture of efficiency as kids were helped out of skates and then back into skates and Killian had used the walkie talkie again – muttering an encouragement into it during the middle part of the day and even signing off with a quick 10-4 that made Emma roll her eyes.
It also made her stomach flip, but that wasn’t important.
At all.
“You doing ok?” David asked, making Emma jump and at some point she needed to get better at people just appearing. It usually wasn’t an attack.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He shrugged, sliding down against the opposite wall and sticking his legs out across the hallway floor. Emma eyed him expectantly and he was doing a good job of keeping his face even, but she knew David and she knew when he had something to say. “Alright,” she sighed, pulling herself away from the doorway and a potentially adorable explanation of how to check someone without getting sent to the penalty box. “Go ahead, spill whatever it is you want to tell me.” “How do you know I have something to tell you?” “You’re doing that thing with your face,” Emma said, waving her hand in front of her as she sank down next to him.
“So are you.” “I’m not doing anything with my face.” “Except smiling.” Emma groaned, wincing slightly when her head hit up against the wall. “Not you too. Reese’s was bad enough.” “How come you didn’t call him?” “What?” David glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying very hard not to laugh. He failed. “Robin and Will saw him take your phone, Will told Belle, Belle told Ariel, Ariel told Mary Margaret. Several days ago, by the way.” “Jeez.” “I’m not saying you should, for what it's worth, I’m just curious why you didn’t.” Emma sighed again and closed her eyes, pulling her legs up towards her chest so she could rest her chin on her knees. “I don’t even know him.” “You know of him.” “So do forty fourth graders, I don’t think you’d tell any of them to call Killian Jones.”
David scoffed, humming in agreement and Emma wasn’t quite sure where this was going. “I’m kind of surprised he agreed to do this, honestly.” “What do you mean?” “You don’t know?” “Spit out, David.” “You know he’s the younger Jones brother. And probably not the better one at playing hockey if we’re all being honest.” “That’s a rather pointed opinion.” “Ask Killian, he’d probably tell you the same thing,” David argued. Emma just made a face – he was dragging this story out. “Anyway, what I mean, is this whole concussion thing kind of hits close to home for him. You remember Liam, right?” Emma shrugged. “I remember he got hurt and he had to retire. He played for the Rangers, got drafted the same year as Killian, right?” She didn’t add that she’d been meaning to look it up, had been meaning to ask someone, anyone, what exactly had happened to Liam Jones, but she’d been far too focused on getting this event finished and figuring out how to act when she had an assistant and trying to actually sleep on Mary Margaret’s couch.
“All true. They didn’t make a big deal of it because it was all pretty horrible and Killian was dangerously close to the whole going off the rails metaphor once it happened.” David glanced back at Emma who raised her eyebrows and tried not to be too frustrated by this conversation. “He did it.” Emma waited for the rest, the explanation and the drawn out story and none of it came. David stared at her like she should understand what those three words meant and Emma twisted her hands in the air, frustration replaced with confusion and then a mix of both at the same time.
“What are you talking about?” she said, trying to keep her voice even.
“Killian’s the one that hurt him.” “What?” David made a face and it was big and significant and Emma still didn’t entirely understand what was happening. “Just before the playoffs, third season into their career, took a slapshot just over the blue line on a power play and it...well it hit Liam. Probably should have killed him, but it missed the back of his head and hit just under his ear. Knocked him out. For minutes. And it wasn’t just a concussion, they thought he might not ever be able to talk again. I guess it was touch and go for awhile.
He retired at the end of the season, announced it from the hospital. That was the year before Killian got hurt. I’m not sure if he ever really stopped blaming himself, like I said, Liam was good, really good. He could have taken over the game.” Emma let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding and that wasn’t the story she’d expected, but it did explain a little bit about Killian Jones and the teammates and friends who were so determined to interfere in his life.
They wanted to make sure he was happy.
Because he absolutely blamed himself.
“Oh,” Emma said said softly when she realized she hadn’t actually responded and David lowered his eyebrows, confusion settling on his face.
David opened his mouth to say something, probably ask why she hadn’t been able to come up with a better reaction or another word or why she hadn’t actually called Killian again, but the walkie-talkie still strapped to her belt started making noise before he could.
“Swan,” Killian said and she could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Over and out or something.” She grabbed the toy – and it was absolutely a toy – and pressed the button on the top. “That’s not how you start a conversation on one of these things.” “Ah, forgive me, Swan, I don’t think I’ve used one of these in at least two decades, so you’ll have to give me a bit of a learning curve.”
“You know you could just come out here and talk to me.” “That wouldn’t be nearly as fun.”
Emma laughed softly and David was staring wide-eyed at her as if she’d been replaced by a cyborg at some point in their conversation. “What’s going on?” “The fourth graders are getting a little restless and, apparently, very hungry.” “Restless and hungry? That doesn’t seem like a very good combination.” “It is not, which is why I’m signaling out and hoping you’ve got some sort of plan.” “I actually do and it involves food and sending Mer on some sort of vaguely desperate pizza run half an hour ago.” “You’re a hero, Swan.” “Reese’s should be here in a few minutes to bring them down to the cafeteria and make sure none of them rise up in rebellion or anything.” She appreciated his laugh and the smile she was certain was on his face and when she leaned slightly to her right she found him leaning slightly to his left, eyes meeting over the doorway and she’d been absolutely right – he was practically beaming at her.
