#just threw him a candy after 4/5 because i may try for some other pairs this month

[ishibishie]

WE FUCKING GAMING

[tinyboxxtink]

Build Me Up Buttercup *PART 7*

Whooo man, I don’t know if this is a longer chapter or not. I had planned on splitting the situations into two separate chapters, but it seemed short so I combined them. 

If you need to catch up!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 8

Tag List: @wanniiieeee

Rafael slammed the door to the men’s room open, terrifying some poor cowboy just trying to use the john. 

“Sorry…” He nodded apologetically to the guy who grumbled some obscenities as he washed his hands and left, leaving Rafael alone to stew.

Why had he just done that?! Why did he have to glance back at your table as soon as you closed your eyes? In that split second, he had locked eyes with Olivia. They were so close it was like they could telepath whole sentences between each other; and the look she had given him in that moment was definitely saying “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?”. 

Truth be told he really had no idea what he was doing, it all happened so fast. Really, the whole day was a blur. Before today you were just a junior detective to him, albeit a very sexy one. But truthfully you were barely a blip on his radar; you didn’t speak much, and when you did it was usually insulting him or contradicting. How had this one out of town trip completely flipped your relationship through a dryer tumble cycle? First the song in the car, the coffee in the car, the Fahey’s bathroom, and now this. At one point did he start…falling for you? Was he even falling for you? Were you planning this thing all along? Had you been seducing him? No, surely he wasn’t that dumb to just be seduced by a pair of pretty eyes and a tight t-shirt...and a soft soul who’d been through so much at so young…

NO. 

He wasn’t doing this. Not here, not now.

----

“What do you mean, he just left?”  

Once again you had fled to the bathroom, this time to update your BFF on the never ending nightmare that was this day. 

“I mean he LEFT. He mumbled some bullshit about being ‘sorry’ and just….walked away. No I’m sorry, he RAN away.” 

“Well...maybe he got scared?”

“A grown man?” 

“I don’t know from what you’ve said about him, he seems pretty high strung am I right?” 

“That’s putting it lightly…”

“I mean the fact that you even got him on that dance floor sounds like a miracle to me, maybe he just got in his head all of a sudden,” 

“Maybe…”

“Which means….” they paused ominously. 

“Means what?” you asked skeptically. 

“You’ve gotten yourself a def con one situation here, babe,”

“...What?” you were completely lost.

“Everyone knows the rule, Y/N” they kept completely serious.

“Wha-What RULE?” 

“The RULE! Once you have a…’moment’ with someone that gets interrupted, you HAVE to actually kiss them...or bang them but let’s be realistic,” they continued in a very serious tone, despite the fact that they were talking conspiracy theories. 

“Is ANY of that realistic? What happens if you ‘break’ this rule?”

“You have to kiss them in 24 hours or else you’ll just stay friends forever,” They stated like an oracle.

“Do you hear yourself when you talk, or has the crazy just become white noise at this point?” You rolled your eyes.

“Mock all you want, but you remember Duncan and Sarah?” 

“They went on one date and decided to be friends?”

“No no, they went on one date and she got called away before the end of it, thus nixing the good night kiss. And then the next time they ‘went out’, it had been 72 hours and when he went in for the good night kiss, she said they were better AS FRIENDS,” 

“...THAT’S what you're basing this insane rule on? A story about people we barely know?” 

“Well, it was also on Scrubs. Elliot and JD had to go through SO MUCH just because he couldn’t man up in those 24 hours!” They insisted.

“Oh my god, I’m hanging up--”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT, Come on Y/N just hear me out,” They begged. You sighed, putting two fingers across your eyes.

“Alright, let’s hear it,” 

“Look, you can choose to think I’m full of shit, but you gotta ask yourself: Are you willing to chance it?” 

You bit your lip, actually pondering if she could be right. 

“And you better think REAL quick, because your time has already been cut in half,”  they added. 

“NOW what the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re like, on a ‘vacation’ right now. Barba is FINALLY seeing you, like a person. A woman. Someone who’s not up his ass for warrants or bitching about deadlines,”

“I’m not that--” you tried protesting. 

“Shush. No time. You’re in like, another dimension right now. I’ll bet money as SOON as you hit the city line he’s gonna go back to his robot self and remember the fact that you two are completely inappropriate--”

“Oh come on that’s a strong--” you once again tried defending yourself. 

“I’m just saying what he’s gonna reason, babe. You know I’m right,” 

You paced the bathroom now, thinking of all the reasons you and Barba were bad news. 

“....What if he’s already there? What if that’s why he walked off? What if he’s talking himself out of….ANYTHING?”

“THIS IS WHAT I’M SAYING, HELLO You need another ‘moment’, but without everyone staring at you. I’ll bet you anything that’s what got him into his head all of a sudden,” 

Your eyes widened, remembering the front row seats your entire squad had to your little romantic moment. 

“Oh my god you might be right...they were all staring at us,”

“See?? You need to get him alone,” They went on, as you walked out of the bathroom. 

“...Fuck,”

“What? Fuck what? WHAT?!”

“I may have run out of time,”

You saw Barba approaching the booth again, Olivia gesturing wildly. The body language of their conversation did not seem very encouraging. What was worse, Amber walked up and handed them a check. 

“I think we’re leaving, Olivia got the check and she looks like a mad mom bitching out her ten year old for trying to swipe candy,” You groaned, ducking behind a man with a huge cowboy hat and following behind him to a seat at the bar, out of the squad’s eye line. 

“You need more time! You can’t just get in the car and drive back with everybody there, the ‘moment’ will never happen!”

“Okay can you stop with this, I’m already flipping out enough without you stating the obvious,” you twirled your hair and bit your lip.

“....You need to do something to your car.” they suddenly threw that at you like it was a completely reasonable statement. 

“EXCUSE ME?”

“Slash one of your tires!”

“Are you high right now, be honest with me,” You narrowed your eyes.

“Desperate times, babe,”

“Desperate times, not PSYCHOTIC times,”

“Look if you have a flat tire, you’ll have to call AAA and have them come and fix it, that should give you at least an hour. Then you can go back inside, get him ALONE, and get your moment!” They tried reasoning with you. Was that Hurricane THAT strong, or were they actually making some sense?

“...Why am I listening to this?” you kept a straight face, even though it was just a phone call.

“You can act smug all you want baby, but I can hear it in your voice; you’re considering it,” 

“Of course I’m considering it! But it’s...it’s insane. It’s like, ‘Fatal Attraction’ crazy,” 

“Ok I’m not telling you to boil his bunny, just inconvenience yourselves for another hour, drama queen,” you could hear both of you rolling your respective eyes at each other.

“And what’s more insane; puncturing a tire, or giving up something we both know you’ve wanted for MONTHS,” They pointed out. 

“How do you--” You blinked in disbelief. 

“Girl, please. I knew before you did, and I’ve never even met the man,” 

After several more moments of silence, you pulled your keys towards your face. 

“...I’ll call you later,”

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you sprinted outside to the parking lot and back to your car. You pulled the nail file attached to your key ring, and stared at your tires. 

“God forgive me…” You sighed, making a sign of the cross across your chest before kneeling next to your left rear tire.

You dragged the nail file across the tire, it barely made a scratch. Panic began filling your head, thinking of missing any chance to have Rafael’s lips on yours. Your BFF was right, you probably had a thing for him the moment you met him; even though you hadn’t even dared to let yourself think about it, until this morning. This WAS like an alternate dimension, it was like the rules of the ‘normal’ world were moot. 

The emotions of it all bubbled to a head as you stared at the tire; with a sort of pathetic battle cry, you PLUNGED the nail file into your tire and pulled it HARD across the top. Air came gushing out, the tire deflating in mere seconds. You sat back, the nail file in your hand like a machete, your breath going in and out like you had just run a marathon. Okay, you did go a LITTLE psycho there for a second. 

You barely had time to admire the work, you knew you had to go back inside to make it look like you had been in the bathroom this whole time. 

There was no going back now. 

----

Back inside you weaved in and out of the crowd back towards the bathroom, then made a turn for the booth so it looked like you had come from that direction. You walked up slowly, still hidden in the crowded bar as you heard an exchange between Barba and Oliva.

“...What I’m saying is, don’t start leading her on when you know it’s not going anywhere,” 

“How do you know it’s not going anywhere, Liv?” 

“Barba. Be serious,” 

Oh hell no. Who was she to make that decision? Surely he didn’t think that...did he? 

“HEY, hi,” you spoke up loudly, the entire group jumping at your rather loud greeting. 

“Oh hey Y/N we uh, I got the check. I just went ahead and paid for everybody, and when I say I, I mean Dodd’s,” She smiled, like she hadn’t just insulted the fuck out of you. 

“Oh, yeah? Ready to head home then?” You acted completely oblivious, noticing Rafael was avoiding your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve got my nanny waiting on me and it’s already...8 o clock?!” Olivia gasped, looking at her phone. 

“Good lord, how long have we been here? I better call my sitter,” Amanda grabbed her own phone out of her bag as the group walked out.

“Well, we were driving for a good 45 minutes outside of Hartford before Rafael made us stop here,” 

“Wait, what?” You now for the very first time, took a good long look at the parking lot. The bar was next to a motel on one side, a gas station on the other side next to it. And then field, across from it. And for miles. 

You were literally in the middle of nowhere. 

“Oh god…” you muttered, mentally yelling obscenities at your BFF and yourself for listening to their bat shit logic. Fin glanced at you quizzically, overhearing your ranting-- and then you heard Sonny’s voice.

“Is that….?” 

You saw him gesture towards your back wheel. FUCK.

“Oh my god, are you serious?? A Flat tire?!” Amanda slammed her phone against your car. 

“Barba must have driven across a nail, or glass, or something in the parking lot. Probably a broken beer bottle if we’re being honest,” Sonny scoffed looking at the less than stellar cars in the parking lot. 

“Hey it’s not Barba’s fault!” You snapped defensively, once again mentally face palming. THINK before speaking. 

“I mean it’s...it’s nobody’s fault, right? I mean, maybe the road people? Or, drunk hicks? Certainly no one here in this vicinity though, I mean obviously,” Nope, still couldn’t stop talking. 

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, looking from you to Barba, who was staring at the pavement silently. She started to say something, but realized she had no concrete evidence to start throwing accusations. 

“She’s right Liv, it was just a stupid accident,” Fin chimed in, patting Olivia’s shoulder. 

“Do you at least have AAA?” Olivia asked you, still suspicious of the sudden turn of events.

“Oh yeah, I’ve...I’ve never used it before though,” You dug into your wallet and pulled out a worn out AAA card. Olivia took it and started dialing the number into her phone. 

You took this moment to start your mission, despite the fact that your plan was quickly running off the rails.

“Can we…?” You motioned sideways, Barba nodded and moved to the side with you. 

“Look, Y/N. The whole dance thing it was, cute. Flattering.”

“Flattering?” you scoffed. Seriously?

“But, I mean you know we’re in front of the whole squad, and we’re working,” His words cut you like knives. Was he actually implying that whole was embarrassing?

“ ..And I just don’t think--”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” Olivia’s booming voice snapped you both out of the conversation. 

“Yeah, well-- thanks a lot,” she scoffed, tossing your card as she hung up the phone.

“Hey I might--” you walked back over to her, her red hot eyes meeting yours. 

“You don’t have AAA out here,” she spoke directly to you, the annoyance of her voice turning to anger.

