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#and the hallway light is just generally really weak so I rarely use it unless I'm going up or down the stairs
stickypostllama · 3 years
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I need to stop watching creepy videos before I go to bed
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shirokodomo · 3 years
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W H I T E ° A S S A S S I N | YAKUZA AU
Name
Hakudoshi Makai (白童子 ° 魔界)
Age
15 years old
Role
Assassin | Cleans up the mess caused by other members of the gang
Involvement
Hakudoshi belongs to Naraku's gang, started his involvement at the age of 13 (more details at Misc/Backstory). Despite his young age, he is quite meticulous and precise in his work especially when it comes to cover ups as he never leaves a trace of their gang's involvement behind.
Sometimes he is told to do some kills by himself and even then he is meticulous about it (i.e: uses a silencer if a gun is involved, clean cut in cases of pointy knives usage). Most of the time he is seen with Koga ( @greathunderhowl ) and/or Kagura ( @windbxtch ), many times he's called their personal "babysitter" due to them calling him whenever they mess up.
His name "White Assassin" comes mainly from the color of his hair.
Appearance
Hakudoshi has got rose white hair, it's long, slightly past his shoulders and scraggly most of the time. When he works, he tends to hold it in a messy bun or low ponytail.
His skin is extremely pale and his eyes are violet. These physical characteristics give Hakudoshi a false innocent appearance.
Before being "taken in" by Naraku and his gang, Hakudoshi wore quite old clothes, most of them with several tears. Afterwards he starts wearing a dark blue shirt, sometimes black, and the pants vary between dark or light colors though most of the time it is dark colors due to the blood that comes with his job.
Personality
In terms of personality, Hakudoshi retains quite a lot of his canon counterpart. He is cruel and manipulative whenever he wants, especially towards his victims, he rarely tortures them unless he has a personal beef with them.
His expression is most of the time kept blank, occasionally showing a cruel smile or a frown when he is upset.
There is only one person who has seen Hakudoshi's true caring side and that is his little brother, Akago, whom Hakudoshi does anything for. He is the main reason Hakudoshi has entered the Yakuza.
Those who know this, know also that Akago is Hakudoshi's weak point. Later in his life, the second person to know every single side of Hakudoshi is Rin, Sesshomaru’s adopted daughter.
Despite his cruel and cold demeanor in general, Hakudoshi actually cares, sometimes too much to the point he wishes he was able to shut down his heart for good.
Family
Kaori Makai (Mother, Deceased)
Shintaro Makai (Father, Deceased)
Umeko Fukuhara (Maternal Aunt; Deceased | Killed by Hakudoshi)
Akago Makai (Younger Brother)
Other Relevant Bonds
Naraku Kagewaki (Boss, the “Father” of the gang)
Kagura Kagewaki (Close friend; member of the Chaotic Triphoon)
Koga (Close friend; mentor; member of the Chaotic Triphoon)
Ren Hino (Love Interest when he was 15 yrs old; breaks his heart to pieces)
Rin (Love Interest later in his life; close friend)
Backstory
Hakudoshi was orphaned at the age of 10, his little brother was just 2 years old. The custody of the two brothers was given to their maternal aunt but Umeko had a bitter relationship with her now deceased sister and took it out on the two boys.
Still related to this, Hakudoshi has got a few scars on his back, a result of several belt lashes from his aunt, some of them happened on his attempts to shield Akago from them.
Hakudoshi doesn't trust authority figures, he sort of blames them for placing him and Akago with his aunt even though he was aware that if they had gone to an orphanage, chances were they would have been separated. That's Hakudoshi's biggest fear.
He run away from home along with Akago when they were, respectively, 12 and 4 years old. Because they are both minors, he couldn't go to hotels or even to the smaller houses as he knew in a matter of time the police would find them. Hakudoshi found a small job at a shop of an elderly couple, the money wasn't much but it was enough to buy food for him and Akago. They lived at abandoned houses and were constantly on the move for a whole year.
Hakudoshi's first contact with the Yakuza was, at the age of 13, when he crossed a dark hallway to go "home" where a few gang members were fighting among each other. Instead of finding another path, Hakudoshi walked through the middle of them, which the thugs didn't like. They tried to beat him up but he beat them instead. Koga and Kagura were watching everything from the sidelines and picked an interest in him.
Akago falls sick, nothing severe but they didn't have money to buy the necessary medicine which prompted Hakudoshi to rob a pharmacy. The plan fails and he flees so to not be caught. Under Koga's orders, a few men "rescue" Hakudoshi and this begins his life within the Yakuza; he essentially becomes Koga's "little project".
Misc
Hakudoshi smokes but doesn’t use drugs, at all.
He occasionally drinks, despite still being a minor (that stuff doesn't really matter when one is a Yakuza member)
His Yakuza tattoos are mostly on his back but don't cover his scars. The tattoo includes a spider and a black koi fish, which represents perseverance (this tattoo is often associated to a person who has made it through tough times).
He owns two phones, one for general stuff, the other is specifically for Kagura or Koga whenever they need him urgently (which is...almost all the time).
In Hakudoshi's first kill he hesitated before delivering the final blow on his victim. Despite the hesitation, he actually enjoyed the feeling of taking someone else's life and that sensation remains whenever he does these jobs. Behind the neutral expression is actually a sadistic boy.
Despite all this, Hakudoshi doesn't want Akago involved in the Yakuza life and does the possible and impossible to provide his brother with a normal life.
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charspnp · 4 years
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since we were kids
「 takami keigo x g/n! reader 」
warnings: slight angst with happy ending
masterlist
your ring burned on your skin, the bright pink shining proudly as you got into position. you and your partner, hawks, were trying to get people out of a burning building. you were left to fight as hawks glee up and got people out.
"is that all you got?" you yelled at the villain.
his hands sparked before producing more flames, throwing them at you. you activated your quirk, trapping the flames in bubbles, then popping them, putting out the flames.
he laughed coldly, he was slowly losing and he realized he wasn't gonna win. a large crimson wing appeared behind your back almost protectively as your long time best friend appeared beside you. you flashed him a smile and he returned the favor before you both turned back to the fire criminal.
his eyes widened and his hands started shaking, throwing more fire at you two, the amount becoming less and less. hawks distracted him and got up close as you went behind him and trapped him in a large bubble, immediately subduing him.
hawks laughed and you two high-fived, capturing a criminal once again. firefighters successfully put out the fire and cops came to get the villain. the people who were previously in the fire thanked the both of you.
this is why you became a hero- seeing so many smiling faces, thanking you for something you could do so easily (only beside hawks, though. you'd never admit he made your fighting capabilities better due to his already huge ego).
before any interviewers could get close, hawks grabbed you and flew up. you yelped a little, still somehow not used to randomly getting picked up by him dispite knowing him all your life. he chuckled and held onto you tighter.
your hands rested on his arms that were around your waist and he put his chin on your shoulder. though always unexpected, you did love flying with hawks. it's always so calming and nice.
soon enough, the sun had started to set, which means that hawks had to land soon. he hated flying at night with you because he was afraid something and would happen. eventually, he got to your house and landed on the veranda outside of your bedroom. he set you down and you quickly turned to face him and threw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close and squeezing him. he hesitated for a second, shocked, before wrapping his arms back around you, holding you. he looked down at his right hand, the bright pink color of his ring shining through his black glove, taunting him. he hated how he met his soulmate yet doesn't know who they are. he thinks about it constantly and who it might be, the thought always in the back of his mind.
you inhaled before letting him go, a goofy smile covering your face. hawks couldn't help but smile back at you. god, are you pretty. a faded pink rose on his cheeks, only getting deeper the longer he looked at you. after about a minute of just looking at each other, you pulled away, heart almost beating out of your chest and you hoped to god he couldn't hear it.
"so, uh... i'll.. get going now," you whispered, not being able to speak any louder.
"y-yeah. i-i had fun today. y'know, defeating the villain and all."
"me too.."
before you got entranced by his face again, you quickly turned around and opened your door, entering your bedroom.
"i'll see you tomorrow, kei."
"yeah! see ya!" he felt suddenly excited as you used his real name- a rare occurrence even after so many years of knowing each other.
"night."
"g'night, dove."
you closed the door and the curtain followed, enclosing you in darkness. you sighed, your heart hurting. why does he have to be so perfect?
you took a deep breath and changed out if your hero costume and into your pj's. you overdramatically threw yourself into your bed before actually settling in. you stared up at the ceiling, the only light in the room coming from your shining ring.
you lifted up your right hand and touched the ring, the material being unmovable. it just glowed at you mockingly.
"who are you?" you whispered to yourself.
your ring had been pink for as long as you could remember. see, almost everyone gets a ring on their right ring finger. if the ring doesn't appear by the age 20, you're deemed to not have a soulmate. yours appeared at age 6, only being pink as you grew up. the color of the ring depends on how your soulmate feels. for example, the ring will turn red if they're angry, green if they're happy, blue if they're sad, etc. it turns pink when you meet your soulmate and black when they die.
that's why you're so confused. your ring had always been pink. you already met your soulmate. with your luck, it was probably someone who had held the door for you or picked something of yours up when you dropped it, then disappeared never to be seen again. you probably already lost your chance to meet them and "fall in love" like all your friends have. every time someone asked you about your soulmate after seeing your ring, you just responded with the normal answer: "oh, i don't know who they are. it's been pink for as long as i can remember" and they always have you the same sympathetic smile and nod.
you sighed and let your hand fall back down on your stomach. you rolled over and closed your eyes as the day finally came down on you, sleep enveloping you.
-----
you woke up in the middle of the night to your ring tone- it was chickens clucking, signifying that it was hawks calling you. you groaned and grabbed your phone off your nightstand, answering the call.
"what's up?" you asked, yawning.
"is this l/n y/n?" a female voice asked on the other line.
confused, you sat up, "yeah, who is this?"
"my name is jira tonori, im a nurse, and you're the only person on takami keigo's emergency contact list. im calling to inform you that he has been admitted into hosu general hospital."
"o-oh... um, i-i'm on my way." you responded, feeling awake all of a sudden.
"okay, see you soon."
you quickly hung up and jumped out of bed, not bothering to change (unless you have like,, no pants on-), putting on your shoes and running out of the house. you borderline sped to the hospital and ran out of your car to the entrance of the building.
you stopped at the front counter, getting a few weird looks from people in the waiting room, but you didn't care. your mind was flooded with what happened and what could happen.
out if breath, you quickly said, "i-i'm l/n y/n, here to see takami keigo."
the lady nodded and responded, "he's in room 23c."
you nodded and ran to the elevator, pressing the up button multiple times as your thoughts got worse. the door opened and you stepped into the surprisingly empty room, pressing the level 3 button. you ran your hands through your hair.
the door dinged and you once again ran down the hallway, the numbers of each room flying by until you got to 23. the door was already opened and you heard talking coming from inside. you jogged through the doorframe, your eyes locking on hawks' and you flung yourself toward him, ready to take him into a hug before you saw the bandage wrapped around his torso, some of it being spotted with red, and you stopped in front of his bed.
"y/n!"
"keigo!"
his heart swelled at the sight of you and you using his real name. his chest was filled with a strange warmth he only felt around you. you put your hands on his arm and looked at him, searching for something- what you were looking for was lost to him.
the nurse beside him spoke up, "um, takami-san, i think you need to calm down a bit," she chuckled nervously.
you both looked at her, suddenly hearing his heart beat going a mile a minute. hawks blushed and looked away. you smiled a bit, as did the nurse.
she noticed your pink rings and made her way out of the room, saying, "i'll leave you two alone, but be careful."
an unusual silence filled the room. it was awkward and foreign, as one of you was always talking when you were together.
"what... what happened?" you asked quietly, looking at his face, which now had cuts on his lip and eyebrow, as well as a slight black eye. you'd also previously noticed how his left wing was bandaged and his right was weakly spread beside him.