“I’m here, I’m here,” Mary Margaret said, running down the hall and she was half out of breath by the time she skidded to a stop in front of Emma and David. Her head darted towards the film room and Killian was still staring and Mary Margaret’s eyes were so wide Emma was almost concerned they were going to fall out of her head.
“Relax, Reese’s,” Emma muttered. “The kids are fine. Where are your designated twenty?” “In the cafe with Merida, posing for the camera and they’re all going to lose their minds when you give them the shirts.” Emma shrugged, always quick to deflect anything that even resembled a compliment. “That was probably the easiest part of this whole thing. We’ll get some of the guys to sign them too. Is the food here yet?” “Yeah, that’s why I’m here. To get your twenty and then eat something.” “A solid plan.” “I thought so.” Emma nodded towards the door and Mary Margaret hummed in the back of her throat, falling into teacher modequickly. She marched into the film room and seized control of the audience and moved them, single-file no less, out into the hallway, leaving a vaguely stunned trio of hockey players in her wake.
David pushed himself up off the floor, throwing a knowing smile Emma’s direction before he followed Mary Margaret and her line of fourth graders down the hallway.
She glanced up when she heard sneakers on the linoleum floor in front of her a few minutes later and she wasn’t sure why she just assumed they’d still be wearing skates – they weren’t on ice. “Hey,” Emma said brightly, smiling up at Will.
“There’s food?” Will asked immediately and Emma nodded slowly, a bit stunned by their quick descent into snippy.  He hummed and stalked down down hallway, not even bothering to say anything else.
“Sorry about that,” Robin apologized, stepping out of the room and smiling at Emma and she felt some of her anger ebb. She hadn’t really talked to him that night at the restaurant and Will always seemed to be the one to butt into her conversations with Killian – her three conversations with Killian.
She’d had three conversations with him.
“That’s ok, I’d imagine the fourth graders had the same reaction to having to wait for pizza.” “There’s pizza?” Emma nodded again, but this one came with a smile and she noticed that there were crinkles around Robin’s eyes when he returned the move. He looked a little older than Killian, hair a bit shorter and shoulders a bit wider and he was playing with the ring on his left hand like it was a nervous habit.
“There is, in fact, pizza,” Emma confirmed. “You might have to battle some nine-year-olds, but it’s there.” “Ah, I can take ‘em. I don’t have as many penalty minutes as Scarlet, but I think I’ve got a distinct size advantage.” He paused for a moment, crossing his arms lightly as he rocked back on his heels. “This was good, Emma, really good. The kids were thrilled.” “You guys did most of the work. And the three of you didn’t even get to skate.” Robin shrugged. “Yeah, well, we’ve spent enough time on the ice, it was almost nice to get a break. Although if any of those kids say Phillip the Rookie is their new favorite player, we may have to stage some sort of on-ice showcase to prove our skills.” “That seems fair.”
He laughed softly and glanced over his shoulder and Killian hadn’t moved an inch – fingers racing over a phone screen as he shifted his weight, kicking at something invisible just a few inches in front of him. “I'm, uh,” he said slowly, eyes darting between Emma and Killian and something was going on. “I’m going to go make sure Phillip the Rookie doesn’t steal all the pizza.” Emma bit back her immediate retort – that there were fourteen boxes of pizza, no one was stealing any of it, even an overly enthusiastic rookie winger – and nodded again, for the third time, and tugged on the bottom of her skirt.
“It’s not bad,” Robin muttered, glancing back towards Killian and the phone and the seemingly novel-length text message he was typing out. “Just, you know, talk to him.” She nodded for a fourth time and Emma wondered when she’d apparently lost the ability to communicate like some sort of normal human being, taking Robin’s outstretched hand when he offered it to her.
“I’ll save you guys some pizza,” he said. She didn’t think she imagined him squeezing slightly before moving down the hallway and leaving her very alone a few feet away from Killian Jones, who wasn’t wearing skates, but was still wearing his practice jersey.
She didn’t move.
She stood there for what felt like several hours and Killian just kept texting.
Emma tugged her hair back over her shoulder and then rolled her shoulders and that kind of defeated the purpose of moving her hair at all. She pulled the walkie-talkie back up to her mouth, pressing the button and squeezing her eyes shut before she spoke.
“Permission to come aboard?” she asked, silently wincing at how absurd she sounded.
Killian’s head snapped up and he turned towards her, eyes wide and blue and smile inching across his face as he put his phone down on the table he was still sitting on. He grabbed the walkie-talkie and Emma heard the buzz that came just before he responded.
“I think that’s just for ships, love.” And she didn’t correct him that time, just lifted her eyebrows and leaned against the door frame, holding the walkie-talkie loosely in her hand. Killian twisted on the table, sneakers squeaking when they moved across the floor and he pulled the walkie-talkie a bit closer to his lips. “10-4,” he said.
Emma smiled when she walked into the room – almost entirely forgetting about the pizza.
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