“W-What do you mean they don’t--”

“I mean, Y/N-- your AAA card is for NEW YORK, and we’re still in CONNECTICUT,” 

“Liv seriously will you knock it off? Leave her alone, she didn’t know,” Barba finally spoke up in defense of you, putting space between you and Olivia. 

“I’m...I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it’s not your fault,” she apologized, not knowing it was indeed your fault. 

“What am I gonna tell Lucy? We’re going to be stuck here until morning,” She sighed. 

“Morning?” Amanda exclaimed angrily. “What about my Jesse?” 

“I’m sure Lucy will watch her at my place with Noah, Amanda. I’ll call her right now,” Olivia assured her, the two of them walking off to the side.

You started running your hands through your hair and pacing like mad, trying not to hyperventilate. This wasn’t supposed to happen!! This was supposed to be a MINOR inconvenience, not a crisis! WHY did you listen to your BFF? 

“Hey, are you ok?” Barba came up behind you and put both hands on your shoulders. 

“Come on Y/N you know that’s not what I--” he protested but you wouldn’t hear it.

“Why do you care all of a sudden? Didn’t I embarrass you in front of your colleagues?” You snapped your head around, glaring at him.

“Can we please just forget it, PLEASE? I am already getting my karmic ass kicked, I don’t need you lecturing me on top of it,” You started walking towards the door of the bar. 

“What? I’m not lecturing you I don’t--” He trailed behind you.

“EXACTLY,” You spun back around, planting your feet as you stared directly into his eyes. He stopped suddenly almost on top of you, surprised by your sudden stop; his puppy dog eyes were begging you to forgive him. 

“Exactly. You don’t want to, I get it counselor. I get it. I should have never--” you feigned tears welling up in your throat.

“Carino--” he went for your hand. 

“Don’t. Just-- I’m sorry. For all of this,” You snapped your hand back and ran back inside the bar, noticing Barba following right behind you. Your fake tear filled face now slid into a sly smirk. 

You were getting this moment come hell or high water now. 

[jade4813]

The Lies We Tell Ourselves, Chapter 5

Fandom: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

Title: The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Rating: PG (I’m assuming it’ll stay there?)

Pairing: Zoey/Max

Synopsis: Max would do anything for Zoey. Including posing as her fake boyfriend to give her father one last “big moment” to celebrate with her. Nothing could possibly go wrong. After all, it’s only his heart that stands to be broken. Right?

Chapter: 5/?

Author’s Notes: Takes place after Zoey’s Extraordinary Glitch.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

“I can’t stop this feeling, deep inside of me. Boy, you just don’t realize what you do to me,” Zoey sang at a volume approximating the top of her lungs as she danced around her kitchen, popping toast onto a plate and giving the scrambled eggs one more flip with her spatula before dumping them on top. “When you hold me in your arms so tight, you let me know everything’s all right! I-I-I-I-I’m hooked on a feeling! I’m high on believing that you’re in lo-”

She broke off at the sound of a loud knock on her front door. She did a little boogie with her hips as she flipped off the stove in a smooth gesture. Then she danced her way over to the table to drop off her plate on her way to the door. At a much more reasonable volume, she continued to sing as she moved. “Your lips are sweet as candy and the taste stays on my mind. Boy, you got me thirsty for another cup of – Mo? H-hey! What’s up?”

He threw her a pointed look as he walked past her into her living room. “What’s up with me? I came over here to find out what’s up with you.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied. “I’m just getting ready for work, and -”

“You’re singing,” he finished for her.

She tried one more time to avoid the conversation. “So-o-o?” she asked, drawing out the word. “I…sing. On occasion. Sometimes.”

“Nuh-uh. I’ve lived across the hall from you for a while, and I can tell you one thing. You? Don’t sing. I sing. Other people sing. But you don’t sing.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he pointed one finger at her. “Zoey? Spill.”

“Oh, all right,” she huffed, collapsing into her chair to eat her rapidly cooling breakfast. “I’m in a good mood because, you know, it’s a beautiful day outside, and things are really going well for me at work, and also,” she took a big bite and ducked her head, hoping to obscure the words, “Max and I kissed.” Swallowing quickly, she looked up and threw Mo a wide grin. “So did you want a cup of coffee or something? I don’t have a lot of time, but -”

“But you are going to make time because I heard you, and you are not dropping that bombshell on me and then racing out the door.” Mo’s eyes were bright with excitement as he took a seat on the other side of the table. When Zoey didn’t say anything right away, he prompted, “So? Details!”

She sighed and started pushing her congealing eggs around her plate. “It’s…complicated.” That word again. She was starting to hate that word.

“Uh huh. I’m sure. So who kissed who? Did that man finally give in to the burning passion that’s been building up inside him for years? Or did you decide it was high time to take him for a test ride?”

She rolled her eyes. “Neither.” She paused. “Or both? I don’t know. In answer to your question, he kissed me. But I kind of made him.” At Mo’s confused expression, she explained, “Okay, so you’re probably going to think this is ridiculous, but I kinda…sorta…asked Max to pretend to date me. Just until my dad…just to make my dad happy for these last few weeks.”

She expected a wide range of reactions to her confession, but he just blinked at her a few times, stunned. “You’re pretending to date Max.” She nodded. “And so that’s why you two kissed.” She nodded again. “Because you’re pretending to date each other.” One more nod. “Which is definitely a thing normal people do. And I guess the only way could convince your family you were dating at that moment was to kiss him.”

Zoey couldn’t meet his eyes. “Well, technically nobody else was around. We were…practicing.”

Mo leaned back in his chair. “Right. If you’re going to pretend to date someone, it only makes sense that you have to practice pretending to kiss them. So you can do it convincingly. Out of curiosity, how many practice kisses did it take?”

She winced. Splaying her hands, she tapped her fingertips together and said meekly, “Well, that depends how you want to count them. Do you mean incidents of practice kissing, or number of times our lips may have met during those incidents?” Mo just cupped his chin in one hand and threw her an expectant look. “So…we only had that one incident. Um, so far. And as for the other question,” she began scrunching her face in thought, “I’m honestly not sure.”

“Well, since you’ve been singing “Hooked on a Feeling” all morning, I don’t think there’s any need to ask you how you liked the kiss. Or kisses.”

Zoey felt warmth spread from her chest, up her neck, to her face, and she assumed if she looked at her reflection at that moment, she’d see she’d turned bright red. “In all fairness, Max is…skilled…in the…arts…related to…the lips. And tongue.” She hid her mouth behind her coffee and mumbled in an undertone, “And teeth.”

Mo threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, I see. I had such high hopes for him. Good to know he didn’t let me down. So, I take this to mean you finally made your decision.”

“My decision?” she asked with feigned innocence, standing to take her dishes to the sink. She really would be late if she didn’t get moving. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t willing to let it go. “You’ve been torn between Simon and Max for months. I was hoping all this meant that you’ve finally decided to pick a side.”

“There’s no side!” she protested, throwing up her hands. “Simon is…a great guy. And attractive. And completely engaged to someone else. Max is,” she paused, waving one hand helplessly in the air as though trying to summon the words before continuing, “well, he’s Max. I’m not deciding anything because there’s nothing to decide! I am not in a place to get into a real relationship right now. This whole thing with Max is just…it’s all pretend. So that my dad doesn’t worry about me. And when it’s over…”

Mo’s eyes were sympathetic when he finished her sentence for her. “And when it’s over, the kisses stop. And eventually, he may move on to someone who doesn’t just want a pretend relationship. Is that really what you want?”

Zoey sighed as she shrugged into her coat and reached for the door. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I just…I can’t deal with anything real right now.”

Mo paused and put his hand on her shoulder as he walked past her into the hall. “Well, next time you decide to practice kissing with Max, you let me know how it goes. Soap operas have less drama than you do.”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she jogged down the steps, though she found herself singing in an undertone again by the time she hit the street. “All the good love when we’re all alone. Keep it up, boy. Yeah, you turn me on. I’m hooked on a feeling! I’m high on believing that you’re in love with me…”

Was it her imagination, or was Max avoiding her? She’d tried not to read too much into his behavior, but every time she tried to grab a few moments with him alone, he suddenly remembered a very pressing appointment he needed to make. Or phone call. Or conversation. On the other side of the building.

As she stood on the top of the risers and watched him work at his desk, she couldn’t help but wonder. Was she really that bad of a kisser? Sure, she was a little out of practice, but she couldn’t possibly be that bad, could she? Not bad enough to justify him doing everything in his power to avoid having to kiss her again. The very thought was demoralizing.

Giving her head a quick, determined shake, she hopped down the risers and approached his desk. “Max? Do you have a minute?”

“Oh, hey, Zoey!” he greeted her with false cheer. “Ah, you know, I’d love to talk, but I have something I need to deal with first. For, um, for Joan.”

That did it. She followed him to their boss’s office, but before he could walk inside, she darted around him. “Hey, Joan?” she asked brightly, poking her head inside the office door. “I need to grab Max for a few minutes, okay? We’ll be right back.”

Joan made a disgusted face. “I do not need to know what the two of you do on your lunch hour. Just leave me out of it,” she replied, waving the two of them away.

“Great!” she replied, grabbing Max’s arm and propelling him towards the elevators. “Max, I think you and I need to go for a cup of coffee.”

“Well, we have a -” he began, turning towards the coffee bar.

She shook her head. “Outside. Just the two of us.”

The silence that fell between them was strained as they rode the elevator down to the ground floor and headed outside. Now that she had Max alone, she wasn’t sure what to say. They were a few doors down from SPRQ Point’s entrance when she couldn’t take the silence any longer. Stopping next to some concrete stairs, she climbed up the first step so she could look him in the eye. “Okay, look. There’s something I need to – I’m sorry about last night. I know I – it was pretty bad, huh?”

His face fell. “Bad? You’d really describe it as bad?”

She barely registered his disappointment too wrapped up in her own self-doubt. It wasn’t every day that a girl found out her kisses were so awkward, her partner would rather avoid her than risk hurting her feelings. “I was just nervous, you know? And, okay, I’m a little out of practice. But I think if we just…oh, to hell with it.” Before she could embarrass herself further, she wrapped her arms around Max’s neck and practically threw herself at him, launching herself into his arms as she pressed her lips against his.

Max let out a soft sound of surprise, his arms wrapping around her instinctively as she landed against his chest. But a moment later, they tightened, holding her steady as she deepened the kiss. She curled her fingers into his hair, which was somehow softer than she’d imagined, and almost wanted to cheer aloud when he started to kiss her back.

Last night, he had taken charge of the kiss, overwhelming her senses as he pulled her deeper and deeper into the embrace. This time, she was determined to set the pace. She brushed feather-soft kisses against his lips until they parted for her, and when she felt him try to take control, she teased him by pulling away slightly. He moaned, but he relented, and so she ran her tongue consolingly along the curve of his lower lip and deepened the kiss once more.

She didn’t know how long they stood there, locked in their embrace, but the soft sound of someone clearing their throat a few feet away finally penetrated Zoey’s mental fog and caught her attention. Reluctantly, she pulled away from Max and looked over his shoulder, almost falling over when she saw her mom, dad, Emily, and Howie staring at her.

“Mom! Dad! Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked, scrambling out of Max’s embrace and trying desperately to get her clothes in order.

Emily had her head tilted to the side, giving them both a considering look. Her mom looked amused, and though it was sometimes hard to read her dad’s expressions, she could swear there was both surprise and happiness in his eyes. For his part, Howie was looking at the sky, like he was searching for passing airplanes. “Emily had an appointment at the doctor today, and David’s hearing is running late, so she asked us to come along. We were just headed to lunch and thought we’d stop by and invite you to join us,” her mom explained. “You too, Max, of course.”