"someone jumped me on my way home," he spoke, looking down, "they pulled at my wings and beat me up before i even knew what was happening. they even stabbed me a few times." that explains the bandage.
his voice sounded unusually tired and weak. he didn't bother to make eye contact with you, hating how weak he already looked in front of you.
you sighed, "are you okay, though? is it anything, like, deathly?"
he shook his head, "no. their biggest concern is me bleeding out, but that's very unlikely."
you nodded before looking back at his face. you looked from the dry blood on his forehead to the dirt on his chin. you reached out and cupped his cheek. he immediately leaned into your soft and warm palm, loving the feeling (he had to stop himself from cooing at the simple sign of affection).
"im so happy you're okay," you told him.
"me too. i'd hate the thought of you being without me, dove."
whether it was stroke at his ego or genuine concern, you smiled at the sentence. you wiped a stray price of blonde hair from his face and he almost audibly coo'd at the action. you giggled under your breath, knowing how much he enjoyed your touch.
"you should get some sleep. im sorry for having to wake you up in the middle of the night." he said to you.
"it's okay, pretty bird," he blushed at the name, "im really just happy you're not dead. but, you should get sleep, too. i can't imagine what this did to you."
he chuckled softly and his face almost instantly turned to pain as he groaned and put his hand over his stomach. you caught a glimpse of his rig as he did so. your breath got caught in your throat as you saw the color of his ring.
pink? he found his soulmate? why didn't he ever tell me?
though you knew him for so long, and saw him close to every day, he never allowed you to see his ring. you never knew why, but now you see. he knows his soulmate. you just wondered why he never told you. did he not trust you? did he n-
your thoughts were interrupted by him speaking, "yeah, so, uh, you should go home now, i guess. you still have to work tomorrow."
you tore your eyes away from his hand, "home? work? oh please, im staying here with you for as long as it takes."
he shook his head, "no, y/n, it's okay, really, y-"
this time you cut him off, "im staying here whether you like it or not, keigo."
he immediately shut up at your use of his given name. you turned and sat in the chair behind you. you settled into the small chair and hawks smiled at your cute form. he then turned his head to look up at the ceiling. the room once again had a silence, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as earlier. the only sounds heard was his steady heartbeat shown on the monitor by his side, and your soft breathing. he knew as soon as you got comfortable, you passed out. he followed soon after, his body weak and in need of energy.
-----
you were woken up more violently as you had been previously to a sharp 'beeeeep!' and rushed voices and yells. you weren't able to make out what was happening before you were escorted out of the room.
as you stood in the hallway, someone closed the door, blocking you out from your childhood friend once again. things started registering and you had realized what was happening. hawks' heartbeat monitor had suddenly gone flat.
hawks died.
hawks died and you were sleeping.
millions of thought ran through your head yet again. you covered your mouth with your shaky hands and slid down the wall behind you. you right hand reached your face and you jerked it back, feeling how dangerously cold the material of the ring was.
it turned black. your soulmate died.
millions of more thoughts ran through your head. you could feel your heartbeat in your ears and everything started getting blurry and you felt dizzy and nauseated.
hawks is your soulmate? was your soulmate? holy shit, how have you not noticed? you'd known him since you were kids- since before your ring appeared on your hand.
he'd been there through everything. every heartbreak you had, every obsession you had, hell, he was even there when you almost fucking died in a car crash. and now he's the one dying.
you felt like you were gonna pass out. all you could hear was the loud beep of his heartbeat monitor and the voices of the doctors in the room of the man you'd known for so long- had a crush on for so long- was your fucking soulmate.
you heard a final "clear!" before a faded beeping reached your ears. everything was eerily silent beside that beeping. your ring felt like fire on your finger, a terrible (yet amazing) contrast on how it previously felt.
you looked at it, the rig now shining brighter than it ever had. it was pink. you laughed, tears you didn't know were there rolling down your cheeks. to any passerby, you probably looked crazy, but you never felt better.
hawks was alive.
the door opened and a doctor stood there, looking at you on the floor, weak as ever. you made eye contact and he moved out of the doorframe, allowing you to go in the room. and you did. you sprinted into the room and to hawks' side. he looked at you and you hastily leaned down to press your lips to his.
surprised and clueless as to what was happening, hawks took a second before kissing you back with almost as much passion as you. you cupped his cheeks and he held your wrists tight, not wanting to let go of you, afraid he would almost lose you again. your rings burned against your skin and you smiled into the kiss. his lips felt like heaven on yours, they were slightly chapped but you didn't care. you had waited so long for this, wishing for so long he was your soulmate. and now your wish had come true. you had everything you wanted.
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requests: open, 4-30-20
2.5k words! i know i could've ended/just in general written this better but my head is empty- anyway, i have two fics in the works and one finished :)
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telesthisia · 3 years
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Remember that Pokemon AU I made long ago? Yeah, me neither but I decided to revisit and revise it after staying up until six AM because hell brain loves not letting me have sleep. I’m actually happy with how everything winded up this time around, if this AU strikes your fancy and you wanna collab or something I’m always down to chat things out!! Whether you want your muse to know Zel or be a gym leader/part of the elite four or just some average joe trainer I’m down!! Sooooo let’s go over some things, shall we?
So let’s start with the easiest, her team! I believe for her first AU, I made them psychic? I think? But here it’s all spooky scary ghost type, baby!!  She has Spiritomb, Dusknoir, Sableye, Mimikyu, Cofagrigus, Gengar, and Cursola! She doesn’t have an Ace, as she considers them all her aces, each pokemon has their own strengths and weaknesses and she tries to keep track of in order to come up with unique and tricky strategies to wipe the floor with you. As such her team is made up of feared opponents and it’s tough to say which pokemon is the toughest due to her ever changing strategies but it’s best to agree that they are all tough as hell. That said she had Gengar for the longest, having known him since he was a Haunter. He’s a bit of a malicious pokemon, often liking to play vicious pranks on unsuspecting people, though Zelda says it’s out of affection and his way of making friends; this statement is ambiguous considering how nasty Gengar can be to anyone who’s not Zelda ;v; he’s very loyal to her though and rarely will you see him in his pokeball. And yes, she spoils all her pokemon equally; she loves them all and will insist that they are just as cute as a Pikachu or Skitty despite how infamously creepy they all are and the fact that some of them can and will curse you. 
SHE’S THE SEVENTH GYM LEADER BABY!!!!! That’s right, a gym leader not some trainer! Let’s have some fun and indulge ourselves with this AU. So, Zelda comes from a region known as Hyrule which is rich in history. Though not a princess, she does have the neato title of: Ghostly Princess of Fantastical and Phantasmagoric Battles! She’s known for being the second most tough gym leader of her region, people more often fail getting past her before going to the final gym and then the champion and elite four. But, just because she’s tough to beat does not mean she’s impossible! She resides in the humble village of Kakariko. 
Her gym is actually really scary, we’re talking silent hill levels of scary. It looks like an abandon building perhaps built in an older era due to how antique it is, with paint chipping off the walls, paintings that have eyes following you, a dinky flashlight acting as the only source of light (unless you have flash than you’re set), some areas have tight spaces and hallway and the trainers hiding in the darkness ready to surprise you for a battle. Ghosts haunt the area so don’t be too surprised if you hear random noises, feel a sudden chill or come out with scratches. It makes battling her hilarious though since the last thing you’d expect is a petite girl in pastel with a bright smile encouraging you to do your best before beating your ass with cursed pokemon. Her gym is a dreadful place and it’s not surprising to see people go in there in groups of two or with their pokemon by their side. 
She has a natural kinship with ghosts overall, coming from a family of mediums/Channeler class on her mother’s side. As such she possesses sensitive PSI (sadly no telepathy in this verse u-u) she’s not only surrounded by ghost pokemon but also by human spirits; these ones are harder to see if you do not have medium abilities. That being said, she was subjected to possession when she was younger, but she’s more or less learned to not get possessed by the spirits as she grew. It’s almost impossible to take pictures with her or of her because of the ghosts surrounding her, but usually the sixth picture is the lucky shot where there’s nothing creepy going on in it. 
Already well-known thanks to her Dad, considering he’s the CEO of a tech company that ensures only the best technology for Trainers to use on their journey. So, heiress of a famous company. Some expect her to take over but Zelda has no plans of becoming the next head of the company nor is her father pressuring her to do so. Her mother passed long ago but at least in this AU her Dad is still alive so she actually has her family here :’) 
Though a gym leader, she’s not always inside her gym often liking to explore the region of Hyrule instead and visiting the Pokemon Tower to pay respects, it’s usually Impa that’s dragging her back by the ears to go battle challengers haha!! While responsible enough to uphold her duties as Gym Leader, this isn’t really her end goal in terms of career. She’s actually a college student studying to become a historian! Once she’s finished with her studies, she’ll probably go to the league to give up her position for the next in line. Usually she opens up before cramming for exams ;v; 
Speaking of which, she become stressed during exam periods and well, usual horde of ghost pokemon becomes bigger as the result. So if the townspeople of  Kakariko see a giant group of ghost pokemon surrounding a certain tiny blondie they assume that it’s testing time and go about their day LMAO. 
Annnnd that’s it! Here’s her design for the AU, I tried to stick to pokemon art style but it hard ;v; also no cool pointy elf ears for her how sad... but the general idea of her outfit is: Cute! Like Jasmine and her little sundress ;v; 
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tarithenurse · 4 years
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Valentine’s Fool
Pairing: Sam Wilson x fem!reader Content: All the Fake Dating tropes as well as smut (don’t be a fool, wrap the tool), and some fluff. And cussing. A/N: I never celebrate Valentines, but that shouldn’t stop a good one-shot. Enjoy! 
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I should have known it would backfire! Stomping back and forth in the cramped space of the elevator, you barely notice the door opening let alone whoever you march past (accidentally shouldering them) when you hurry to get out before it is too late. Crapcrapcrap.
The hallway is comparable with a long tunnel without discerning details – a fact you logically know not to be true. The boom of the door to your quarters closing is reduced to a soft thud…unfortunately echoed moments later when Sam bursts in.
…   Flashback   …
”ExCUSE ME?!” The words were hurled at you echoing through the kitchen.
Rounding on him, your fists were balled tightly. ”Excuse you? Excuse YOU?” At least he backed up a tiny bit. ”You want me to pretend to be your DATE?! No. Scratch that…your part of a DOUBLE date?”
Having been friends for half a decade, it should not have come as a surprise that Sam had talked himself right into trouble of the most embarrassing kind. Steve, Bucky and you had saved his ass more than once though he rarely got any of you involved before giving some kind of warning. So yeah, of course there was more to it. It was obvious the moment he shuffled the feet, suddenly more interested in the floor than the argument.
“Well…” he mumbled, “I might’ve told my coisin we’re…steady.”
“And then y’wonder why’m NOT won over by the promise of CAKE?”
“It’s the b–“
“I DON’T CARE what sorta cake it is!”
He still managed to slip out “triple-brownie caramel”, and while you might not have cared, your stomach was certainly paying attention all of a sudden. Should’ve had a snack after training. He sensed the shift within you –used to dealing with two super soldier’s food urges – gently nudging the flaring cravings by describing every single detail until drool started to fill your mouth faster than you wanted to swallow.
In the end, he managed to convince you after promising to owing all of two favours – no questions asked.
You arrived early on Valetine’s day, bringing a backpack full of random personal belongings and a few real and photoshopped pictures: all of it a part of the elaborate cover story that you, idiotically, had accepted to adhere to. In some twisted way, that was the easiest part because of the many missions in the name of the Avengers. This is too personal, but you would be damned if you gave up now and let down Sam…and miss out on the cake.
Everything was pretty much perfect with the setup making the two of you look like a couple sharing places randomly but often, and of course Sam’s cousin (Kaylah) was brilliant and her girlfriend funny. What could have been a tedious evening evolved into something closer to second nature with the only difference being the physical proximity of Sam though small touches and handholding.
There was nothing strange about it, actually. You got physical with Sam (and other Avengers) on a daily basis due to sparring, and movie nights often included semi-wrestling for the good spot on the couch (plus if the movie was boring, people would fall asleep more or less on each other).
“Jeez,” Kaylah admonished Sam, quickly stealing the glass with the last bit of white wine from him and passing it to you, “you gotta learn to share, man.”
Agreeing with her, you winked at the wineless guy. “That’s what I try to tell him…but really he ain’t all bad.”
“Bloody hope not! I taught him ev’rythin’ about datin’ and stuff.”
Kaylah’s girlfriend turned around with terror on her face, making you sober up until: “Oh, I’m so so sorry, sweetie [Y/N]! How did y’ever get this far??”
“Haar haar!” The couple bickered lovingly back and forth, while you enjoyed a chance to usher Sam to the kitchen for more to drink for all of you.
Yes, no hitches in the plan.
Not until Sam (tailed by his cousin) had to squeeze past you in the kitchen, his fingers curling around your hipbone…and it ignited something within, making you sigh a little to audibly. Next thing you knew, the two other women were peeking around the corner (“discreetly”, according to their wine-laced minds) to spy on Sam kissing you.
It was not that you had to kiss to keep a cover. It was not even the fact that it was Sam Freaking Wilson, one of your best friends.
No.
The thing that caught you by surprise was how right it felt as the pretend kiss developed, drawing him closer to you or vice versa. Your little moan, which he swallowed so neatly, did not even register until he pulled away with that soft look in his eyes.
 …   Now   …
“What’s goin’ on? All rest of th’evenin’ t’was like Antarctica sittin’ next to ya! Gotta talk to me, sugar.” The nickname is far from strategic unless his hope is to shut you up instead.
You recover from fish-mode, finding the use of your voice once more. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought it’d be better to cool things down b’fore your cous’ dared you to go further!”
I’m behaving like a teenager! But the little logical voice in your mind is drowned out by the turmoil that is making your knees weak and pushing your heart to beat like you have run a mile. Sam is your friend. He has been for ages and has never ever made a move to indicate that he would be interested in more than a platonic relationship, so it is uncalled for that your body or hormones suddenly want more. Need to get my head straight.
Where you cannot think, the man before you seems plenty capable of it. “Yeah. She dared me…didn’t hear ya complain, though.”
“Wh-…that’s a low blow even for you, Wilson.”
“Maybe, but tell me I’m wrong, then,” he insists, confidently stepping closer, “tell me ya didn’t feel anythin’…t’was just me?”
He has got you against the window, but you are still searching for an answer when his words register with you, playing on a loop until it is certain you heard right.
It is like seeing him in a new light, finally unveiled with every subtle detail on display: the slight gap between the front teeth which is nothing short of perfection because it adds a boyish charm to his smiles; the searching flicker in those warm, dark eyes boring into your soul.
“C’mon, babe…I didn’t just ask ya to help me ‘cause ya like cake…”
“…was a good cake…”
“I can get ya somethin’ better if you’ll let me.”
Hot hands have found yours, skin caressing skin and sending little sparks of comfort with the rush of blood to nestle in your chest, and though your heart still is galloping it is not because of anger anymore. Sam is a hair’s width away. You can smell the coffee on his breath that he had with the triple-brownie caramel cake – both dessert and lips delicious as sin according to your experience. It is impossible to glance at the lopsided smirk and not want to enjoy the gentle greed of his mouth in action one more time.
You do not know when you began nibbling on your lower lip, you just know that he pulls it free from your teeth with the soft brush of a thumb before holding you close enough to feel his heartbeat mix with your own. Wild and passionate. In contrast, the kiss is hesitant as if he is afraid of rejection even now. Or to give me a chance to back out? There is no going back. The bridge is crossed and ablaze, and you are ready to dance in the scorching heat.
“Don’t hold back, please,” you mumble against his lips, moulding against him with a firm grip of his neck and a satisfying squeeze to his butt. What an ass!
As the dam finally bursts, any and all indecision are swept away to make room for pure lust. Sam’s hands are everywhere though favouring your hips in an effort to create friction between your pelvises where an increasingly prominent bulge calls for attention without getting any. Not yet. You are both too busy exploring the reactions conjured by increasingly slobby kisses anywhere with access to skin – so caught up that you barely register when Sam moves you until your calves hit the bed and you tumble onto it. He is out of breath (just like you) with swollen lips and heavy lidded eyes that only let go of you the few seconds it takes to pull the shirt over his head.
Hot damn.
Oh, you have seen him shirtless before and even admitted to yourself then how good looking he is. Gorgeous and off limits – just like all your teammates. Knowing that this time Sam is all yours to touch and adore? It is overwhelming and sends sweet waves of heated impatience to your core. Sitting up, he is only out of reach until grabby hands and a pout has done the job to bring him to stand between your knees.
Rapid fingers manage to make short work of the belt and zipper before he stops you. The roguish charm will be the end of you some day, but you feel more alive than ever as he takes over and removes your shirt before his jeans. A quick lift and shove sends you properly sprawled out on the bed and you obediently lift your hips so he can pull down the skirt and pantyhose in one go.
“Daymn, your sexy too!”
“Is that your way of fishing for a compliment, Wilson?”
Surprise flickers before laughter takes over. “Feel free to shower me with ya sweet words…but I did mean you.” Sam has taken to kiss and caress his way up your legs, giving you a generous view to the flex of his back muscles. “Smart,” he punctuates with a soft bite to the inner thigh, “funny,” once more he pauses, “strong,” this time he has reached the fabric of your underwear and kisses your pussy through it, “everythin’…and fuckin’ gorgeous too.”
The heat, which has been centered around your core, spreads to your face at the sound of the adoring words. Any reciprocating compliment is halted as Sam surges up to reclaim your lips, and amidst dazzling tongue action and teasing bites he tells you, no…begs you, to just accept the praises because “this is all about you, sugar”.
Your friend/lover/partner/boyfriend takes his time to explore all of your body and remove the last bit of clothing, turning you lazily around to trace the length of your spine or seat you in his lap while his cock nestles between the folds until you moan in delirious anticipation. By the time he finally aligns with your craving pussy, Sam hands have massaged their right into every cell of you – traced it onto your clit with his tongue.
“Yeah?” It is a whisper against your throat.
“Yes,” you confirm, already anchored to him with bruising grips. Oh, yes please!
With all of his attention tuned in to your reactions, the gentle lover eases his cock in as he takes time for both of you to adjust before the game of learning continues. Each of you chase the keening sounds of the other as bodies find a common rhythm and soon, surprisingly so, the coil in your core snaps to release waves of pleasure.
A guttural groan escapes Sam, “Oh, fu-uck!” You can barely feel through your own high how he stutters, face buried in the crook of your shoulder. “Damn, princess…”
When he resurfaces to meet your gaze moments later, you can see a hint of chagrin in his eyes.
“You’re amazing!” You do not give him time to protest. “It’s hard to ‘magine round two’s going to be even better now the pent up need’s blown.”
Sam’s crooked smirk is back in a second. “I’m sure we can beat all records, sugar.”
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Request; The Kombat Krew and Pop Culture.
This is the fluff post for tonight. I am so tired, but I want to upload! This week has been really hard on me. But here we are. Some trash. A little NSFW in places, so to be sure. I’ve added a cut! 18+ under the cut.  GIFS do not belong to me. 
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Kabal;
·         Vape nation represent. Kaballin. Got the spins? Ninja Mime 4 was bullshit!
·         Pop Culture is something he’s well versed in. He’s a fucking meme spouting shit lord. To be fair.
·         He’s seen Johnny’s movies. He invented the fucking drinking game for it. He’s fucking down to rip the shit out of them. Unless Tremor is about. Then he keeps his mouth shut.
·         If you like them, he will tease you about them. But not too much.
·         He doesn’t let on how much he’s into geek culture. Not to you straight away anyway. You kind of guess when you finally end up back at his apartment.
·         First time you go there, everything’s getting hot and heated, he’s got you up against the hallway wall. Before you stumble into the living room and see everything.
·         Neatest part of his apartment is his games and comic shelves.
·         He goes fucking red. Pretends its not his. He certainly doesn’t play WoW and troll people till 2 in the morning, in nothing but his underwear eating pizza. Those glasses aren’t his either.
·         He loves his geeky stuff. And hopes you’ll accept it.
·         When you start smiling and rifling through his collection, noting how its impressive, most impressive. He’ll start to smile and relax.
·         He explains his love for pop culture came from a need. He always wanted some of it growing up, but his family was poor. So, when he started earning money, he just bought everything his heart ever yearned for.
·         He’ll live for movie nights in as well. Like, bad movie night just consists of all of Johnny’s films. You both made a drinking game out of them, take a shot for every explosion that wasn’t needed, when there’s overacting, underacting, just some bullshittery. You both end up on your arse. Fucking slaughtered.
·         He loves music too. Like he loves indie music, but not the Smiths. He fucking cannot stand the smiths.
·         Oh yeah two words. Trashy Emo music. He knows the lyrics to ‘Check Yes Juliet’ and you cannot tell me otherwise.
·         Blurting out ‘Allstar’ whilst on a late-night drive. You trying not to laugh and also grabbing the wheel, as he does all the actions. You love it.
·         Reading comics in your pjs/underwear, laid out on his bed, at 2 Am in the morning. Discussing the latest theories, directions for the movies and debating who’s the best hero/ villain.
·         Is the type of dick to choose Rainbow Road on Mario Kart all the time.
·         Is actually good at the course.
·         Is loves vines as well. Whenever its time for him to tell a story, he will always start with some shit like, “There I was, BBQ Sauce on my tiddies”
·         Walking meme lord.
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Sub Zero (Kuai Liang);
·         I’ve touched on this in his full smut fic but here we go.
·         He doesn’t have time to himself, and the rare time he gets, he does not wish to devote it to Popular Culture.
·         Kuai hasn’t had much exposure to popular culture, as he calls it. He will not refer to it as pop culture. I mean he calls movies, motion pictures in game. So yeah, the man is deprived.
·         The brief exposure has had, mainly stems from Johnny and Cassie. Cassie with her memes, snark and references. And the fact Johnny made him watch a few of his films.
·         That put him off pop culture for life… well sort of.
·         He does love reading fiction, so he has read Game of Thrones, The Witcher and Lord of The Rings. He loves fantasy. It allows him to be transported somewhere other than the temple.
·         Fiction was a crutch he used, though he won’t admit it’s a weakness. When he felt alone, isolated and just generally out of synch. He would read.
·         He claims its for relaxation purposes, because a good warrior is well rested and in the right mindset.
·         When he gets with you though, you’ll have to introduce him to stuff slowly. You don’t want to over-ride his system.
·         He ends up watching Lord of the Rings and he does enjoy it. Does not enjoy the Hobbit films though. He does love it.
·         He more loves watching a film, because you’ll always end up falling asleep on his chest. Your limbs tangled with his. And you looking so content.
·         He doesn’t get a lot of time to himself. But he does love to spend it with you. If you’re really into pop culture, then he will try and devote some time to it. He wants to share your interests after all.
·         Is an amazing Dungeon Master when it comes to sticking to the rules. He has a pretty decent campaign, but it takes him ages to craft it. His imagination has its limitations, because he’s trained it that way.
·         Comics and Games do not interest him overly. He’s not into them.
·         But he loves watching your eyes light up when you play/ talk about them. He loves the passion you have for them. It’s cute.
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Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi);
·         Like Kuai, the only exposure he’s ever had to pop culture is from Johnny, Cassie and Takeda. Takeda comes out with some absurd nonsense. Which leaves him staring at him. Shocked, confused and a little grumpy.
·         Johnny has made him watch some of his films, read screenplays and storyboards, in an attempt to turn the Shira Ryu into a fucking franchise.
·         All starring Grandmaster Grumpy face himself. But there’s a lot more nudity, can you fucking believe it, and there’s a mystical opossum that spreads wisdom.
·         Him and Kuai are very similar, in the fact they’ve both been put off it, but are willing to indulge in it. Because of you.
·         He’s more into movies. He actually would love some Inception, Shutter Island type bullshit. Complex plots that thrill. He wants to be kept occupied or he’ll get bored.