“If we aren’t interrupting anything,” Howie added dryly.

“Interrupting? Us? N-no! Of course not!” Zoey stammered, grabbing Max’s hand as she stepped down next to him. “We were just on our way to lunch, too. We’d be happy to join you.”

“You know, if you wanted some time alone, I could -” Max began, but Zoey squeezed his hand and threw him a threatening look.

“Don’t you dare.” If she had to face her family with the knowledge they’d just seen her make out with her fake-boyfriend in front of the entire world, she wasn’t going to do it alone.

They had walked only about a half a block before her sister-in-law commented, “So, I guess things really are fine between you guys.”

Feeling her cheeks heat, Zoey replied defensively, “Of course they are! We just…needed a little time. To get used to things.”

“Uh huh. Well, you better be careful,” Emily advised. “Last time David kissed me like that, I ended up like this.” She gestured toward her pregnant stomach.

Max let out a tiny, surprised puff of laughter, while Zoey inwardly cringed. “Ew!” she cried, only half-jokingly. She covered her face, though whether it was to avoid looking at Emily’s expression or to prevent Max from seeing her own, she wasn’t entirely sure. “I did not need to know that, thank you!”

“I’m just saying,” Emily remarked with an unrepentant grin.

In a voice slightly louder and a shade higher-pitched than usual, Max tried desperately to change the subject, “So, Mitch, did you see the game last week?”

Mitch shifted in his seat to look up at him, just as Howie said jovially, “So, Max. Mitch said you asked Zoey out using a flash mob. That’s pretty brave!”

Zoey’s stomach twisted into a knot, and she wracked her brain for a way to change the subject. She didn’t want to talk about this. Her family all thought that this story had a happy ending, but of course she knew it didn’t. She didn’t want Max to be hurt by the reminder.

She started to comment on the weather, when Emily interjected, “Especially since Zoey isn’t always good at dealing with big emotional moments.”

Her head whipped around as she turned to stare at her sister-in-law. “What are you talking about! I don’t have a problem with big emotional moments!”

“Which is why you ran away afterwards?” Emily pointed out. Zoey loved her sister-in-law, but at times like this, it was sometimes hard to remember that her bluntness was meant with kindness. After all, she – like everyone else in her family – believed that things had all worked out in the end, and Zoey had ultimately realized she reciprocated Max’s feelings. If she hadn’t, Zoey knew she wouldn’t be so cruel as to make light of such a painful memory.

Zoey wanted to console Max, but he was the one who gave her hand a quick, comforting squeeze. She looked up into his eyes and saw a quick flash of the heartache he tried to hide, but then he released her and shifted away. “Well, you didn’t see me dance. I only had three rehearsals, after all. Running away might have been the right call,” he joked, breaking out into a couple impromptu dance moves on the sidewalk. Redirecting the conversation away from her reaction to his confession. Making a mockery of his own pain to shield her from her own.

“Max, no,” she protested softly, reaching for his arm. Had he always done this, protecting her at the cost of his own feelings? She’d never thought about it before, but she had a suspicion the answer was yes, and it broke her heart. Determined to stop her family from unintentionally causing him further agony, she said loudly, “That’s not what happened. I -”

“Well, at least it all worked out, and you two realized you love each other. That’s all that matters. And it sounds like it was a wonderful gesture, Max. The kind of moment Mitch would have loved,” Maggie cut in, oblivious to her daughter’s inner turmoil. “He’s always been a sucker for those big, romantic moments. Haven’t you, Mitch?”

Her father indicated agreement, and the opportunity to clear the air was lost as the conversation redirected to more mundane logistical matters when they entered the restaurant. But Zoey noticed that Max didn’t reach for her hand again throughout lunch, or on the walk back to the office. She was only now beginning to realize how many small sacrifices Max made on her behalf. How many times she’d probably inadvertently wounded him, without even realizing it – not just now, but in all the years of their friendship leading up to this moment. What that must have cost him – and continued to cost him still, as he covered up his pain with humor and hid it from the world. From her.

She missed the warmth of his hand in hers.

Max groaned as he looked over at the clock. Curling his arm underneath his head, he glanced over at the clock on his nightstand. It was after two, and he was completely unable to fall asleep. He kept thinking about Zoey and their kiss. Kisses.

“They didn’t mean anything, Max,” he scolded himself, but even in the quiet solitude of his bedroom, his words lacked conviction. She’d kissed him earlier that day, hadn’t she? Of course, their whole pretend relationship was her idea, so that didn’t have to mean anything. But she hadn’t just kissed him. She’d kissed him. Like she meant it. Like she didn’t want to stop.

Maybe things had changed for her. They’d certainly changed for him. Maybe he should ask her. Would that really be so terrible?

Yes, it would. Because she’d already asked him for time, and he’d agreed to give it to her. He’d promised he wouldn’t allow himself to be confused by their fake relationship. She knew how he felt, and she’d already told him she wasn’t ready for more, and it wouldn’t be right to pressure her.

Plus, she’d said their first kiss was bad, earlier. And maybe she hadn’t mean it the way it sounded; he couldn’t be entirely sure. But still, he doubted anyone went from calling a kiss “bad” one minute to declaring their undying love in the next.

Bad. Bad? She’d thought it was bad? He’d thought it was pretty earth-shattering himself, but…no. He wasn’t going to allow himself to dwell on the thought she hadn’t been as moved by their first kiss as he was. Of course she wasn’t. Didn’t that basically sum up their whole relationship? That she barely noticed moments that left him wanting more?

So, no. He shouldn’t say anything. He should absolutely keep his feelings to himself. Keep repeating to himself that none of it meant anything.

But it felt like it had meant something.

Before he could resume his mental merry-go-round, torturing himself with questions that had no clear answers, he heard a sound at his front door. Sitting up, he strained to listen and heard it again. Light tapping, like someone faintly knocking.

Confused, he jumped out of bed and headed to the door. When he looked through the peephole and saw a familiar tumble of red hair, he caught his breath. Could it really be Zoey? Had he somehow conjured her there with his thoughts? Or was his sleep-deprived brain playing tricks on him?

He saw her shoulders slump as she stepped away from the door, her movements unsteady, and fumbled with the lock as he tried to pull it open before she could leave. “Zoey? What are you doing here?”

[elven-oracle]

the siren, act i: serenity |p.p. / part 1|

moodboard credit to @candycornparker

[teaser] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7]

SUMMARY: When merchant ships start mysteriously going missing, Tony Stark enlists the help of Peter Parker to discover what could possibly be causing them to vanish from thin air. Unbeknownst to them, some mysteries go deeper than the sea itself.

PAIRING: Peter Parker x Siren!OC

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

Peter Parker was not engaged in his modern politics class.

School was miles away. The only thing he was engaged in was the phone that had vibrated in his pocket at the beginning of seventh period. He would have gotten it confiscated if he hadn’t suavely talked his way out of the predicament. Now, the phone was burning a hole in his pocket, and his leg was bouncing out of control. Happy Hogan’s name appearing on his screen was a rare occurrence, and it sucked that it had popped up almost milliseconds before the bell rang. He stole a glance at the clock for the millionth time that afternoon and realigned his focus for the last ten minutes.

“Okay,” his teacher, Mr. Ellis, looked through his lesson plan, “We have ten minutes left, let’s briefly touch on the missing merchant ships.”

The class erupted into excitement, every student turning to each other to dive into the various theories they had heard, and some that they had come up with themselves. It was a topic of particular interest and had been dominating the news. Peter had a decent feeling the notification had something to do with it as well; this type of mystery was like candy for Mr. Stark.

“Okay! Okay!” Mr. Ellis sighed, trying to settle down his class, “Yes. It’s insane. It’s crazy. We’re not here to talk about aliens, or the Bermuda triangle, this is a politics class and I want you to tell me how this affects international relations.”

Peter wanted to zone out again, even though he knew the answer. He looked over to Ned, who was sitting across the room and rolled his eyes. The Friday blues were hanging over their heads, the weekend just a hop away.

“Attacks on trade ships have started world wars,” MJ said, she was sitting next to Ned. If there weren’t assigned seats, they would all be sitting together. In usual MJ fashion, she hadn’t not bothered to raise her hand. She shrugged at Peter and returned to her sketch.

Mr. Ellis affirmed this, “Correct. The mysterious disappearance has already caused tension. Since there is no viable evidence that this is an attack, not a whole lot can be done, and next week we’ll dive further into the problem trade relationships can cause. Have a good weekend.”

Before Mr. Ellis had finished his sentence Peter was out of his seat, packing up his notebook and laptop to leave school. He bounded out, racing towards the door in a childlike glee and whipped out his phone from his back pocket. Sure enough, there was a text from Happy waiting for him, along with a sleek black car in the front of the school. Happy Hogan leaned against it, looking unamused. He adjusted his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and opened the door. 

“You got my text, Mr. Parker?”

Peter skimmed it, Boss needs your help with an important project. Might have to stay overnight. Will pick you up from school. He nodded.

“Have you let your aunt know?”

“Will do!” he shot him an enthusiastic set of finger guns and fell into the backseat, shooting May a text to let him know what his weekend might hold.

Happy wasn’t much of a talker, and it was hard for Peter to shut up when he was bursting with excitement. He kept his mouth shut, anyways, not wanting to say anything stupid. This was the first time he had heard the phrase “important project” in all the time he had been working with Mr. Stark, and the potential was endless. It had been a painfully long month since anything interesting had happened, and even then, interesting was an understatement. Taking down Mr. Toomes, who Peter had now nicknamed The Vulture, was terrifying, but in the best way possible. He finally felt like he was doing something right. Petty theft and muggings could only fuel his need to help for so long. The responsibility he carried with his abilities seemed to grow with every day that was put in between the last time he had spoken with Mr. Stark. The fact that he had enlisted his help, he couldn’t help but be thrilled.

His phone buzzed again, a text from Aunt May.

Okay, Peter, next time maybe call and ask? I know that you haven’t been putting yourself in too much danger, but the Spider-Man thing still worries me.

He sighed. The care that he felt for Aunt May was unparalleled, which was precisely why he had no intention for her finding out. She obviously had been struck with quite a shock, walking in on him wearing his suit, but with further explanation, it had all made sense. She wasn’t dense; she knew he had been sneaking out. After probably the longest conversation of his life, she finally gave in to business as usual, as long as he kept open communication with her.

He twiddled his thumbs until the Avengers Complex came into sight. The place felt like Disneyland to Peter, and it took everything in him not to jump from the car and take off running.

Mr. Stark, dressed in his usual formal attire, met them outside. His expression was unidentifiable thanks to the sunglasses that shaded his eyes, and he didn’t speak a word as he led Peter inside. His confident gait remained unaffected by Peter’s eager nature.

“Mr. Parker, how have things been? Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man keeping you busy?”

“Yes sir, I-“

“And your aunt? I heard she found out?”

“She did Mr. Stark but-“

“And school? I can only do so much to get you into MIT.”

“School’s all right and wow I really appreciate that Mr. Stark but-“

“You got a girlfriend yet? Boyfriend? I don’t know your preferences I guess but-“ “Mr. Stark!” Peter finally cut him off, frustration and curiosity getting the better of him. Sometimes his mentor’s wittiness was humorous, but when it was knowingly teasing, he didn’t want to beat around the bush. Mr. Stark raised his eyebrows and took off his shades, stopping the steady pace they had been keeping

“Peter. Suit up. I’m assuming you brought the suit. Happy will take you to my lab where I can explain everything. Kapeesh?”

Peter nodded, nervously fidgeting with the straps on his backpack. He watched Mr. Stark confidently put on his sunglasses and walk away, unsure of how to feel. In front of him, Happy gestured him towards the restroom.

Being able to take his time changing into his suit was a new feeling. Normally he would be hidden in an alleyway, doing all he could to remain unidentifiable, but now he stared at his reflection in the mirror, unfazed. He paused before taking pulling the mask over his head, examining the expression in his chocolate eyes. There was a bit of fear in them, but like every Spider-Man duty, he brushed it away and pulled the mask on, his suit coming to life.

Good afternoon, Peter. How was your Friday?

“Good, Karen. Good,” Peter exhaled, unaware that he had been holding his breath.

Glad to hear it.

Feeling somewhat clownlike standing next to Happy, he followed a maze of hallways and a few flights of stairs to their final destination. A few times, Happy had to scan his hand to get through, which Peter found incredibly impressive. One day he hoped to be at that level of trust with Mr. Stark.

The lab was not of the tradition he was used to, but it was a prime example of who Mr. Stark was as a person. Music boomed and reverberated off the walls, various AI’s and robots assisting their creator at every command. Happy stood at the door as Peter, eyes wide as saucers, gawked at his surroundings.

“Like it? It’s gone through phases. Variations. Had to move it a couple times. Especially when my house practically burned down,” he searched for Peter’s eyes through the mask. “Mind taking that off for a moment?”

Peter scrambled to remove it, “Oh! Yeah of course. Sorry.”

He added a nervous laugh for good measure.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. pull up my research on the missing boats.”

Right away.

Holographic images, articles, and videos all materialized directly in front of Peter’s eyes. They layered and piled on one another, and if these had been physical documents, it would have reached the ceiling. The devastating mystery continued. 64 lives had been lost, no one knows if they were stranded or dead. It had been months since these ships had been heard from, and no one knew where they were going. No bodies, no remains, no rubble, nothing gave any sort of lead to where or why they were vanishing. The only information they really had was-

“After the United States made a slight variation in the route they were taking, ships went missing left and right, luckily, they were smart enough to figure that minuscule clue out. Thoughts?” Mr. Stark looked at Peter quizzically.

“I-uh-well-“ Peter started to fumble over his words, but regained his composure to add on his ideas, “They have sent rescue boats through that route though, correct? The video and audio footage from the last five minutes before vanishing show silence. Complete silence. There’s no viable explanation yet.”

“Yet,” Mr. Stark looked at Happy with a mischievous smirk. “That is precisely why I have brought you here Mr. Parker. You have a scientific mind. Reminds me of me. Don’t you think, Happy? Don’t answer that.”

“Okay, Mr. Stark but I don’t really see what me suiting up has anything to do with-“ “Let me finish, Pete. Can I call you Pete?”

“I guess so.”

“You’re suited up because we are headed to an area in the Atlantic Ocean that I suspect is where these ships are going missing.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, concerned, “Isn’t that sort of…dangerous?”

“Not if we take a plane. I have some good ones as well. I’m not guaranteeing we’ll find anything, but it’s worth a shot, and a sample of the water. Maybe a giant octopus. We might be there for a while, sitting. Observing. Science,” Mr. Stark brushed away the holograms and threw a pen behind his ear.

“Science…” Peter couldn’t put a finger on how to respond. The fact that of all the people he could have called (which was probably a lot), he called Peter. It was validation he hadn’t felt since Mr. Stark returned the Spider-Man suit to him. Mr. Stark trusted Peter with a top secret and delicate mission, and that was remarkable.

“You do like science, don’t you?”

Peter snapped out of his shock, “Right! Yes, Mr. Stark, I do. This-this is right up my alley.”

Mr. Stark smirked again, “Good. Follow me to the aircraft. I have everything we could possibly need, so all you have to bring is your person.”

Peter waited while Mr. Stark gathered things, various papers that he shoved into a briefcase. He turned around expecting to find Happy, but all he saw was his back walking away down the long hallway and into the elevator. When he turned back, Mr. Stark was already on his way, Peter needing to jog to catch up with him.

The first time Peter flew on an airplane he was headed to Germany to fight Captain America. The second time Peter flew on an airplane, he wasn’t on the inside of it, he was on the outside. This was the third time Peter had flown on an airplane, and it wasn’t even that. The jet looked like every single Stark Jet he had seen on TV. He never thought he would see one in person, nonetheless ride on one. Stepping on it felt completely out of reality. As they approached the cockpit, Mr. Stark gestured for him to put his mask on, which he did promptly. A pilot and a co-pilot sat in their respective seats, preparing for takeoff.

“Don’t worry, Spider-Man, they know that this is a top-secret mission. They’re sworn to secrecy. Right boys?”

The two women flying the plane looked unamused by Mr. Stark’s obvious sarcasm. They turned to Peter, looking at him nonchalantly.

“Taking a break from protecting Queens, Spidey?” the Pilot’s black hair was pulled into a tight bun. It hardly bothered her that Queens’ crime-fighting hero was in her midst. Not that Peter chalked himself up to that, but generally people had to take a moment and confirm that what they were seeing was actually Spider-Man.

“I-I guess yeah.”

The pilot looked confused, “Why does he sound like he’s 12?”

“I-“

“AND that’s our cue to leave. Thank you, Ms. Tran, your endless services to my company are continuously appreciated,” Mr. Stark took Peter by the shoulders and guided him away from the cockpit and into the main cabin. He sat in a seat, anxiety starting to creep into the back of his throat. He knew that Mr. Stark would never purposefully put him in danger, but he couldn’t help but explore the idea that what was causing the disappearances could cause a jet to go missing as well.

The plane rumbled, shook, and hovered above the ground and into the air. The jet moved faster but was more stable than a standard passenger cabin. The latest in Stark technology would probably make a five-hour trip less than 30 minutes.

“We’ll be there before you know it,” Mr. Stark was reading something on his phone. “I don’t know exactly what we’re looking for, kid, but I have a feeling we’ll know it when we see it. We’re essentially doing a stakeout.”

Observational science had provided plenty of breakthroughs but sounded incredibly boring. As Peter listened to Tony’s plan to watch and record every half hour, he secretly dreaded what was to come, unsure of how this could possibly get interesting. They were going to be there until midnight, when if they didn’t find anything they would return to the complex for the night. It was 4 P.M., and this was about to be the longest six to seven hours of Peter’s life.

They came to a stop, and Mr. Stark moved to the side Peter was sitting on, opening a window that covered the length of the jet. It provided a complete view. He opened the other identical window on the left side.

“Are you willing to sit on top of the jet, kid? I have equipment you can set up there, and an emergency button in case something dangerous happens,” Mr. Stark rolled in a cart. A laptop was mounted on a device designed to stick to the plane, as well as a desktop with notebooks, pens, highlighters, anything he might need to effectively record data.

“Y-yeah I think so.” “Good. You’ll do good, Parker. Let’s get you set up.”

The pair worked together to set up Peter’s station, lots of crawling and webbing to keep them stable. When Peter was finally comfortable, they exchanged some thumbs up, and Peter set to work. He opened the laptop and started the notes that Mr. Stark had carefully instructed him on how to take.

Hour .5, 4:33PM, water remains still save for the natural oscillation of waves. Fortunately, nothing seems out of the ordinary. Weather is clear, a couple clouds here and there. It would really suck for me if it started raining. That’s beside the point. If there’s any variation I will record, but for now, I will return to watching the sea.

And that was that.

He didn’t have much to do unless something drastically changed, so he rolled up his mask to just above his nose and inhaled, the clean, unpolluted air utterly refreshing. He asked Karen to notify him of any variations of his surroundings, then laid out onto his back, eyes glossily transfixed on the pure blue sky.

“Karen, can you play that song…that one sea shanty…it’s really creepy and stuff.”

Peter, I’m not entirely sure what you’re referring to.

“Oh come on…the first line is like, ‘My heart is kissed by Cupid’ or something like that.”

Now playing Jolly Sailor Bold

“Yeah.”

My heart is pierced by Cupid.

I disdain all glitter and gold.

For nothing can console me,

but my jolly sailor bold.

Peter pictured himself on the sea, a pirate. He had always enjoyed the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, even though he was conflicted by the fact that these men were traditionally violent, raping criminals. Plus, Johnny Depp was now everything that he didn’t want to be. He eliminated pirate from his head and changed the image to a sailor. A white, linen shirt, damp and windswept hair, leaning off the side of a ship as it plowed through the ocean. It was an interesting fiction.

Hour 4. 8:02PM. Over halfway there. The sun is barely starting to set. It’s getting cloudier, and the ocean is just as calm as it was when I first started. A couple of birds have landed on the surface and have floated for a few moments, and nothing seems to be causing them to vanish as mentioned in hour 2.5. Other than that, no changes.

It was getting painfully boring, but Peter persisted. Every so often Mr. Stark would check in on him, they would compare notes and then go back to it. Dinner was at 6, but the pangs of hunger had come out of nowhere an hour ago. Peter shifted to a position onto his stomach, grateful for the fact that he was sticky and would never fall off. His eyes drooped, tempting him to close them and take a nap, but he was almost there, and he knew that Mr. Stark would appreciate his efforts.

His sailor imagery reappeared in his mind, but something about the picture was clearer. It sat behind his eyes like a movie. On the banks of an island, a mermaid brought him, battered from a shipwreck to shore. It wasn’t anything from a Disney movie; scrapes and bruises scattered his body, and his left eye was swollen shut. The mermaid hoisted him onto land, her gentle hand lightly cupping his face. She cried heavy tears, sobs erupting from her chest over and over.  

Peter tried to look closer, knowing that he was certainly not asleep. The harder he looked, the less that the sailor looked like him. Startled, he opened his eyes, wondering why and how his imagination had taken him to that place.

Come all you pretty fair maids

Whoever you may be

Who love a jolly sailor

That plows the raging sea

He was about to record hour 4.5 when Karen notified him of a change on the surface of the water.

This isn’t like the other ones, Peter. This came from underneath rather than above. I’ll zoom in on it for you.

Karen did so, and Peter squinted under the mask to try and find what she had been referring to. She was right, there was a ripple that was growing and expanding until a figure emerged, and Peter had no idea what to think.

“Peter, are you seeing this?” Mr. Stark said in his ears.

“Yeah, Mr. Stark I am…”

He had planned on saying more, but what he saw in front of his own eyes took over. The figure looked human initially, but the more it revealed itself. . .herself. . .he saw that she was unlike anything he had seen before.

When she floated on her back, she confessed her true identity.

“Is that…”

Mr. Stark finished Peter’s thought, “A mermaid. Don’t be so surprised, Spider-Man, a majority of the sea is undiscovered.”

A mermaid. Not too unlike the mermaid he had imagined just moments before.

“But here…now…”

“I know.” An unfamiliar urge pulsated in Peter’s chest, calling him to investigate, “I’m going to go interact with her.”

“I’ll be watching. Be safe.”

Cautiously, above the misty water, Peter lowered himself down to the figure, suspending himself upside-down. He gave Mr. Stark a glance on his way down, still completely unsure of what could happen. The creature looked like nothing he had ever seen before. Long, blonde hair surrounded her head like a crown, and instead of legs, a flesh-colored tail that resembled every mermaid fairytale he had read as a small child. He hovered a few inches above the water, not wanting to disturb her. If she was sleeping, it had to be soundly, but it was very possible that she just had kept her eyes closed to fool them.