·         He’ll actually enjoy discussions at the end. What he liked, what he didn’t. What he thought he was stupid and if he’d watch it again or something similar.
·         Exploration into pop culture.
·         If you mention that a particular movies is your favourite, he cannot bring himself to say a bad word about it. So, he ends up growing to love it as much as you do.
·         He’ll love to joint read a book together. Then spend hours talking about it. Sleep often eludes him, so its nice that you’re awake with him.
·         Music is something he does enjoy, whilst he can see it as distracting, he also views it as a tool for relaxation. Just nothing too trashy. Do not expect him to serenade you with a rendition of ‘Tik Tok’ it’s not happening.
·         He prefers slower music, more chilled out, things to relax and unwind to.
·         He’ll on occasion, wrap his arms around your waist, holding you from behind. Before swaying gently to the music with you. Whispering sweet nothings in your ear. He loves it.
·         He’s not overly into Comics or videogames. BUT, he does have a soft spot for Star Wars. He doesn’t know why he likes it. But he loves him some Space-Bullshit. Happy the family drama isn’t about him. Loves it. Just don’t tell anyone yeah?
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Raiden;
·         He’s very curious and willing to indulge in it. He knows of Popular Culture, he has seen many a Mortal enjoying it, using it as an escape mechanism. This is totally a dig at myself.
·         He’s never understood nor experienced it. But he is very curious, and his eyes are filled with wonder.
·         He’s read comics, played some games, watched some movies and read some fiction. He attributes all this exposure to you. You’ve really helped him explore it.
·         He loves to read comics however. He enjoys the art style, the worlds created and how much artistry goes into them.
·         He won’t admit the plots sometimes get him.
·         He loves to explore anything to do with Mortals and their customs. He thinks of it as educating himself.
·         He has seen some of Jonny’s movies, reluctantly. Once Johnny found out that you were introducing him to Pop Culture; he insisted on having some of his stuff in there.
·         Raiden is not impressed at all. He’s confused by Johnny’s films, he’ll sigh, and comment on how it explains a lot. It explains how one man can be such an idiot.
·         Imagine introducing Raiden to Mario Kart. He is so confused. You say its like driving a car, and he’s just like, what?
·         Once he gets the hang of it, he really gets into it. He’s fascinated and amazed at technology. He picks it up really quickly.
·         As far as music goes, he’s really open to listening to anything and everything. He would prefer more classical music. Anything that can help him relax.
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Erron Black;
·         Before he went to Outworld, there wasn’t a lot in terms of Popular Culture. It was like 150 years ago.
·         So, when he finds out how much the world has changed, he has to admit he is very curious and is willing to explore it with you.
·         He would love to binge watch movies with you. Watching Westerns with him is always interesting. With him scoffing and pointing out inaccuracies or stating how fake their accents sound… even though they sound the exact same as his.
·         If you make a comment on Harrison Ford as Han, whilst watching Star Wars, he’ll raise an eyebrow and be smug. Because he knows damn well he has a resemblance to him. You cannot deny it. Do not @ me for this trash opinion.
·         ‘I wouldn’t be caught dead in that outift’ Of course you wouldn’t Erron, of course you fucking wouldn’t.
·         Tremor loves Johnny’s movies, and when its his turn for movie night, he always puts one on. Nobody is going to argue with him. So yeah, he’s seen a fuck ton of his movies. Kabal is always bored on his phone. Tremor is really excited and pointing out his favirote bits. Kira is not present, she’s got a date, and the sausage fest that is the Black Dragon rec room, is not on her list of things to do. Kano is probably passed out in a puddle of his own Piss I don’t know.
·         So, when you suggest watching Ninja Mime, he shudders and shakes his head. He’d do anything for you, but not that. Until you reveal that there’s a drinking game for it. Then he’s down.
·         He would love playing Red Dead Redemption. He fucking loves it. Brings back some memories. He’s impressed by it so much he can overlook some of the inaccuracies.
·         Looks after his Horse in RDR. Because he actually misses having a horse.
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genuinelydecimated · 5 years
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Take It All (Drarry)
Hi! I just wrote my first complete drarry fanfic. I was having a writer’s block/creative hiatus and I decided to go onto random word generator and random number generators. I ended up with writing a drarry fanfic that had to be 2631 words long (It ended up being almost twice as long), and have the words “Routine,” “Take,” and “Brush” in it. 
I hope you enjoy :D here’s the link for ao3 too 
Summary: It's been 5 years since the war, and Draco is finally living instead of just surviving. But when Harry Potter saunters into his workplace looking like he missed his own funeral, Draco's life turns upside down. Suddenly, everything Draco knew is changing.
Or
Draco works with potions for his past, and paints the Malfoy Manor for the present. Here comes Harry Potter, and maybe Draco falls for him for the future
The 5 years after the war ended were not kind to Draco.
The first year after the war was taken up by his 8th year in Hogwarts. He spent it clinging onto Pansy and hiding in the library until his NEWT’s were given with all outstanding grades.
The second year, Draco’s worst to say the least, was spent finding a job. Someplace to have a steady source of income for him and his mother to stay alive. Especially, after the Wizengamot decided to put Narcissa on house arrest and take away 99% of the Malfoy bank account.
The third year, he finally found a job in an apothecary were a gentleman, named Nile Rizer, took him in, hearing about his knack for potions from Minerva McGonagall herself.
Now every year since then has been a steady ascent from surviving to living.
Draco’s day was normal. This routine held so close to his heart as it left him feeling like a normal human being living their life, as if his past never happened. All he had to do was wake up, get dressed, get to work, create potions, sell them, close up, go home, paint, then sleep. To be honest, Draco didn’t know which part of the day was his favourite.
Creating potions brought him back to before the war. The elegance in reaching over the cauldron, the gentle plops and sizzles from putting ingredients in them, and the smoothness of mixing grounded him back then. When Mr Rizer tested his potions making, he was astounded and amazed, and a surge of pride ran through Draco. His potions brought the Rizer’s Apothecary to one of the five main shops for St Mungo’s to get their potions from.
Wearing his work robes, a dark neutral grey, almost black, with white linings, he kissed his mother’s cheek goodbye and apparated to the front of the store. As his breath swirled from his sigh, he unlocked the shop. The candles immediately lit themselves, and the bells of the door jingled. He felt at peace.
Checking that all the shelves were stocked up and the cauldrons for sale were clean was muscle memory by now. The brightness of the inside of the shop put dark memories deeply hidden. Rizer entered as he finished checking the dragon’s blood shelf.
“Good morning, sir.” Draco greeted.
“Indeed it is, Malfoy. All the checks in order?” Rizer asked as he hung his coat up beside the register.
“Yes. Everything is set for the day.” Draco smiled as he waved his wand and the sign at the front door changed itself to ‘OPEN.’ “I’ll be in the back.”
As Draco headed off, the familiar jingle of the bells and a greeting from Rizer to the customer was heard.
~~~~~~~
The hours passed as quickly as they always did. Before he knew it, 5 batches of dreamless sleep were brewing in the back, 3 cauldrons were brewing halfway done hangover potions, and his own experiment with wolfsbane was busy simmering away in the corner. As the day started to turn into night, he put the safety alarms on each one (just in case something went wrong).
Mr Rizer had popped in about 30 minutes ago to tell him he’ll be heading off home.
Draco enjoyed closing up the shop. The candles seem to burn brighter, dancing across the shelves like children playing hide and seek. As soon as the thought came through, it left, being pushed away by Draco’s defense mechanisms to not think about childhood.
He closed the door, and watched as the candles flickered off. Smiling, he spun on his heel and apparated home.
Narcissa greeted him with the same open arms he always fell into after coming home from work. He realised a long time ago they needed each other if they were to, not only survive, but live.
“Welcome home, Draco. Ippsy cooked your favourite as a thank you.” Narcissa said as they sauntered towards the dining room.
Draco stared at the meal in front of them in awe, Ippsy smiling gracefully beside Narcissa’s seat.
“A thank you? What magnificent thing have I done for Ippsy to thank me with beef bourguignon,” Ippsy snapped her fingers and a tower of macarons appeared. “ And a macaron tower?”
“The kitchen is brighter now, Master Draco, sir! Ippsy is very happy to cook when she can see the outside, yes. Thank you, Master Draco.” Ippsy said, her happiness radiating.
Draco couldn’t forget his latest painting. It sat on the kitchen walls. Green bushes and shops filled the place, a mix of the best parts of the backyard garden and Diagon Alley. Draco heard Ippsy talk to Narcissa once about how she loved going out to shops for us, so he painted exactly that in the place Ippsy spent most of her time in.
“Thank you for this, Ippsy. I’m happy you like the painting.” Draco sat down, and began eating.
Conversation was stilted, but that was okay. The clanking of silver on porcelain filled the silences. As Draco bit into his third macaron, feeling the sugar coursing through his veins, his mother spoke up.
“Your paintings are beautiful, Draco. I’m glad you found a good hobby.”
Draco smiled softly at his mother. “Thank you. I am too.”
Narcissa smiled back and left the room, dismissing herself from the table.
After dinner, Draco walked around the Manor, looking for his next canvas. It ranged from room doors to ceilings. Hallways too. Sometimes an idea would hit him out of nowhere as his gaze landed on a blank space.
If potions grounded him before the war, reminding him of how innocent he was, then painting grounded him after the war, telling him he hasn’t lost his childlike wonder. His painting was done by magic, but they rarely ever moved. He’d been so careful to keep them stagnant and unmoving, without a life of its own. He only ever made painted candles flicker.
He wandered into a spare bedroom, the first place he ever painted. The ceiling looked like an explosion, the broken chandelier hanging in the middle added to the effect. It was an explosion of everything, the green of avada kedavra, the reds of crucio, electricity crackling all around it, unmoving but pulsing, with mixes of dull greys and harsh colours behind it. It was a scream.
In the corner, written in small cursive handwriting was “DM.” His mother’s idea, really. To sign his works. As if someone would see them and wonder who it belonged to. That’s not why he did it though. It was for him. To name it, brand it, show that it was him, not his.
He signed every painting after that.
Feeling sleepy, and no motivation or inspiration hitting him. He crawled into bed and drifted off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day, as he was talking to Rizer about St Mungo’s orders for more dreamless sleep, the front door chimed. Out of all the people to walk through those doors, he hadn’t expected Harry Potter. Draco took a moment, pushing back every bad thought of the war that accompanied the presence of the Chosen One.
Who definitely looked like death itself.
“Merlin, Potter, what happened?” Malfoy asked, ignoring the eyebrow raise from Rizer.
“Oh, Malfoy. I didn’t know you worked here.” Potter replied.
“How did you hear of Rizer’s Apothecary?” Curiosity got the better of Rizer.
“It was on the list of shops that St Mungo’s got their potions from.”  Rizer grinned brightly, the pride looked to swell in his soul.
“What do you need, Mr Potter?” Rizer asked, still beaming.
“I need vials of dreamless sleep.”
The smile faltered on Rizer’s face, and Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly. They couldn’t give him, or anyone, dreamless sleep without permission from at least 2 mediwitches. After the war, dreamless sleep and calming draught addiction became epidemic, and for at least 4 months, dreamless sleep overdose was in the top ten witch and wizard killers list.
“Mr Potter, I’m afraid we-” Rizer started carefully.
“Please.” Harry cut him off, desperate.
Draco sighed, looking at Rizer. Rizer was a good guy, empathetic and understanding, but his ability to say no was not as strong as it should be. Desperate pleas of help were his weakness.
“Sir, if I could handle this customer?” Draco asked Rizer gently.
Rizer understood, and nodded. He moved swiftly to the back to watch over the potions brewing.
“Potter, you understand we can’t sell dreamless sleep anymore unless you have signed permission from mediwitches.” Draco treaded carefully.
“I know, but I don’t have that. They wouldn’t sign anything even after they checked me.” Potter moved forward slowly, exhaustion seeming to take over as he leaned on the desk. “Can’t you tell I need it?”