When they fluttered open, it startled Peter who almost lost his grip on the web. He placed another hand on it to stabilize himself, and when he looked back down, she was staring at him in the eyes, her wet hair pushed back out of her face. The eyes he looked into were a piercing silver, a color that no human was naturally born with. Then again, there was no way that this being was human. He lowered himself another inch to get a better look, but she quickly set her hand on his mask-covered forehead.

She shook her head but didn’t speak. In the depths of his mind, he felt a thought inexplicably emerge that wasn’t his own. Do not touch the water unless you seek to be greeted with death.

He could hardly focus as a longing feeling ached in his chest. He wanted to dive into the water with her and never return to the surface, the only thing preventing him from doing so was the hand on his forehead, a plea to follow her simple instructions. Reality felt distant, and he couldn’t determine where he was and what he was doing. Her face convulsed into a grimace, and a tear rolled down her face as she opened her mouth and began to sing. The fog that had already began to form thickened, and the question of reality died, transforming into a desire to be with this newfound woman for all of eternity. He had no idea what eternity felt like, but the ethereal angel in front of him did. He felt her peel down his mask, letting his lips brush against the cool, ocean air. Reaching out, he was almost able to make contact with her skin; she was barely out of reach.

It all came to a violent and jarring halt as he was ripped from the haze he had free fell into. 

“Peter, can you hear me now? Pete? Kid?”

“Wha- what yeah. Yeah. I can. What’s going on, Mr. Stark?” he did everything he could to sound as nonchalant as possible, but he sounded like he had just awoken from an all day nap.

“We lost you for a sec,” Mr. Stark sounded frantic, “Quick, web that thing and bring it onto the ship. I’m ready to get out of here.”

M A S T E R L IS T

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[buckyscrystalqueen]

The Ring and The Cure: Part 9

Pairings: Crowley x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff

Word Count: 2,021

A/N: Repost to spread it out the way it should be.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Daddy, it's super special park day!" Candice yelled as she ran into your bedroom at nearly the crack of dawn. You and you husband groaned before your little angel clambered onto the bed and threw herself on Crowley.

"Oh fuckin..." He groaned. You yanked the blanket up to your chin to hide your lack of attire, reached over and whacked his arm as your daughter's face turned to a look of shock.

"Oooo! Mommy, daddy said a bad word!" She said and Crowley glared at her.

"Tattletale." He teased as he tickled her sides causing her to squeal and flail on the bed; sending limbs flying everywhere. He let her squirm for a minute before the two of them got silent for a moment.

"Don't do it." You said without even opening your eyes only seconds before your daughter attacked you with tickles while Crowley made sure the blanket didn't get pulled down. "Alright I'm up!" You squealed. The two of them laughed and you shook your head and looked at your not so little girl. "Happy Birthday, Candi Cane." Her face lit up with a giant smile and she looked at her dad expectantly. 

"Is it your birthday? No, you had one last year you don't get one this year!" He said as he pulled himself up to lean against the head board and he put an extra pillow on his lap.

"Daddy! It's my birthday every year!" She whined and Crowley put his left arm across his body, rested his right elbow on his wrist and stroked his chin as if he was debating this new information.

"Well I suppose I will allow it." He smiled at her and pulled her onto his lap for a big hug. He looked over at you and smiled as his little princess squeezed him tight. "I love you. Merry Christmas." He mouthed and you returned the sentiment as you reached out and rubbed your hand on his thigh. 

"Can we go to the park now?" Candice asked. You laughed and rolled out of bed to dart to the bathroom as Crowley distracted his daughter from noticing her naked mother dashing across the room. It only took a moment of convincing before Crowley got Candice to go get her new birthday dress on before he dipped into the bathroom behind you.

"We need to stop falling asleep naked no matter how good the sex is." You said as you tossed him his robe and he shrugged it on and stood behind you. He snaked his arms around your waist and untied your robe as he hummed.

"Honestly, I prefer this view." He cooed as he rested his head on your shoulder and held your robe open. You rolled your eyes and began to brush your teeth as his eyes wondered up and down your body.

"Take a picture; it'll last longer." You teased through a mouthful of toothpaste and his eyes found yours in the mirror.

"Why would I need a picture when I have the real thing?" He asked as he closed your robe for you and kissed your neck. You laughed and leaned your head against his.

"You're such a sap, baby." You teased and he bit you lightly before standing up.

"My apologies my Queen. I'll tone down the snappiness." He teased as he walked past and spanked you; causing you to squeal and spit toothpaste on your mirror.

"Oooo! Look what you did!" You taunted and he rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Not my fault." He said as he walked out to the room to get ready for the day. You sighed and rinsed you mouth out before following after him to find something Christmas-y for your first dysfunctional family holiday. 

----------- 

"Are you sure you're ok with this darling?" Crowley asked as you finished packing presents in different bags; some to be taken to the bunker and others to be left at home for later for ‘Santa’ and you shrugged.

"What am I gunna do, say no? I mean... kinda put my own foot in my mouth in this situation. I'm doing this out of a courtesy over a real 'want' at this point." You shrugged and stood up. "Personally, I don't care if we spend time with them. Is it weird because I don't know them all that well? Yea, but that can change over time. Would I prefer not to... you know... share? Absolutely but again, that comes back on me. So to answer your question, yes and no but it is what it is and I will get used to it once I get to know them a little better." 

"Trust me, darling, I wish we didn't have to either. Bear in mind we can change the terms if you need to..." You shook your head and grabbed the bags of birthday and Christmas presents that were going to the bunker.

"I couldn't do that now. I may not like it but I couldn't do that kind of damage to someone. I mean there is torture and then there is TORTURE and I just couldn't do that to them. I just couldn't." You said as you put the bag of stuff from ‘Santa’ on the side of your bed so Crowley could pop home while you were at the park to put them under the tree. He sighed and grabbed the other bag and headed out of the bedroom to find Candice.

“It is a lot more fun than you would expect it to be, darling.” He said casually over his shoulder and you shook your head.

“Yea, I leave the torturing to the demon King thanks. Candice, let’s go!” You didn’t have to wait two seconds before she came running out of her room in her red and white striped sweater dress, black leggings and black UGG boots and her candy cane striped park necklace already around her neck. You picked her up and gave her a kiss on the nose as Crowley transported you to the park by the bunker. The boys were already there waiting and the moment she saw her uncles, she shoved herself out of your arms and ran over to them to announce that it was her birthday.

“I think we may spoil her a bit.” Crowley said as the two of you walked over to Sam and Dean to say hello before Crowley took the gifts to the bunker quickly.

“Did you get any good presents from Santa?” Sam asked as he crouched down in front of your daughter. She laughed and shook her head.

“No silly! Santa has to go to Hell at NIGHTTIME on Christmas cause the chimney is too long. THAT’s why I celebrate my birfday in the MORNING.” She told him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You and Dean both laughed as Sam’s eyebrows shot to his hairline and he nodded; fighting to hold in his laughter. He recovered quickly and his eyebrows furrowed in the middle. 

“Well, now I will have to add that to my research notes!” He told her as he tickled her sides. She squirmed away and dashed toward the playground with Sam and Dean right behind her and you smiled.

“I’m going to drop these off at the bunker, love.” Crowley told you. You looked over at him with a smile and gave him a chaste kiss.

“I love you.” He smiled and took a step toward you; pressing his chest against yours.

“Not as much as I love you, kitten.” He gave you another chaste kiss to silence any protests and disappeared before you could say anything else. You chuckled and turned toward the playground to try to get to know the Winchester brothers. You made it only two steps before two men in black suits appeared out of nowhere just off to the right of the playground. Panic flooded your body as the men stalked toward your daughter and the brothers but as soon as you tried to run, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and lifted you off the ground.

“Sam!” You screeched as you yanked at the arms that were wrapped around your torso as best as you could. You watched Sam spin around just before he was thrown to the left side of the play area and Dean was thrown in the opposite direction. The sounds of your daughters panicked screams of your name ripped through your soul and you fought even harder to get to her when a saving grace idea came to you. 

“Candice, your necklace; break the necklace like daddy taught you, baby!” You screamed only seconds before the man’s hand clamped over your mouth. Your daughter hesitated for a moment as she ducked under a slide to hide. She ripped the necklace off her neck with shaky hands, pulled the draw string open and dumped the contents out onto the mulch in front of her. Your heart lurched as the man that attacked Sam reached out to grab your precious baby girl and you screamed against the hand over your mouth. His fingers were only inches from your daughter’s arms when he suddenly froze and the man tossed you away from him in the same instant. You fell to the ground on your hands and knees and scrambled to your feet as the absolutely livid King of Hell leaned against the slide Candice was hiding under.

“Go ahead. I dare you to pick up my little girl.” He growled at the man who quickly pulled his hand back.

“My King… I didn’t… We thought… the Winchesters…” Crowley simply pinched his fingers together to silence the man before he threw him against a metal pole and it crushed with the impact. 

“I don’t want to hear your bloody bullshit that is my child!” He roared as he stepped in between the demon and Candice. With a snap of his fingers, blood began to slowly trickle from the man’s eyes, ears nose and mouth. His face contorted into a look of pure agony and he let out a silenced scream. “Come here, baby girl.” Crowley soothed as he turned and reached for his daughter under the slide. She scrambled as fast as she could into his arms as sobs wracked her little body. He held her to him and held her face to his neck so she wouldn’t see the demon being tortured on the playground. He tried to sooth her as he walked the short distance between himself and you and passed her off to you while looking at the brothers. 

“Boys, take them back. I have some morons to deal with.” You felt a hand fall softly on your lower back and even though you knew you were safe, you still jumped. You turned and looked at Sam’s slightly bloodied face. He smiled weakly and led you back to their Impala as Crowley snapped the other two demons to the middle of the play area. Once you were in the car and Dean had turned it over, the sounds of horrendous screams pierced the air and Dean turned the car’s radio on so Candice wouldn’t hear them. 

You held your hysterical daughter as close as you possibly could as the two of you sat in the back seat, curled into each other as if your lives depended on it. You did your best to reassure your little girl that she was safe now and that daddy would take care of it but your voice shook with your own fear and you knew you probably didn’t sound convincing. Neither Winchester said a word until they got back to the bunker. Even at that point they were too shaken up at the idea of losing Candice they were only able to ask if you wanted to lay her down. They gestured you too one of the many bedrooms the bunker and you gave Dean a weak smile and a mouthed ‘thank you’ as he shut the door. The two MacLeod girls lay on the bed, holding each other close and cried themselves to sleep.

Part 10

[katie-dub]

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year: My Festive Nemesis

“We both bumped into each other under some mistletoe and kissed but it turns out you’re the kid from third grade who would tie my shoelaces together and I still hate you for that”

Last year I wrote The Perfect Gift based on a mash up of Christmas is going terribly prompts and the lovely @kmomof4 begged me to write more of the prompts. I managed The Best Wrapper in the West and started this fic, but I didn’t finish it. So, just one year late, here it is Krystal!

AO3

Day 1 |  Day 2 |  Day 3 |  Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

My Festive Nemesis

Emma had been at the Nolans’ Winter Wonderland party for an hour and a half when she spots him. A man so handsome he takes her breath away. (Although if questioned, she would blame the chocolate and cinnamon cocktail shots.) And as luck would have it, he was waiting under the mistletoe, with lips that were just begging to be kissed.