Draco assessed the situation. Harry Potter, a normal auror, not the head like Weasley, looked like a gust of wind would knock him over. He had the dark bags under his eyes, and he was fidgeting with his hands. Looking into his eyes, he realised Harry was assessing him too.
“Potter, I’m sorry. I am, but I can’t sell it to you, even if you weren’t an auror.” Draco spoke firmly, ready for a fight.
But none came.
“Okay. I’m sorry.” Potter’s eyes looked directly into Dracos. He held his breath. The candles seemed to flicker at just the right time. Potter’s green eyes were tired, but still so green. The light of defiance was gone, yes. But they were still so green .
“I can only give you a 50mL vial of calming draught. It might help you.” He reached under the desk, and unlocked the drawer of calming draughts. “Please use it sparingly, I won’t be able to sell it to you again for a week.”
Potter nodded, mouth slightly agape. “Thank you, Malfoy.”
“Potter, don’t thank me. You’re a customer, I’d do this for anyone who came into the store looking like they crawled out of a grave.”
Potter half smiled at the jibe, and placed, with shaking hands, some galleons on the desk. Before Draco could give him the change, the front door bell chimed followed by the familiar crack of apparition, then Harry was gone.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Good work today,” Rizer said, as he closed shop.
“You too.” He replied, just before apparating back home.
He snacked on leftover macarons as he stared at the empty library wall. It was calling him. To do what, he wasn’t sure, but it was a call all the same. Carefully taking his wand out, he painted the wall midnight blue. The painting spell had been used so often, he could wordlessly cast it. But something, despite knowing midnight blue was right, seemed off. Then an idea popped into his head.
“Ippsy.” Draco called, never taking his eyes off the dark wall.
“Yes, Master Draco?”
“Do you know anywhere that sells muggle paint brushes and paints to wizards?” He asked, tilting his head as more ideas flooded his mind.
“Yes, there is a small shop on Diagon Alley that sells those. Is Master Malfoy wanting some?”
“Yes, Ippsy. I’m thinking I should use muggle painting for this wall.”
“Ippsy will get the paint and paintbrushes for Master Malfoy. Ippsy will be back.”
Before Draco could specify what equipment he would need, Ippsy disappeared with a snap of her fingers. Then reappeared 10 seconds later, holding a big bag filled with everything.
“Thank you, Ippsy. You may go.”
“Ippsy is excited to see what you will paint on this wall, Master Draco. Ippsy knows it must mean a lot to Master, as Master Draco loves the library.” Ippsy said before she disappeared.
As he mixed the paints carefully, creating leafy greens, he spent a small moment hoping Potter was taking care of himself.
The news took the break up of Harry Potter and Ginerva Weasley like the last piece of chocolate cake. Until Harry Potter’s coming out as bisexual article, 6 months later, became talk of the town.
However, that press was 4 years ago, there was no reason for Potter to lose sleep like he was. No. Not at all.
~~~~~~~~
“Potter, I can’t give you dreamless sleep or a calming draught.” Draco said as he was putting his newly brewed hangover potions on the shelves.
“I know.” Potter replied.
Draco turned and assessed him again. He looked a bit better. Like he could punch the wind at least two times before it would knock him over.
“Slept well, last night?” He asked casually, counting the overall stock of hangover potions and how many sold last week.
“The fact I slept at all is the miracle here.” Potter mumbled.
Draco snorted a laugh and turned to smile at Potter. “Feeling better?”
Potter smiled in response. “Yeah, I am.”
“May I ask a question, Potter?” Draco said sweetly, smile never leaving his face.
“Sure.”
“Why are you here?” Draco’s smile left and his voice was neutral.
“Oh, um,” Potter stopped, then furrowed his eyebrows as he looked down. “Actually, I’m not sure.”
Draco rolled his eyes and headed back to the register desk. The bell chimed at the front, as a group of customers walked in.
“Excuse me, Potter. I have work to do.”
Potter nodded, still slightly confused. Draco pretended not to feel Potter’s stare as he helped the customers find the ingredients and potions they were looking for, or the fact that Potter didn’t leave until hours later.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Potter, I really don’t see why you’re here again today.” Draco started, head poking from the curtain in the back.
Before Potter could reply, Draco disappeared back behind the curtain for a few seconds. When he emerged from the back, Potter was still standing where he was before.
“Potter, are you okay?” Draco asked, noting Harry’s fidgeting hands and apologetic look on his face.
“I’m sorry.”
When Potter didn’t continue, Draco spoke up. “For what?”
Potter opened his mouth to reply, but then a flash blinded him. Blinking away the spots in his vision, he looked to the front store. There were cameras and people pushing and shoving each other. Customers in the store looked out in a mix of horror and amazement.
“Did you bring the paparazzi here, Potter?” He spat accusingly.
“No, god no. Of course not.” Potter scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “They’ve been following me, and since I’ve come here 3 days in a row… They’ll likely not leave until something newspaper worthy happens.”
The shouts of the crowd outside grew louder, and Rizer emerged from his office behind the register desk. “Malfoy, what’s going- Oh, hello again, Mr Potter.”
Potter smiled back. “Hello, Mr Rizer. I’m sorry for the paparazzi outside the store. It grew bigger since the last time I saw them.”
Rizer turned to look at the front and his eyebrows raised so high, Draco thought they would actually come off.
“Mr Potter, are they here for you or for the store?” Rizer asked carefully, slowly turning from the crowd outside to Potter.
Draco tended to the woman looking to buy a jar of lacewing flies. As she started to leave, he hoped the crowd would move for her. Once the door opened, bell chimed, and her entire body was out of the store, cameras flashed and people gathered around her.
One loud booming voice took over all the others. “Is this shop really wonderful enough to grab the attention of Harry Potter?”
No one in the shop heard her response, but whatever she said made the crowd shout louder. Some looking into the shop with amazement.
“They like the store, I guess.” Potter said, giving a dopey smile to Draco and Rizer.
Draco just stared at Potter in both fear and amazement as a few of the people outside worked their way inside and bought pretty much anything they could put their hands on.
~~~~~~~~~~
The next month and a half were dreadful. Though talking to Potter turned from a hassle to something he might have enjoyed. Slightly. Even with the rise in customers, Potter found a way to converse with Draco about anything and everything. The weird part was how Potter looked like he genuinely enjoyed himself when they spoke to each other. The weirdest part was how Draco was happy about that.
But despite that, he had a big problem.
His routine might as well have been chucked out the window. Sales were growing rapidly, making Draco spend a few hours longer brewing potions to keep stock up. Rizer had even opened his potions station up again in his office to help. Draco was grateful, and admired how calm Rizer was even though he would occasionally bounce off the walls when he looked at the statistics of his shop growing.
However, because Draco had to spend more time in the shop, his painting of the library was not going as quickly as planned. The midnight sky was finished, the Draco constellation in the middle. Trees lined the bottom half, different greens mixing together above a bed of brown. But it had taken much too long to reach this point, even with muggle painting methods.
Draco knew it was petty to blame it on Potter. But he did. He blamed Potter.
So when the front door bell chimed and Potter walked through, looking healthier than he ever had in the past 2 months, Draco dragged him to the back.
“Potter.”
“Malfoy, are you okay?” Potter asked, eyes filled with worry.
Draco breathed in to steady himself. Focusing on the sound of Rizer welcoming another rush of customers.
“You can’t… You can’t just do this, Potter.” Draco started, hoping his voice wasn’t as unsteady as he was feeling.
“Do what?” Potter asked as he walked around the room, touching nothing but looking at the cauldrons bubbling away and the labels above each one.
“Take this,” Gesturing to all around him as Potter stopped moving and stared at him. “From me.”
“Malfoy, what am I taking away?”
“My routine.” Draco breathed in slowly, and silently thanked Potter for being patient. “I knew what I was doing before, but now… Ever since you walked through that door, everything has changed.”
“What has changed?”
Suddenly, Potter was in front of him, within arms reach. Eyes reading Draco like an open book, scanning for an answer amongst paragraphs of nonsense. Draco opened his mouth to answer.
“Malfoy, I need to help me out here. There’s too many people.” Rizer shouted on the other side of the curtain.
“I have to go, Potter. Goodbye.” Draco said, not looking at Potter as he moved swiftly across the room to leave.
Before the curtain dropped all the way, the crack of apparition bounced off his eardrums. “ Everything has changed, Potter. The customers, Rizer, even my mother has been asking about you, who knows what else. ”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Malfoy, I haven’t seen you smile that wide since I employed you. Something happen with Potter today?” Rizer said nonchalantly as he counted the stock of lacewing flies.
“Hm? No, nothing. Why would I be smiling over him?” Draco asked from the other side of the store, scourgifying the cauldrons behind the glass.
“Oh, okay. I’m sorry, I just assumed,” Rizer cleared his throat awkwardly. “I thought you fancied Potter.”
Draco froze, dropping a pewter cauldron just a few millimetres from his feet. “ Oh,” he thought to himself as he placed a hand gently over his pounding heart, and noting the fluttery feeling in his gut. Even realising how his cheek muscles hurt from smiling so wide and for so long too. “That’s changed too.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few hours later, in the Malfoy library, gentle brush strokes of silver and light blue on the wall calmed Draco down from his realisation. When he arrived home, his mother commented on his smile too.
“Draco, dear, you’re beaming. Did something happen today?” She cooed.
“I just realised something.”
“Must be something great to make you smile like you did when you were a child.”
“Oh, it’s not. It’s terrible.”
“Did Potter accidentally spill a potion on himself today?” She asked, laughing to herself.
Draco laughed too. “Something like that.”
Now here he was, painting a stag of silver and blue wisps in between the trees of the forest. Even if Draco couldn’t produce his own patronus, at least he could paint one.
“Draco?” Narcissa’s voice whispered.
“Yes, mother?” He asked, setting his brush down gently on the desk beside him.
“Invite Potter to dinner tomorrow. I’d like to talk to him about something important.”
Draco opened his mouth to protest.
“It has nothing to do with you. No need to worry. It’s… something about the war.” Narcissa treaded carefully with those words, but despite that care, Draco’s blood ran cold.
“Please, Draco.”
He could only nod in reply.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Potter, my mother wants you to visit for dinner tonight.”
Potter hadn’t even walked through the door. “Sure, okay. I’ll just wait until you close shop.”
“Don’t you work as an auror, by the way? How do you find time almost everyday to visit?”
“They put me off 3 months ago. Told me I had to take care of myself before going in on missions.” Potter’s voice was low.
Draco thanked Merlin that there were no customers in the store. The way Potter confessed that insinuated that no one else had known about his work issues. Then it clicked into Draco’s mind. That’s why he came those 2 months ago, looking like death and begging for sleep.
“So, did you see the Quidditch scores for Chudley Cannons against Puddlemere last night?” Potter asked, slipping into their daily conversations. Draco took the hint, and didn’t ask anymore questions about it. Afterall, he has time later to ask.
As the easy conversation and playful banter continued, Draco didn’t realise his heart was soaring the whole time until it landed on Harry’s shoulder.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Welcome to Malfoy Manor. May your time here be better than last time.” Draco said, half-joking half-serious as he let go of Harry’s elbow, letting the feel of apparition leave his body.
“Thank you, Malfoy.” Harry smiled softly at him. Draco’s breath caught in his throat.
They walked in, greeted by Ippsy and Narcissa. The greeting was awkward to say the least. Thankfully, dinner saved the day. As it always does. Silence was an opponent defeated by the sounds of dinner, chewing and munching, crunching and sipping, and the welcoming sound of silver on porcelain.
Before Draco put his last spoonful of treacle tart into his mouth, Narcissa asked him to leave her and Harry alone for a while.
“Mother, are you sure?” Draco asked, putting his spoon down.
“Of course, dear. Potter won’t hurt me, and I certainly won’t hurt him. It’s a private conversation.”
Harry looked worriedly at Draco, then nodded, telling him he would be okay. Draco got up slowly, never leaving Harry’s gaze.
“I’ll be in the library when you’re done, Harry.” Draco said just before leaving the dining room, not realising what he’d said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco didn’t hear the footsteps that stopped just outside the door. He was too focused on the slow confident strokes of his brushes, creating the wispy smokey look of the patronus. Then he’d put that brush down and pick up the one filled with light green, touching it to the wall as the glow of the stag began to grow with each stroke.
He picked up his wand moments later, pointing it to the stag. Breathing in, focusing and feeling his magic run through him, he exhaled, transferring his breath of life into the painting in front of him. The stag’s head turned, facing at the sky and the Draco constellation in the middle. This is the most amount of magic Draco had ever put into a painting. To breath life into it, to give it a life of its own, both terrified and amazed him.
That’s when Draco heard the footsteps approaching him.
“It’s beautiful.” Harry’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Thank you.”
That’s all he could say. The painting was so different from the ones before. Draco groaned internally as he realised even his painting style had changed. How many things can change just by Harry being back in his life?
“I thought you only use a painting spell for these?” Harry said, gesturing to the painting.
“Usually. But, this one, it seemed to call out for more than just magic.”
Draco didn’t know if Harry understood, but it didn’t matter because Draco did. His eyes glazed over the painting, the wall was magnificent. The perfect mix of muggle and magic.
“What changed your painting method?” Harry asked, turning to face Draco.
Draco snorted a laugh, and turned to face him. “You did, Harry.”
Despite just coming to the realisation of his feelings only yesterday, Draco realised even more things at that moment. Like how Harry was suddenly really close and his face was slightly red. And how Draco said “Harry” instead of “Potter” without noticing. And how Draco suddenly really wanted to kiss him. And how Harry seemed to look at him with such hope and admiration.
He reached out, and cupped Harry’s cheek gently, rubbing his thumb across the soft skin beneath his eyes. Draco sucked in a breath when Harry put his hand over Draco’s.
“It might not be routine, and everything will change after this,” Harry never looked away from Draco. “But can I kiss you?”
He nodded softly, a small smile playing on his lips as he leaned down to press his lips against Harry’s.
It was a quick kiss, over in a second. But it held eternity.
Then Draco pulled Harry into a hug, holding him tightly as he hide his face in the crook of Harry’s neck. Then he started laughing, quiet at first then grew as it shook his entire body.
“What?” Harry asked, pulling back slightly.
“You took my routine,” Draco said between laughs. “Now you’re taking my heart too.”
~~~~~~~~4 Years Later~~~~~~~~
The wedding was quiet. Only specific people were invited, close friends, family. It was beautiful. Draco decorated the Malfoy great hall for the reception, painting white doves on the ceiling surrounded by wispy clouds. The walls were painted with flower filled trees, wind blowing petals to dance across the room.
It was glorious.
As the days passed and the celebrations finally begun to die down, Draco and Harry walked around the Manor, taking in all the old and new paintings that had brightened the place. Draco showed Harry his lowest point, the spare bedroom explosion, to his highest, the library. They reminisced over Hogwarts Quidditch games as they walked down the hallway painted with figures on brooms zooming around, and the places they visited together as they walked past the Eiffel Tower painting on the door of Draco’s old bedroom.
Perhaps it was their love for each other that made them not realise it, but they’re both quite oblivious at the best of times. The signatures on each painting, “DM”, hidden in the corner of each wall, ceiling, hallway, door, window, and staircase had changed. Now, “DM-P” shone brightly.
“You’ve got absolutely everything, right, Draco?” Harry asked, eyes sweeping over the empty room.
“Of course, I do, Harry.” He held Harry’s hand and lifted it up to kiss it. “I have you.”
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meredith-and-lily · 5 years
Text
Chapter 1
This story starts with a floating girl, a book, and a memory. The girl and the book are in the memory, and though the battle starts much later, this is where the story starts.
Lily floated above her bed and furiously tore through the pages of her book, desperately wanting to reach the climax before dinner. As each word took hold, she was drawn further and further into the story and the world it created within her mind. She reached a particularly romantic scene and sighed as a random thought drifted across her mind. I could do that with Meredith.
This thought was startling enough to yank Lily out of her book and back into a reality where gravity decided to stop ignoring her. She crashed to the floor because she’d floated away from the bed during the last chapter. The first thing she was aware of was the book that she’d crushed under her in her flailing attempt to right herself midair. Then she became aware that her arm hurt - a lot.
Meredith dashed into the room. “I thought I heard a … are you ok?”
“Yep, totally fine,” Lily picked herself up off the floor. “I fell off the bed.”
“Fell off the bed or fell out of the air?”
Lily blushed. “The air. I was thinking something, but I can’t remember now.” She could remember perfectly well, but she did not feel inclined to share her thoughts with Meredith. “What were you doing?”
“Gardening,” Meredith was in charge of the Academy’s garden. She was the only one with a green thumb and she enjoyed being surrounded by quiet foliage.
“I shall, um, let you get back to that. Unless I can join you?”
“Sure,” Meredith did not mind the intrusion upon her space. In fact, she did not consider it intrusion at all. She and Lily complemented each other, though Lily was significantly more rambunctious, and they enjoyed gardening together. Lily couldn’t tell a carrot from cauliflower, but that didn’t matter.
The two passed an hour in near silence, broken only by the bad jokes they made up and told to each other. Lily had the relatively simple task of turning over the soil, so she didn’t need assistance. The silence between them wasn’t strained. They both felt comfortable enough that they didn’t need to fill perfectly good air with meaningless chatter.
At age 15, conversations are as varied as they are simultaneously serious and ridiculous. Opinions and values develop, dilemmas emerge, and abstract concepts must be grappled with. And imagination works at full steam, forgetting that childhood has gone, creating conversations with sentences that would confuse all but the one who spoke them.
This was true of Meredith and Lily, and sometimes the ridiculous and serious topics combined, and the girls would end up discussing the concept of ‘up’ and how the significance of ideas is determined by society as a whole while pretending to be upside down and hang from the bottom of the planet.
It is a rare thing to see a friendship that works so well as theirs did. They were complements but not synonyms, and their respective flaws were annoying, but not damaging. Lily once mentioned the concept of fate, because she thought that for them to be paired so perfectly couldn’t be chance, and Meredith agreed, but only silently.
The girls grew together and helped each other through their darkest times. There was a destructive period of two months where Meredith became obsessed with the meaningless of life and the actions we take. Lily held her when she cried, and helped her move on.
When they were both 17, Meredith asked Lily out. This was two years after Lily had had her startling thought about Meredith, but neither of them remembered that day. The memory is known only to the gods now, and us. Over the years, Meredith had taught Lily how to garden, and Lily had taught Meredith how to fly. One this particular day, the two were seated on the Academy roof, letting their conversation run its course. Meredith finished her statement and looked at Lily.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“This may sound strange, but would you, possibly like to go out with me?” Lily opened her mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say, so it hung there for a moment as Meredith continued. “I mean, I know there’s not many places we can go, because of the curfew and all, but it could still be a date, right?” Meredith started babbling, staring at the ground below her. Lily finally returned to her senses to realize that Meredith had been talking for at least two minutes, worried that Lily would reject her.
“You know what, just forget it. I’m sorry, I never meant to, but you’ve told me you’re gay, so I thought maybe. Just, I’m sorry.” Meredith stood to leave, hiding her face. Lily jumped to her feet, almost falling off the slanted tile.
“Wait!” A million thoughts ran through her head, about how Meredith shouldn’t fly down on her own, about how she’d been dreaming about this for years, about how Meredith should’ve asked sooner. All that came out of her mouth was a strangled “yes.” She swallowed. “Meredith, I’d really like to go out with you. I … I really like you,”
Meredith had been standing on the edge of the roof, ready to fly down and presumably never show her face again. “Are you sure?” Her tone betrayed her, giving voice to the doubt she felt.
Lily didn’t think about what she did next. She just ran at Meredith and hugged her tightly, knocking her off the roof in the process. Meredith panicked for a moment, but Lily calmed the winds around them and slowed their descent.
“So um, should we kiss? That seems stereotypical though, um, unless you want to …”
Meredith blushed. “Let’s save that for when it means something.”
Lily gulped and gently lowered her and Meredith to the ground. “So … dinner?”
Meredith nodded. “Dinner,” She grabbed Lily’s hand, and they ran to the Cafe, giggling like kids.
---
Lily lied in the dark, her cheeks red from the events of the evening. By now, the sun had set and everyone was in bed, but Lily couldn’t. She could hear Meredith snuffling in the other bed, and smiled into the dark. She flipped over onto her stomach, grabbed the pillow and squealed into it. She fell asleep imagining her and Meredith together at last.
---
When Lily opened her eyes, Meredith was sitting cross-legged on the end of her bed. Her head was bent over the pages of a book, her long fiery hair hanging down.
“Morning,” she yawned. Meredith looked up and smiled.
“Morning. We’ve got an Aqua later.”
Lily nodded. An Aqua was one of the tests their teachers sprung on them randomly, to test the parts of magic related to water. The magic taught at the academy was arranged by classical magic elements; water, earth, air, fire, death, ice, nature, and destiny. Air was Lily’s strong point, which was why she could fly so well. Water was not. Lily didn’t bother to ask how Meredith knew this. She’d gotten no answer for the past few years, and had just about given up.
“Do you know anything else?”
Meredith shook her head. Meredith was a girl of few words. She wasn’t shy, she just had better things to do with her thoughts than to engage in meaningless chatter.
“Frick” Lily flopped back onto her pillows. “This’ll be great,” Lily was in fact, quite competent in aquatic magic. She was one of the strongest witches of the generation and compared to some of her peers at the Academy, was stellar at it. But her weak point was water and had been for two years.
“I have an idea,” Lily sat up again. “You’re good at Aerial magic. Why not find a way to turn the water into something closer to that?”
Lily caught her brainwave instantly. “Turn to water into vapor, and use that!” Meredith smiled in response. “When did you come up with that?” Lily’s tone was grateful and inquisitive at the same time.
“I was just thinking.”
“Well, you’re a genius. C’mon, let’s not be late.”
The girls dressed; Lily in jeans and a white blouse and Meredith in a light blue dress. Then they pounded down the hallway, racing each other to the Cafe. They burst from the doors into the overcast day, Meredith in the lead. Lily spotted a rock and used it as a springboard to leap into the air, above Meredith’s head.
“No fair!” Meredith cried. She grinned and shot into the air herself, though not as gracefully. They zipped through the air, darting around each other like dragonflies. As they approached the Cafe, Lily began her descent. Meredith continued, wind whistling around her. Suddenly, she dropped like a stone. She fell through the air, until stopping herself a few feet above the roof.
Lily looked up at her, annoyed. In her opinion, flight should be respected and used properly, not as a game.
“I hate it when you do that.”
Meredith just smiled. “You love me.”
The girls walked into the Cafe and sat down by one of the windows. The Cafe had been grown by one of the Nature witches and had light walls made of tree trunks wedged together. The windows were made in conjunction between the Terra and Pyro witches, and had bright colors dying some, making art out of others. The table Lily and Meredith sat at was a dark green plant with huge leaves for the top. Meredith twirled her fingers as they sat down, and the plant sprouted red and white spider lilies.
Riane, who’d already been in the Cafe for half an hour, was not-so-subtly waiting for them to enter so she could get all the latest news. She, Lily and Meredith were good friends, although their relationship wasn’t as close as Meredith and Lily. As soon as she saw Meredith bloom the flowers, she made a beeline to their table and sat down.
“Soooo … what’s new with you two?”
“Do you know there’s an Aqua later?” Lily diverted.
“Don’t change the subject. A little birdie told me that you finally asked Meredith out,”
“Has Carl been gossiping again? And what do you mean, finally?”
“Come on! It’s been obvious since ever! Also, no, it was Tyler,” None of the birds on the property actually had names, but it had become a running joke a couple of months ago and hadn’t died since. “So? Yes or no? Is Merily a thing?”
“I’ve already told you, I prefer Lildith, and we’ll see,” Lily and Riane continued chatting for some time. Lily gradually became aware that Meredith hadn’t said anything. She turned her body to where Meredith was staring into space. “Hey, you ok?”