Normally she'd be deeply distrustful of anyone loitering under that fucking kiss trap, but honestly she was surprised she'd noticed it herself in amongst the wintery decor. Mary Margaret's decorations actually made Buddy the Elf’s seem tastefully understated and the whole room looked like a children's Christmas craft session gone horribly wrong. So yes, trawling for mistletoe kisses was usually a total turn off, tonight though, she saw nothing but opportunity.

She just had to get to him before anyone else did. She'd already spotted a potential threat at six o’clock, a petite blonde sending very appreciative looks at her target. She had to take action.

She locked eyes with him and noticed there was something strangely familiar about them. She dismissed the thought when she saw to her delight that he licked his lips at the sight of her. Emboldened, she marched right up to him, grabbed his lapels and dragged his lips down to hers.

She heard a little noise of surprise coming from him, but it didn't stop him from responding very enthusiastically.

She kissed him long and hard, at first determined to mark him as hers, but soon all conscious thoughts had melted from her mind. There was only this man and what he could do with his lips and his tongue.

When the need for air became too much, Emma reluctantly broke away from him. Although she stayed close, nuzzling her nose against his and opening her eyes just enough to note how overcome he was by her kiss.

“That was -” he panted, voice filled with awe.

“Traditional.”

He pulled back properly at that, clearly utterly bewildered. He quirked his head on one side, studying her face in confusion.

“I'm afraid I don't follow, love. It's your tradition to pounce on unsuspecting men?”

Emma giggled and pointed up at the mistletoe. She knew she was right about him. He followed the line of her finger then groaned when he finally saw it.

“Bloody hell.” He ran his hand through his hair, “how bloody sad and desperate must I have looked? I swear I didn't know it was there.”

“Oh I don't know, I saw at least one other girl eyeing you up. Really that kiss was a rescue mission, you never know who might’ve kissed you.”

“My saviour,” he murmured into her ear. His voice caused her heart to flutter. “Might I show my gratitude Miss -?”

He had paused expectantly, Emma suddenly realised he was reaching for her name.

“Swan. Emma. I'm Emma Swan.” she supplied, a little breathless from his close proximity.

He moved back, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, “Emma Swan?!”

“Er… yeah?” Emma suddenly felt incredibly awkward. This man whose eyes had been full of sin and desire were now filled with what looked suspiciously like recognition and delight.

“I'm Killian,” he laughed, “Killian Jones, from third grade. Remember me?”

Emma's eyes flashed indignantly, “you!” she hissed. She shoved him hard. “You were my nemesis!”

To her dismay he threw his head back and laughed at her. She shoved him again, irritated by his response.

“I realise I was a little unkind Swan, but I think that's needlessly melodramatic.”

“You tied my shoelaces together on my first day of school! It was bad enough that the teacher picked on me to “tell everyone about yourself”, but thanks to you I fell on my face and broke my nose! I had black eyes for weeks!”

He looked uncomfortable and scratched behind his ear sheepishly. “Aye. 8 year old me hadn't quite learned how to talk to girls he fancied.” Her eyes widened in shock, “Luckily for you that's all changed and I still quite fancy you, when you're not yelling at me, that is. You must allow me to make the proper reparations.” He leant down to kiss her again. She nearly fell for it, but snapped out of it at the last second and shoved him hard.

“Your lips are never touching mine again, buddy. You made 8 year old Emma’s life miserable and I owe it to her to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

He chuckled, “8 year old Emma has grown into a woman with quite the foul mouth on her. 28 year old Emma can surely find a better use for her lips than swearing at me?”

He raised an eyebrow, and tapped his lips with one finger in a silent challenge.

“Please,” she sneered, “you couldn't handle it.” Before he could reply she pushed past him in search of hard liquor.

***

“So you and Killian, eh?” Mary Margaret said brightly as she returned from delivering yet another frightened four year old to Santa. Emma gritted her teeth, trust Mary Margaret to wait until she couldn't speak freely to launch her attack.

“Nope.”

“What?” Mary Margaret’s voice is sickly sweet and her eyes comically wide. She practically looked like Snow White, a picture of pure innocence. Emma wasn't fooled, her friend was a devious bandit on a mission to destroy Emma's love life. (And she'd probably think she was “saving” it, disregarding Emma's complete lack of interest in dating, in her quest to find Emma's Happy Ending™.)

“This is not the time to have this conversation and you know it.” Emma spoke quietly with a grin fixed on her face. She nodded towards the queue of children waiting patiently to see Santa Claus and raising her eyebrows pointedly. “There are tiny humans here who do not need to know about Santa's elves’ extra curricular activities. They think all we do is make gifts and bake gingerbread.”

Emma's cheeks were hurting from the forced grin she had plastered across her face.

“It's just that last time I saw you at my party you were… cuddling… very intently, but I didn't see you after that. Did you take him home to show him your baubles?”

Emma gasped a little and furtively glanced at the next in line. It was a little girl, happily babbling about meeting Santa and a slightly bored looking older boy. It looked like they were with a dark haired man, but it was hard to tell as they were crouched down and mostly obscured by the pair. Luckily whoever they were, they seemed too engrossed by the girl’s chatter to notice their conversation.

“Stop this. Right now.”

“Did you jingle his bells? Perhaps he came down your chimney?”

“Mary Margaret!” she hissed. “Yes, we ... cuddled, but when we realised that we went to school together -”

“Oh! And you found each other after all this time! How romantic!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Trust you to look at it like that. He was my nemesis.” It was Mary Margaret's turn to roll her eyes.

“Your nemesis? This sounds like an excuse to shut out a handsome m...elf who looks like he knows exactly what to do with a nice pair of baubles.”

“He also gave me two black eyes on my first day at my new school. Hardly perfect elf material.”

Mary Margaret gasped, and Emma couldn't help but feel a bit smug.

“Explain.”

“Shoelaces were tied, there was a face floor interface, and questions were raised about my foster parents for weeks after.”

Emma was irritated to see Mary Margaret breathe a sigh of relief.

“So it was an accident.”

Emma narrowed her eyes, “whose side are you on?”

“I'm not saying he did a good thing, but he didn't mean to hurt you, did he?”

“He meant to trip me up.” Mary Margaret looked entirely unperturbed.

“And how old were you when he committed this heinous crime?”

“8.”

Mary Margaret fixed Emma with her disappointed teacher expression. “Oh Emma,” she shook her head sadly, “that wall of yours...it may keep out pain but it may also keep out love.”

Trust her friend to try to turn this into a “teaching moment”, Emma’s temper flared. “Killian Jones is not my love, I am not going to suck his candy cane and he is not going to make me see twinkly lights when I ride his sleigh.”

“Oh really, Swan? I can guarantee I'd make it good for you.”

Emma's eyes closed in horror, and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She forced her Happy Santa’s Helper Elf smile onto her face then slowly let her breath out through gritted teeth as she turned to face her nemesis.

Of course he was the man there with the next two kids in line. She'd been so busy disparaging Mary Margaret that she hadn't noticed that he'd shuffled close enough to hear them.

She should be embarrassed. She should. But all she felt was incandescent rage. How dare he kiss her like that when he’s got kids and probably a wife at home. This was so much worse than the shoelaces.

“How dare you?” she seethed. His cocky grin slipped a little at her poisonous tone.

“How about I take you two through to see Santa?” Mary Margaret's voice was full of enthusiasm as she directed Killian's kids attention away from the scene unfolding. She lead the two kids away sending a sympathetic look Killian's way that enraged Emma all the more.

“I'm not sure I follow love, but if you were to enjoy me as a festive treat I'd return the favour tenfold.”

“And how would your wife feel about you propositioning an elf?” Killian was outright frowning now, busted, thought Emma feeling utterly vindicated.

“My… wife?” he spoke slowly, his eyes full of confusion.

“The mother of your children?” Emma prompted and the man had the audacity to grin at her. “I can't believe you kissed me the other night! Just because you're missing your -”

“Let me stop you before you say something truly offensive, love,” Killian spoke darkly, nearly spitting out the nickname. “You kissed me. I was merely an innocent bystander stood in an unintentionally festive spot. And even if I had been loitering below the mistletoe intent on seducing gullible princesses, I would be well within my rights. I am single. Those two lovely children are my brother's and if you'll excuse me -”

A muffled yelp from within Santa’s Grotto cut Killian off, followed by a shout of “Oh shi-iny baubles!” Emma stifled a giggle, trust David to come up with a swearing alternative suitable for Santa.

Mary Margaret popped her head out of the grotto and called out in an urgent stage whisper, “Emma, Killian, SOS, save our Santa!”

They rushed in after her and saw David pinned to the floor by Killian's nephew. The boy had a triumphant, crazed gleam in his eye. He was waving David’s false beard in the air like a trophy. And all the while he crowed in delight, “Santa’s a fake! Santa’s a fake!” Killian's niece was stood in the corner wailing.

Emma looked on in horror, ever more convinced that Killian really was her nemesis. His latest mission? To destroy Christmas. These “relations” of his were clearly in fact his agents of doom.

He's the fucking Anti-Santa! The thought had just come to her mind, when Killian let out an ear-splitting whistle. The children immediately fell silent.

“Aiden Jones you unhand Father Christmas this minute,” Killian commanded. His forceful tone sent a shiver down Emma's spine, followed quickly after by a wave of irritation at her treacherous body.

“But Uncle Killian! That man is telling lies, daddy says it's naughty to tell lies!” The boy whined, before dropping his voice to say urgently, “he is an imposter!”

Emma could have laughed at the entirely sincere expression on Aiden’s face.

Killian sighed and lifted his nephew off David. He crouched down beside the boy.

“What else is naughty Aiden?” There was a mumble from the shame-faced boy. “I can't hear you, Aiden.”

“It's naughty to be mean to people.”

“Aye, and wouldn't you say wrestling Santa to the ground, sitting on him, stealing his beard and shouting at him was mean?”

More mumbling.

“Aiden…” Killian said warningly.

“Yes Uncle Killian.” Aiden turned to David Claus, “I'm sorry Mr Not Santa, I didn't mean to be naughty.”

“Very good, your father is going to hear about this though.” Aiden stuck his bottom lip out, but otherwise stayed silent. His mischievous nephew dealt with, Killian turned to his niece. “Anya?” the girl immediately ran to her uncle's arms. “It's true that this man isn't the original Santa Claus, he's very busy making your presents right now. He is however, a special Agent of Santa -” Emma snorted a little at the creative explanation of the multiple Santas, Killian shot a dark look her way.

Anya peered at her curiously. “Really, Elf lady?”

Emma knelt down next to her, nodding solemnly. “Oh, absolutely. We help Santa to find out what all the children want - and to distribute presents. But let’s keep that secret between us, it’ll make you a special Agent of Santa too.”

Anya beamed at Emma in wonder, nodding and Emma felt all warm inside. Just because the girl had a tool for an uncle, didn’t mean she shouldn’t get to enjoy the magic of Christmas. “Did you get chance to tell Santa’s agent what you want for Christmas?” Anya shook her head. “Come along then.”

She stood up and held out her hand to Anya, who wriggled free of Killian’s grasp and ran to Emma. David had managed to settle back in his Santa chair, false beard back in place, with a little help from Mary Margaret. Emma led the girl over to David, who instantly scooped her up without the slightest hint that mere moments before he had been attacked by a tiny demon.

“What’s your name, little one?” David launched into the Santa spiel at once and Anya’s little eyes gleamed with unsuppressed delight. Emma felt gooey inside. This was why she did the whole “Santa’s elf” thing. Yes, she could be kind of a grinch, but seeing little kids full of joy made her grinchy heart grow several sizes each and every time she saw it.