“I’m fine,” Meredith’s reply was directed at the wall. Lily bit her lip.
“You sure?”
“I said, so didn’t I?” Riane looked between the two of them, suddenly confused.
“I’m going to go get some food,” She stood up awkwardly and moved a couple of tables over. As she did she glanced at them a couple of times but soon lost herself in a different conversation.
“Seriously, what’s up?”
“Well, apparently, the entire Academy expects us to date, and it’s not like you bothered to correct Riane when she assumed that you asked me out!” Meredith’s outburst wasn’t loud but drew some curious glances from nearby tables. She glanced around and lowered her voice, “Isn’t this supposed to be an us thing? Why does everyone else have to be involved?”
Lily scowled. “I get that you’re a private person, ok? But what does it matter what they think? They can think what they like. They’re not involved unless you make a deal out of it.”
Meredith snorted. “Well, isn’t this a good omen,” she remarked dryly.
“You know what, fine. You’re right, they shouldn’t care. But they do. What do you expect me to do?”
Meredith softened her expression. “I wonder how Riane even knew,” she remarked. As she spoke, she twirled her fingers and the decidedly non-citrus plant that formed their table somehow produced a few oranges. She picked the miraculous plants and tossed one across the table.
Lily snatched it out of midair and smiled. “Guess we have some fans. I suppose me knocking you off a building is pretty obvious.”
“You’ve done that in the past. Doesn't mean anything,”
“Then we shall have to ask her later. For now, do you know what time the Aqua is?”
Meredith shook her head. The girls sat in silence, munching on their oranges. Once they finished, they walked outside again. Lily tried to grab a yogurt container behind Meredith’s back, using some of the Aerial magic. Meredith didn’t turn when the breeze rustled past her, but she did address Lily as she strode out of the Cafe.
“Grab me some toast,”
Lily did so, smiling sheepishly.
“You have to be less obvious.” Lily joined Meredith outside. “Also, eat less yogurt,”
“Hey, yogurt is good,” Lily protested.
“I thought you were vegan,” Meredith raised an eyebrow.
Lily scarfed down the rest of the container and vanished it in midair, transforming it into a strawberry-scented patch of air. “No proof now,”
Meredith giggled, and started walking toward one of the fields surrounding the Academy. Once they reached the field, Lily stuck out her hand and flicked her fingers. A small fountain of water sprouted from the stalks of grass. She grimaced and increased the stream to a faster pace. Once she had a large amount hovering in the air, she cut off the water and molded the water into a large bubble.
Meredith smiled, and lifted her hand toward the water, and slowly moved her arm to the left. The water followed and Lily frowned. She reached out her other hand and jerked the water away. It shot backward and came to a screeching halt. The quick stop caused some water to detach from the main bubble, and it promptly fell onto Lily’s head.  
Lily shivered and lobbed the water at Meredith. Over 100 gallons of water fell through the air, and she panicked. A bolt of fire shot out of her hand, sizzling when it met the water and creating steam. The extremely hot steam rose toward the sky and Lily looked at Meredith.
“You can’t use Pyro in an Aqua,”
“I can use it to keep from getting drenched,”
“Not fair! I’m soaking,”
“I don’t need to practice raising and lowering the temperature of water,” Meredith smiled while Lily laughed for a moment.
“Fine, you win,” Lily laughed. She scrunched up her face and concentrated for a moment. Wisps of steam rose from her shirt. After a minute or two she opened her eyes and pinched her shirt. Still wet.
“Let me try,” Meredith fixed her gaze on Lily’s chocolate colored hair. The water heated into a mass of steam which lifted Lily’s hair into the air. Lily reached up and felt her — now frizzy — hair.
“Woah. You’re good at this,”
Meredith smiled modestly.
“How are you so good at this?”
Meredith’s smile became more mysterious. “Let’s just say I’ve practiced a lot.”
“Why would you bother?” Lily asked, slowing each word as she tried to comprehend Meredith's reasoning.  
“I’m focusing on changing things from solids to liquids and back,”
“Like water to ice. Combining Aqua and Cryo magic?”
“Think bigger,”
“Um, glaciers?”
“You could transform anything into air, water, and earth. Anything,” Meredith stared pointedly at Lily.
“Would that include people?”
“Would I tell you?”
At that moment, Lily’s mouth dropped open. “No!”
“Yes,”
“That’s how you get around so fast and know so much about what’s happening. You turn yourself into, I dunno, a pile of dirt or some air, and then you can just listen to people! Genius,”
“I prefer the aesthetic of mist, but you know…” Meredith stopped talking when Lily punched her in the arm.
“Oh, my gods. That’s amazing,”
“Which ones?” Meredith replied. Lily stared at her.
“Which ones what?”
“Which gods,”
“Alaz’s eyes. All of them. This is monumental! Does anyone else know you can do this?” Lily asked, an intense expression transforming her features.
“Not as of yet, unless you keep yelling,”
“Fine, fine,” Lily relented. “I’m calm. I’m cool. All’s good, but still. Wow,”
Meredith smiled goofily. “Thanks. Now, your turn,” Meredith and Lily spent the morning practicing, until Lily was proficient. By then, the sun was high in the sky and it was time for the Aqua. They and other girls at the Academy congregated at the Arena, located in a field across the Academy grounds.
The Arena was separated into different sections for each of the magic types, with a general purpose area connecting the different areas. This Aqua was only for the most advanced witches, both for students at the Academy and other members of the Authorian who were seeking to raise their status/skill level.
The Authorian kept their base in the middle of the woods. It contained the Academy for new witches to train and places for the graduated members of the Authorian to live. The Academy itself contained barracks for the girls to live, the Cafe to eat, the Arena to train, and a set of classrooms to learn about Ermia, the world they lived in.
The schedule of the Academy was separated by weeks and repeated monthly. The first week was used for training and classes for the different types of magic. Then the second week was focused on fitness and combat. The girls learned self-defense and how to use a number of weapons, training them to be fit enough to fight or run if necessary. The third week centered around book studies, in subjects such as magical lore, history, and studying the different species that lived on Ermia. The remaining days of the month were used for testing the girls on what they’d learned and assessing their current skill levels. The girls were also expected to practice during the off weeks in each subject to keep their skills.
Out of the three subjects, Riane was the athletic one, Meredith the bookish one, and Lily was undoubtedly the best at Magic. Riane normally wouldn’t be at this Aqua because she wasn’t at the level of skill as Meredith and Lily. However, she’d recently shot ahead in her Aqua magic and was able to join them.
There were about ten people waiting to be tested in total. Four were part of the Academy and three older witches. All seven were wearing blue robes, indicating they’d focused their power on perfecting their Aqua magic. Riane, Lily, and Meredith were wearing the Magenta robes showing that they hadn’t chosen a focus yet.
That interesting fact was what made the three so powerful. They had about equal aptitude in each type of Magic, while all the other witches at their skill level were equals in that area but much lower in others.
In an Aqua, the participants would enter the water area of the area to test, with their peers waiting outside. While waiting, the witches were not allowed to practice so as to not interrupt the test. Lily couldn’t prepare, so she used this opportunity to ask Riane some questions. She grabbed Riane’s attention and they started chatting.  
“Hey! Congrats on making it to the final Aqua,” This level of Aqua was the last one, and upon completion resulted in an Aqua Gold qualification. All the witches trying for Aqua Gold today already had earned Aqua Silver, an admirable rating itself. It usually took a while to pass each test, and make it to the next test. Meredith had been trying for Aqua Gold for a few months, and Lily for almost a year.
“Thanks,” Riane replied. “Who knows, maybe I’ll become an Aqua witch,”
“I think that’d suit you. But, more seriously, how’d you know Meredith asked me out?”
Riane pointedly started at a tree to Lily’s left and went mute. Her expression was unreadable, much to Lily’s chagrin.
“Seriously. How’d you know?”
Meredith was staring at the ground now. Lily didn’t notice.
“Were you spying on us? I’m not kidding, how’d you find out?” Her tone was aggravated, but Riane wasn’t budging. The air was tense for several seconds until Meredith broke it.
“I asked her for advice on how I should do it,” Lily looked at Meredith, and deflated.
“Oh, okay. I’m sorry, Riane,”
“It’s fine.” Riane smiled. “I just didn’t want to rat out Meredith. You’re good,”
Lily stood there awkwardly. Then the girls all flinched when a voice called out.
“Riane Yaney?” The administrator, an Aqua Gold named Zara directed her to the test.
Lily and Meredith were left standing there.
“I hope she does okay,”
“She will,” Meredith agreed. “She’s done Gold tests before. She’s a Pyro Silver, remember?”
“Yeah. So, you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be. You?”
“Gods, I hope so,” Lily took a deep breath. “I’m so done with this test. It’s been forever,”
“You were so fast moving through all the other tests. And you have a Gold in like everything else.”
“Except Eco. You wouldn’t happen to know when the next Eco is?”
“Sometime this week, but aside from that, I’ve got no idea. So you’ve got like 4 days to prepare,” Weeks were 5 days long on Ermia, and months were anywhere from 18 to 26 days long. This resulted in irregular schedules, but the number of days in each month corresponded to the god that that month was for, so it couldn’t be changed.
“I’ll do well there. I’m so close! And you are too!”
“I need Aqua, Cryo, and Destiny. Then I’ll be Gold all round,”
“You have those in the bag. Oh, gods. I’m nervous.” Lily opened her mouth to say something else, but Zara called out again.
“Meredith Wurtin?”
“Good luck!” Lily shot a thumbs up at Meredith as she walked away. They wouldn’t see each other until after Lily tested, so they’d all learn their results at the same time. She took a few deep breaths and waited as the area gradually emptied. She was the last one left, and she could feel her heart rate increasing as Zara called.
“Lily Pangin?”
Lily walked toward her, trying to contain her nerves.
“Maybe this’ll be it, huh?”
“Hopefully,” Lily replied. She entered the water area and took stock. It was a patch of dirt and nothing else. In the lower levels, they’d have ponds to work with, but here there was nothing. In the Gold Aqua, each of the witches had to extract as much water as possible from the ground, and control it as well as possible, performing tasks as directed by the administrator. In this case, Zara.
This time, Lily didn’t wait for Zara’s instructions and simply raised her hands to the sky. All the water contained within the dirt flew up into the air in tiny streams creating what could only be described as an inverse bubble the size of a house. This was normal for Lily, but this time, she cooled the air around the bubble, adding to its size. It grew so that it was larger than a barn.
Lily shifted her hands so the water formed a flat disc, then a thin cylinder sticking into the sky, and finally a perfect square.
Zara raised her eyebrow. “Can you hollow it?” Lily gradually shifted the water from the center to the outside of the bubble, forming another sphere. “Rain?”
Lily let drops of water fall, bit by bit. This was her hardest trick. Usually, she’d drop too much water, get flustered, and drop it all. She focused all her energy on keeping the swirling mass in the air. She didn’t notice when Zara told her to stop until Zara tapped her on the shoulder.
“Good. Can you make it a wave and lift yourself up?”
Lily moved the water over her head, creating an impressive waterfall that scooped her up and shot her into the air. For a brief moment, she lost control. She gritted her teeth and regained power over the water. She balanced on a column of water that sloshed around Zara’s feet and looked down.
“Shoot the targets!” Zara yelled up, and pointed at some trees that’d been painted yellow. The paint was special in that the more waterlogged it got, the darker the color. This exercise would’ve been easy for Lily, but she was unused to the volume of water she was dealing with. Her first shot splashed the tree she was aiming for but also the two next to it, and she dropped two feet as her support disappeared.
Her next blast was more controlled, but she was still unprepared for the drop, this time closer to 5 feet as the tree turned jet black immediately.
“Keep going!” Zara encouraged.
Lily yelled and shot each of the remaining trees perfectly until the final tree was dark as night. She tried to lower herself down to ground level, but in one terrifying, heart-stopping moment the water finally rebelled against her and she fell the remaining distance to the ground. She hit the water and the world went black.