She looked up and caught Killian looking at her, wearing his own expression of delight. Emma smiled back, before remembering herself and frowning at him. Her heart shrank back down to its previous size.

So maybe she had been wrong about the married thing. Perhaps it was vaguely adorable that he was taking care of his niece and nephew. And it was possible that there was something about the way he took charge of the situation with a firm hand that made her wonder how he might take charge in other, less family friendly situations … But, still, he definitely broke her nose as a child. If she trusted him now, what else might he break?

***

“Si-i-lent night, ho-o-ly niiight!”

God, Emma wished it was a silent fucking night. Whoever invented the concept of door to door carolling deserved to be stabbed to death with sharpened candy canes.

It’s not that the carollers were exactly bad they just weren’t exactly singing in sync, and at least one of them didn’t seem to exactly know the words. Maybe if she just stayed quiet they would go away?

When they launched into their very enthusiastic version of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”, Emma realised that that wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t want to throw open the door and tell them to piss off, but equally she really wanted them to leave. She was struck by a devious idea, she could sneak out the back and throw snowballs at them from the cover of the bushes around the front. That should send a nice clear message of “fuck off”, while allowing her to maintain anonymity.

She pulled on her outdoor gear and crept out the back door, scooping up snow as she went. She hesitated when she spotted that the group was comprised of two kids and a man, but figured that as long as she only hit the adult that was ok.

She got her first snowball ready, took aim for the back of the man’s head, and let it fly. He turned at the exact moment the snow left her hand. It was Killian Jones.

Of course it was fucking Killian and of course he had caught her red handed.

His eyes widened in shock and he ducked his head - but not fast enough to avoid it and it hit him smack in the nose. She was torn between a feeling of horror and gleeful victory. Finally she had had her revenge.

The feeling was very short lived when she heard him cry out “bloody hell!” His hand flew to his nose, but not before she saw the blood pouring from it. Oh fuck.

She scrambled out of the bushes to help him. The kids were Killian’s adorable niece and monstrous nephew. True to form the niece had burst into tears at the sight of her bleeding uncle, while the nephew had said “cool” with an appreciative nod.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing Killian’s hand away from his face and wincing at the bloody mess she’d made of his face. “Come with us kids,” she added as an afterthought to the little ones. She pulled him inside, and ran to get a face cloth and ice.

It took far longer than it should have to get Killian cleaned up. Not only did she have him to deal with, but also a distraught little girl and a curious demon. She only got them to settle down and let her help uncle Killian by pulling out her stash of snickerdoodles. It was a wrench to give them up, but she might be able to persuade Mary Margaret to make more for her, and this was a genuine emergency.

The kids were merrily drawing when Killian was finally good to go.

“Are we even now?” Killian murmured quietly, “I’m quite impressed by your dedication to the pursuit of your revenge.”

“I didn’t realise that it was you.”

He raised his brows in surprise. “You would have treated anyone coming to your door to spread a little festive cheer in such a manner? I think you may need to have your elf licence revoked!”

Emma reached around for an appropriately witty comeback, but none came to mind. “Yeah, probably. I’m sorry for that.”

“Now you know how bad I felt.”

Killian’s comment made absolutely no sense to her. “When?”

“When you hurt yourself because of me? I really didn’t think tying your shoelaces together would be that bad, and Will had dared me to do it and …”

Emma smiled and shook her head. “It’s ok, I should probably get over it, it was 20 years ago after all.”

“My brother punched me for it when he found out too, said that it’s not ‘good form’ to wound a lady.”

Emma laughed. “I like the sound of this brother of yours.”

“He’s a great guy, never lets me get away with anything, much like you.”

“Can we go yet, Uncle Killian?” whined Aiden, Emma jumped, she had entirely forgotten that the kids were there. “I don’t want to watch you kissing your girlfriend.” Emma blushed a deep red, as did Killian.

“Oh, Miss Swan is not my girlfriend -”

“She should be!” chimed in Anya. “She’s very pretty.” She turned to Emma, nodding at her approvingly. “You’re very pretty, and Uncle Killian fancies you, and that’s why he makes gooey eyes at you.” Anya stage whispered the rest in a way that presumably was very subtle to her childish mind. “That’s what he does when he fancies someone.”

Killian had leapt to his feet and dragged the kids out of their chairs. “All ready to go? Good good,” he exclaimed bustling the kids to the door. “Goodbye, Swan”

And before Emma could respond to anything that had just happened, they were gone.

***

Emma found herself thinking about Killian a lot over the next few days.

She thought about the way he had blushed at the accusation that he fancied her. She thought about how good it had felt to kiss him. She thought about his promise to return the favour tenfold if she were to suck on his candy cane. She couldn’t help but wonder what that might entail.

She was still thinking about him as she decorated her house for Christmas, wondering whether he would like the way she decorated. Not that it mattered. She was decorating everything just for herself. For the first time ever she was going to put up lights outside. She loved the twinkly lights and didn’t she deserve a little holiday magic in her life?

She was up a ladder, concentrating hard on attaching the damn things to her house when she heard a voice behind her. “Need a hand, love?”

She might have been pleased at his appearance, if it hadn’t startled her so much that her ladder wobbled and she toppled from it, pulling the lights down with her.

She found herself in Killian’s arms. He had caught her, like some kind of Disney prince, and man if that didn’t make him hotter. His eyes flitted over her in alarm. It was kind of nice to have someone show that much concern for her. “Are you ok, love? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice came out all breathy, she felt like a starry-eyed maiden in a romance novel. She needed to stop this right now. “The lights probably aren’t though. Could … could you put me down so I can check them?”

“Oh! Of course!” Killian blushed and carefully placed her down.

She looked at the lights and was dismayed to see that she had indeed pulled down every last one. She sighed deeply and decided to just pack them away again when Killian spoke up. “Can I help you put the lights up again?” She looked up in shock and saw him stood there, nervously scratching behind his ear.

“You don’t have to,” she dismissed the suggestion, looking back down at her fallen decorations and reaching a hand out for them.

He covered her hand with his, and she looked back up to see that he was much closer than before, their faces were practically touching. He looked her dead in the eye. “No, but I want to.”

She gulped a little and pulled her hand back. “Sure,” she said with a breeziness that she didn’t feel.

With Killian holding her tightly against the ladder and directing her, Emma was able to get all the lights hung in no time. She flicked the switch and squealed with delight when they came on.

“Thank you, Killian!” she beamed at him.

He beamed back and shrugged a little bashfully, but then she saw something turn in his gaze. In a moment he switched from adorable to seductive. No, not seductive, that was just wishful thinking.

He swayed closer to her. “Perhaps a little gratitude is in order?” he asked, tapping at his lips suggestively. Maybe it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

“Please, you couldn’t handle it.” She smirked at him, enjoying the anticipation of their flirting.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

It was an outright challenge and one that she was more than happy to accept. She pounced on him, kissing him hard. For a moment he rocked back startled, but he quickly caught up and grabbed her close to him. She lost all track of time in the perfection of this kiss, she never wanted it to end. Eventually though she needed to breathe and broke apart from him, still holding him close to her.

“Want to come inside and check out my baubles?” she asked with a wink.

He grinned in reply. “That depends, Swan, have you been a good girl this year?”

“Oh no, I’m definitely on the naughty list.”

“Well perhaps we need to see what we can do to get you off.”

“... it,” Emma finished with a smirk.

“I know what I said.” He kissed her neck and murmured straight into her ear, “and I absolutely meant it. Now let’s get inside.”

Emma giggled and dragged him inside her house where she let him make amends for his youthful crimes quite thoroughly. Several times. Well, she did love a good redemption story.

[auburnfamilynews]

Happy Halloween.

Oh boy, I hope by the time you’re reading this, you’re figuring out the proper ratio of candy to take from your kids as a parent tax (never too early to educate our young ones on the way tax brackets work) before sugaring yourself up with some dark liquor in preparation for what you’ll see today.

First of all, it’s going to be one of those crisp fall afternoons you write about. It’s Halloween. There’s a full moon tonight, and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll have that extra hour of sweet glorious sleep as we head into November. Here’s hoping that you get to dream of an Auburn win instead of having Halloween nightmares of yet another gut-wrenching loss to LSU.

However, this is a happy place. We think happy thoughts here, and especially during 2020, the year that doesn’t matter. LSU’s already faced their share of misery. They had one of the most lightning strike teams last season, and in their first game as defending champs, they got chumped by Mike Leach. The guy couldn’t handle Portland State in his openers at his previous stop, and he clowned LSU.

Auburn has had a rough time this season also. I think we played Georgia, but honestly that game is clouded now in a haze of bourbon hatred so I don’t technically remember what happened. There was a game against South Carolina too, but... well, yeah. Those happened. In between, everyone wants to talk about “Y’ALL. BARN CHEATIN’ AND THEY SHOULD BE A 1-4 TEAM. OR 0-5. KENTUCKY HAD MORE YARDS THAN THEM SO THEY’S BETTER THAN AUBURN AND BARNERHAM IS GIVING AUBURN THE WINS.”

Instead of thinking about the ways that Auburn’s cheating the system and skating by, pissing off SEC West fans of teams that we haven’t even played yet, we should be looking at what the Tigers are doing well.

After the last couple of years of Boobee Whitlow (who was a serviceable running back, but not the type of guy we’re accustomed to here), let me tell you, it’s been a delight to watch Tank Bigsby run the ball. He’s the real deal, and if you don’t think so, just look at my RealDeal face.

I’m Josh Lyman in this situation, and you’re Sam Seaborn. I saw the real thing. Tank is the best pure running back that I think we’ve had since Cadillac. He runs hard, breaks tackles, racks up yardage, and can do everything. We’ve leaned into the idea of getting your best player the ball and it’s worked with him.

Meanwhile, the fight between Bo Nix and Seth Williams in Columbia turned into daps and hugs, mean mugs and shoulder shrugs as the connection went for 8 completions, 150 yards, and the game-winning 58 yard score. Auburn’s pass protection helped a little, and improved some, but there are still holes. In terms of the run game, it continued to soar, and Auburn is now one of the best rushing teams in the SEC.

Unfortunately, Auburn’s offensive line, which had started to turn into one unit instead of five individual ones, lost one of the most experienced and reliable members when Brandon Council went down with a season-ending injury in Oxford. Keiondre Jones, who’s a thicc boy, steps in at right guard, but this is not the team you want to have to play when you’re working in a new guy.

For LSU, they’re probably going to be playing 6’6, 242-pound TJ Finley, who was great last week in his debut as a starter. He’s still got a ton of weapons, and he got the benefit of playing at home against a South Carolina team that may have been experiencing a bit of a hangover after their win against us. Hopefully he comes back to earth and a road atmosphere turns ugly. In both of LSU losses, it’s been the pass defense faltering, and allowing, oh... 1,029 YARDS IN TWO GAMES. If ever there was a game when both phases of Auburn’s offense wanted to work, it would be this game. Bo Nix at home should be a good bit better than Bo Nix on the road, but LSU has 14 sacks in those four games on defense, and average about eight tackles for loss per game overall. Gus Malzahn and Chad Morris have to figure out a way to hit this defense at the right time. It’ll be tricky.

Plus, we’re dealing with the weight of extreme voodoo here, and not just on LSU’s side. This rivalry’s ratio of bizarre outcomes is higher than just about any matchup in the country. Here we have an Auburn team trying to avenge three straight close and crushing losses in the series, and trying to do it in a year like this, on Halloween, with a full moon.

It’s safe to say that if you have an expectation of how this is going to turn out, you probably need to throw a bunch of gasoline on that expectation and light it on fire. There’s no way this turns out to be a run-of-the-mill football game. Never is.

SERIES HISTORY: LSU leads the all-time series 31-22-1, and they’ve won three straight in the rivalry. Auburn’s last win came in 2016 in Les Miles’ final game as head coach at LSU.

LAST MEETING: Last season’s game in Baton Rouge turned out to be the closest game that LSU played all season, as they won 23-20. Auburn led until the final five minutes of the third quarter when Clyde Edwards-Helaire scored the go-ahead touchdown.

LAST WEEK: Auburn took care of business against Ole Miss with a 35-28 win, where Tank Bigsby accounted for 129 rushing yards and a pair of touchdowns, while Seth Williams scored the game-winning touchdown as a part of his 150 receiving yards.

LSU had their most impressive performance of the season with a 52-24 win against South Carolina. TJ Finley got the start for the injured Myles Brennan, and threw for 265 yards and. a pair of touchdowns on 17-21 passing. Tyrion Davis-Prince ran for 135 yards and a score, while Terrace Marshall caught another two touchdowns, bringing his season total up to nine.

KEYS FOR AUBURN:

Continue to find the offensive balance. This could fall under sub-category “continue to run the ball well” because it’s the Jed Bartlett Silver Bullet to making nearly everything else right on this football team. It opens up the passing game. It allows our defense to rest. It wears down the opposition. Plus, it means we get to watch Tank Bigsby tote the rock. Even so, when Auburn has been at its best this year, it’s when the offense has been keeping balanced and keeping defenses off balance. Last week was a great example. The Tigers were amazingly balanced last week with 224 rushing yards and 238 passing yards, and even though it’s Ole Miss, Bo Nix was much cleaner. LSU’s defense isn’t great either, but their pass rush is the strength, so the run game will need to contiue to bear the brunt of Auburn’s load today.

Make the freshman quarterback a freshman quarterback. No, this TJ Finley cat ain’t Tim Tebow, or Tua, or Johnny Football, or any of the other fantastic freshman quarterbacks that have come through the SEC lately. He’s still 6’6, 242, and showed out last weekend against South Carolina. What turns out to be much different is playing in one of the more friendly home atmospheres and then turning around going into Jordan-Hare Stadium. Without the full capacity crowd, Auburn’s advantage here won’t be as pronounced, but it’s still an unfamiliar stadium for a young kid. When you consider what Kevin Steele’s been able to do against some of the best offenses in college football, and particularly last season against LSU, I have faith that he’ll pull something out to help rattle a freshman. Throw him some stunts, some extra blitzes, some exotic coverage, and let him figure it out.

Make the clutch play. Wow, looking at Auburn’s last three losses to LSU you can easily pinpoint the moments that changed the game and gave LSU a little momentum. In 2017 it was the fourth down touchdown and the diving touchdown catch from Russell Gage right before the half. Then the D.J. Chark punt return score in the second half flipped the game around. One year later, it was again a long play that just barely worked. Joe Burrow hit Derrick Dillon on a 71-yard strike that just barely went over the outstretched hands of an Auburn defender. Then, on the game-winning drive, Burrow calmly stepped up and completed a fourth down slant pass to extend the drive that led to the walk-off field goal. And last year, it turned out to be the LSU defense making big plays like the Derek Stingley interception right before halftime that prevented Auburn from retaking the lead. This year, Auburn has to be the side jumping on the loose ball, grabbing that interception, and winning the big play ratio. LSU’s big plays have killed Auburn over the last three years, so now it’s Auburn’s turn.

STRESS-O-METER:

Anytime LSU comes to town —

from College and Magnolia - All Posts https://www.collegeandmagnolia.com/2020/10/31/21542872/game-preview-and-open-thread-auburn-vs-lsu

[gramgoessurfing]

Thoughts of a redhead in the ocean

I’ve decided to write about another trip because I had enough thoughts to fill up more space than a few tweets, I hope. This is about a 5 day surf trip I took down California in my 2010 white Toyota Camry, which isn’t exactly what a 25 year old boy dreams his surf car will look like. After shaming my family for retroactively making the wrong decision at the car dealership when I was in my junior year of high school for only this moment, I filled up my tank of gas and played tetris with my 5′9 surfboard until it fit diagonally inside my car. It wasn’t a good look. I avoided eye contact with all other drivers for the full duration of all red lights I encountered. If you read my last 2 blogs about my trip to Europe and Africa, you may have noticed the subjects of my blog are becoming less exciting and adventurous, both in activities and geographical distance from homebase. I’ve decided my next and last blog will be 2000 words about the uncharted territory of my studio apartment.

The way I planned this trip is that I didn’t. I had no idea what beach I was going to until the morning of each day, nor did I care as long as there were waves and sunscreen. I did not tell my mom about this strategy because she would have felt that she failed as a mother as to how I planned this trip and would have either spent years in therapy or bulk ordered those awful York peppermint candies she likes (again) to suppress her feelings, to which I don’t know what’s worse. I then proceeded to buy a book that’s above my reading level and took off.

My first stop was Santa Cruz, which is also my favorite town. You know you’re in Santa Cruz when you see most people longboarding their dogs barefoot down the sidewalk. There’s an appropriately named break called pleasure point where I like to go and surf until I either cant feel my arms anymore from paddling or I see the ugliest creature both in or out of the water that seems to linger around the area, the elephant seal. God made this animal to raise the self esteem of humans.

I started this trip on a Monday and hopped in the water around 2 pm. People who surf at 2 pm on a Monday are different than people who surf on a weekend. On a weekend, you look around when you’re out there and it seems obvious that the majority of people are just those with regular jobs trying to harness enough fun to get through the next workweek without an ‘incident’. Monday at 2 pm is different. There’s a different vibe. Time tends to slow down and there’s less clutter and you look around at the diversity of water lovers sitting atop a board waiting for the next set to come in and project what went so right (or wrong) in their lives that they are in the ocean at such a time. You can tell there are people out at that time who need to be; you can feel their pent-up energy likely from the aftermath of some type of job stress or gambling addiction crisis and they’re here because if they’re here they’re not causing domestic violence at home. Then there are the people on the other end of the spectrum, those who are either unemployed (like me) or retired and are searching for the high from the waves that inevitably comes with pleasure point at high tide.

My friends have told me when they’re in the ocean surfing or swimming their problems tend to go away. They’re not thinking about their job or what errands they have to run or that their girlfriend is mad at them for not waiting to watch the most recent episode of Ozark together. I don’t know if thats true for me. Yes, my problems that I usually worry about go away, but new problems replace them. Now I’m just on the constant lookout for any abnormal movement in the water to locate whatever seal or shark smells the blood of the small cut on my thumb from biting my nails during the most recent NBA playoff game, or worrying if my pale redhead self is going to need chemo sooner than later because I just wanted to catch 1 more wave while the sun gives me freckles that I didn’t ask for. Also, judging by the way wells fargo keeps bothering me about how I don’t have enough money in my savings account, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of their recently hired tellers put on a wetsuit and found me in the ocean to tell me the way I’ve been using my credit card lately doesn't match up with my ‘financial roadmap’.

Pismo Beach: This was the climax of the trip, and sorry for using such a word but I didn’t like any of the other options that  http://www.thesaurus.com/browse/synonym offered me so this is what I’m going with. Climax. I’m not sure what I did to deserve what happened this day. I don’t think I’m a big believer in karma but I was looking back at what I could have possibly done that morning to grant me such luck. Maybe it was the cadence in which I ordered my tall iced Americano at starbucks or the fact that I complimented my air bnb host on the layout of her bathroom before I left only to get a response that guests weren’t allowed in that bathroom. Whatever it was, I was in heaven for 90 minutes at Pismo pier and caught so many 6 foot lefts I would have still been smiling if someone threw a boba tea at me later that evening. When trying to park at the beach I took a wrong turn and approached a parking attendant who told me I needed to turn around to previous parking lot or I could spend 4 dollars to park on the beach. I laughed right in her face thinking she was making a joke only upon realizing moments later when I walked to the beach with my board that there were, in fact, cars parked on the beach. Strange place SLO is.

I need to take a quick break and dedicate a section to the things nobody wants to talk about: getting into a cold/wet wetsuit. There’s two type of people in this world: those who know what this feels like and those who don’t. Those who know have a certain look in their eyes and there needs to be more advocacy to address the victims. If you’re one of the lucky few who has no idea what I’m talking about, I’ll guide you through the experience. This is the part of this blog where I wish I recorded an audiobook, but bear with me: There’s a few ways you get stuck in this situation. Either you surfed recently and left your wetsuit in your trunk due to laziness or you surfed recently and left your wetsuit in your trunk due to stupidity. Whatever avenue led you to this point, there’s no turning back. First comes the shameful act of untangling your cold, damp suit while retracing the steps that brought you to this point. Nothing better than the 5 stages of grief perfectly describes the process. denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. All of those words have a place in this. You start to ask yourself if you even want to surf and if the 45 minutes it took you to get to the ocean could just be turned into a nice drive and back. You actually telling yourself things outloud under your breath like ‘it’s not the destination that matters but the journey’. But then you snap out of it. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the side mirror of your Camry and know you’d never be able to look at yourself again if you don’t grow a pair and put that fucking wetsuit on right now. So you do. You put one leg in at a time and pull it up your waist where it passes a particularly sensitive part of your body and then pull it up over your shoulders and by this point you realize the world isn’t a fair place and you go hop in the water.

Santa Barbara next. Gloomy, overcast, misty, Santa Barbara. I went out near a wetlands earlier in the morning on a break with small waves and the smell of methane gas surfacing up through the kelp due to the oil reserves nearby. It seemed boring compared to the day before but I always have a baseline happiness when I’m in the water regardless of what’s happening. After catching a few small waves, I peed in my wetsuit and got out of the water. Apparently somebody in Isla Vista took a break from playing snappa and decorated a concrete structure:

No matter what day or time you’re out though, there’s always that guy who thinks he either owns or has reserved the ocean for the day. I have devised a 4 step process as to how to identify who this person is and it is very easy:

1) paddle for and try to catch literally any wave

2) wait and listen for an extremely loud voice calling everyone else off the wave

3) watch the target person scream profanities/give evil eyes to anybody who was within 100 yards of him on the same wave as he paddles back out

4) watch him put his affliction t-shirt in the parking lot after he’s done surfing.

If you’re wondering, the answer is yes, this is the exact same person who tells you to stop being a bitch when you’re playing pick up basketball and calling your own fouls and call one on the guy who pushes you with 2 hands during a layup and you look back at him and he’s of course wearing a randy moss NFL jersey and what he thinks are basketball shoes but are really from the streetwear section of footlocker.

Los Angeles: After Santa Barbara I kept driving South and stopped in Ventura which I have no good content about except that its a perfect place and I would like to move there. After that I drove to spend the night in West Hollywood at an air bnb that ended up being a windowless bedroom in the back of a massage spa (healingpoint, see below). In my defense, I did not seek this out I just booked my room too fast without reading descriptions. I spent most of that night walking around in mandatory slippers and looking at different consistencies of massage oil that were for sale. I still haven’t finished unpacking the strangeness of this night, but I’m sure the effects it had on me won’t come out until later in my life, much like when your mom’s passive aggressiveness toward you as a child doesn’t manifest itself until you’re 22 and yelling at your significant other about how they got the wrong color shower curtain.