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wayward-and-worn · 6 years
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Hunter Care Network – Chapter 1
Pairing: Dean x Reader x Sam (later chapters)
Summary: Sam and Dean find out what Garth has been up to when Sam gets badly hurt during a hunt and ends up in a hospital.  
Sam has a hole in his gut from getting speared, Dean took a decent shot to the face but doesn’t trust the nurse that seems to know more than they do.
Chapter Rating: PG
Series Rating: XXX, Mature (oh, they will get together. Stick with me.)
Regardless of rating, this is an 18+ ONLY blog.  
Chapter Word Count: 1910
Warnings:  I will try to give warnings per chapter.  None for this one.    
Note: Please don’t steal my writing.  I worked hard on it.  My work cannot be reproduced or posted by anyone without my express, written consent.
ALSO:  I have an issue with tense.  Please forgive me.
Series Masterlist
“Come here and let me stitch that.  It’s far too close to your eye for my comfort.”
Dean crossed the space between the nurse and his brother to stand closer to Sam.  “I’ll be fine.  I’ve had worse.”
“Look, if it gets infected it can be a real bad deal and affect your sight!”  She stood with her hands on her hips.  “What good is a hunter with one eye?”
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That got him.  He brushed at the weeping wound above his eye and wiped it on his jeans.  Dean then licked his lips and leaned towards her, “Hunters? No, this was a car wr-,”
Placing her hand on his chest and gently pushing him down into the chair next to his brother’s bed, she gripped his chin, tipping his face up to hers. His emerald eyes shone with surprise, then resistance.  “I’m sure it was.  But if I had to bet, you’re the Winchesters.”  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sam bolt up so fast, he damn near fell out of the bed.  
“What?!”  Sam half gasped as the pain in his abdomen hit.  “Who are…” He began as Dean was slyly reaching to his waist for his gun.
Stepping back with her hands up, “Easy boy.”  She chided.  “We’re allies.  Here to keep you off the radar, and alive.  Whole whenever possible.”
“How do you know us?”  Dean was holding his hand on what she assumed was the butt of his gun.  He studied her carefully trying to figure out what breed of monster she was, no doubt.  
“Garth.”  She stated plainly.
“Garth?!”  In unison. Wow, she thought, they really do that.
“Yes, he started this… health care network a few years ago.  There are a number of us that work in different cities near supernatural hotspots and we work to patch hunters up.  If you’d call him once in a while, he’d have told you about it.”  An alarm went off in the hallway.  A code emergency.  “Look,” she rushed to the curtain blocking them off from the rest of the emergency room, “Call the huggy little twerp.  He’ll explain everything.  I can tell you more tonight after shift.  Sam, your room will be warded.  Heavily. Please, “she put extra emphasis on the word, “let them move you just for tonight.  You,” her eyes focused back on the elder Winchester, “We are not done.” With a flourish of the curtain she was gone.
As soon as she was out of sight, Dean wiped at his damaged eye again and stood, “Alright, we’re out of here.”  He turned to pull the blanket away from Sam.  “Come on…”  He waited for Sam to hop out of the bed and looked up, puzzled when he didn’t move.
“Dean, let’s call Garth first.  If he can’t back her up, we’re gone.  But I gotta tell you man, there is a good sized hole in my abdomen and I’m in a lot of hurt here and a rest would probably be a good thing. “   He smiled gratefully as Dean reluctantly pulled out his phone and dialed.
The call with Garth was considerably longer than they would have liked, but Garth was more than willing to explain.  She was telling the truth.  “It’s the HCN!”  He’d proudly proclaimed.  “Hunter Care Network!”  They even had membership cards.  At this news, Dean produced the mother of all eye rolls; which promptly produced pulse of pain in the raging headache above his eye.    
True to her word, Sam’s room was extremely well warded.  The room was also on a low floor near the stairway. Plenty of ways for them to get away if they needed to.  Dean had to admit that he was feeling a little better about her.  
She’d finally returned to them after Sam had ordered dinner.  She was dressed in street clothes.  Jeans and a plain black sweatshirt.  “Sorry it took so long,” she absently reached into the box of gloves by the door and pulled a small kit from her backpack.  As she approached Dean, he put his hands straight out in front of himself to stop her.  
He took a few steps backwards, “Look, I really appreciate the offer, but I told you, I really don’t – oof!”  His legs hit the back of the easy chair in the room and as soon as he hit the surface, she’d straddled his lap.  A moment passed before he realized his outstretched hands were cupping her breasts.  Widening his eyes, he raised his hands straight up in the air like he was being told to freeze.  Sam couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him.  “Shut up Sam!  Look,” he barked, “I – OW!”
She’d placed a square of gauze against the wound.  She then pulled it away and showed it to him.  “It’s been almost seven hours.  The wound is still weeping and it’s not just blood anymore. It’s infected.”  She held the sickly yellow and red patch up to Dean’s good eye as well as showing it to Sam.  “I’d be willing to bet your brother’s left nut that you’re not seeing real good out of that eye right now either.”
“Why does it have to be mine?”  Sam sassed.  
“Cuz I use mine more.”  Dean quipped.  
She continued, clenching her thighs around Dean’s legs, surprisingly strong.  “Now there are a lot of ways for me to put myself in your lap, Dean Winchester but this is not one of the good ones.  Let me help you.  Please.”
“Dean,” Sam began.
“Alright!’  Dean barked. “Can I put my arms down now?”
“You never had to put them up.”  She said lightly, pulling out a bottle of blue fluid and some more gauze, she went to work.  As she did, she turned halfway to Sam, “So, what blanks can I fill in?”  Dean lowered his arms, still not sure of where to put them, he wound up resting them on her thighs.  Because to use the arms of the chair was boring.    
“How do you guys protect us?”  Sam began.  “I understand recognizing some of us, but as a general rule, we do try to blend in. “        
“Yeah, and stay out of hospitals in general.” Dean interjected, “Is there like a secret handshake or something?”  His eyes were closed, hands still, except for his thumbs absently stroking her inner thighs.  The splitting headache he’d had since they came in was finally subsiding and whatever she was using on his face was cool and soothing.  Like aloe, but more tingly.  He hoped that she would tell him before she stabbed him in the face with her needle.
“Honestly, I saw your tattoo, Sam, when you rolled in.  Dean was damn near in the stretcher with you and almost took out the orderlies when they tried to get him to wait in reception. It wasn’t hard after that. Otherwise, the answer of “car accident with puncture to abdomen, passenger” usually sets off a red flag to any of us.  
 Silence fell for a few moments.  Then she ripped off her gloves, placed both hands on Dean’s chest and stood up.  “All done.”  She was a little sad inside at the loss of the hunter’s warmth; and the erection she’d caused.  
“Done?”  He gingerly touched the cut, looking up at her, pure confusion on his rugged face. The first thing he noticed after the blessed absence of headache was that the haze that had been plaguing the eye all day was gone.  He hopped up and stepped into the bathroom to the mirror.  He saw the perfect, thin sutures were dotting his eyebrow.  He was certain that when this was over, he wouldn’t even have a scar.  It even looked like it was already healing.  “I didn’t even feel that!”  He turned to her, standing at the foot of Sam’s bed, looking back at him with amusement on her face.  A genuine smile split his handsome face, “Thank you.”  
She nodded subtly, “next time, don’t fight me so much.”
He shrugged, “I wasn’t really trying.”
“Neither was I.”
They stared at each other until Sam cleared his throat.  Suddenly all eyes were on him.  “So, what else happens with the HCN?”
“Well, most hunter’s records and billing tend to disappear. Hospitals can have such unreliable systems.  Police rarely get past the desk unless they have Donna or Jody level clearance. “
“Jody and Donna have levels?  What does that—“ Dean stopped himself, pinched the bridge of his nose and sat back down.  “Never mind. Garth…Please go on.”
“We have some enhanced technologies to help healing and sometimes someone pushes a little money our way so we can keep up.”  She moved back to the door and grabbed another set of gloves. This time moving to Sam’s bedside. She pulled back the covers and started poking gently at Sam’s wound.  Sam watched her wordlessly.  She covered the wound with the palm of her bare hand.  He felt a light tingling as she nodded and moved away.
Sam’s dinner arrived just then.  Dean practically tackled the poor guy as he carried in the tray.  “Dean.  MY dinner.” He whined.
“Dean!”  She scolded. “We have a cafeteria.”  Turning to Sam, “About your dinner.  There is an herb in it.  Specifically the soup.”  She grinned at their reactions.  Disbelief and maybe some horror, “it’s going to help you heal faster so you won’t be walking time-bombs when you bail out tomorrow.  However, I need you to please stay in the room.  This stuff is going to make you high.  Like drunk high.”
“Gimmie.”  Dean reached for the spoon as Sam swatted him away.
“No, yours is in the stitches.  You’re unaffected, since you haven’t ingested it.  The affect level can vary.  Sam, you may be just fine, but I can’t have you waving your junk at the rest of the floor. There are people here with weak hearts. Ok?”
“I’m eating the soup.”  Sam was already shoveling soup into his mouth while Dean watched with envy.  She admired the handsome brothers for a moment before she turned towards the door.  “Oh, she turned back into the room and approached Sam.  Handing him a card, she said, “This is me.  Cell, and my addresses if you ever need me.  I can usually get to you within a couple of hours to less than a day.”
She swung her backpack over her shoulder and headed towards the door.  “I’m your very own medic now.  Garth has assigned me to you.  Use me.  Don’t use me.  But please don’t bail until at least morning.  The rest is taken care of.  Good luck.”  With that, she was gone.
Honestly, she could kill Garth for giving her the Winchesters.  Sure, she’d told him that her post was too easy but seriously?  They drove the angels themselves to drink.  What’s stronger than the patience of a saint?  Plus, they were too good looking to even exist.  She was doomed. 
Maybe they wouldn’t call.  She could only hope.
They were long gone by the time she came on shift the next day.  The system was working fine as no-one seemed to be aware that they were ever there at all.  Except for one patient near Sam’s room that complained about the “awful rendition of Dead or Alive.”  Only a couple of other network nurses gave their condolences upon hearing she was assigned.  “Nothing kills those two.  You’re theirs for-ev-errrr.”
“Shut up!”
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tarysande · 6 years
Text
Fic Update: Any Four Walls: Pantomime
Also on AO3
#
Pantomime
When she installed herself on the flight deck, Joker only nodded and offered a brief grunt of greeting. If she hadn’t already known how distraught he was, that grunt would’ve been a dead giveaway. His hands flew over the haptic interface, adjusting their approach vector just enough—she hoped—to give them a moment of surprise. Kaidan sat at the station to Joker’s right, manning communications. For a moment, she saw the slightly-different cockpit of a different Normandy and half-expected the voice of a dead man to summon her over the comms.
Instead, Joker hissed an expletive that would have shocked even Jack and said, “We’ve got a situation.”
She leaned over his shoulder, scanning the stars. There. The ship was small against the vastness of space, looking like a toy discarded by a child when something newer and shinier came along.
No.
She couldn’t think about children.
“Kaidan?”
“Sorry, Shepard.” His hands were moving now, too. “No—there. It’s sending out an SOS. Turian frequency. Pretty weak.”
“Is it the Enixus?”
She already knew, though. Kaidan’s nod only confirmed what her gut was screaming.
They drew near enough to see the atmosphere venting into the dark from a gash in the ship’s starboard side.
“Life signs?”
“Too much interference.”
She remained locked in parade rest because what she really wanted to do was punch something. A wall. The piece of equipment whose news was always bad. “Of course.” When she had the urge for violence under control, she said, “Bring us in quiet, Joker. I’m going over.”
Kaidan turned in the seat, fixing her with his dark, too-perceptive gaze. “We are.”
“Everyone likes to forget my background. N7 Infiltrator, remember? In and out, no biotic explosions necessary.”
But Kaidan was already rising, expression as close to mutinous as she’d ever seen it. “Garrus said you’d try and pull something like this, you know. I thought you’d consider how long you’ve been off active duty and go with common sense.”
“If you’re suggesting I stay—”
He held up a hand to stop her. She added his face to her list of things she’d consider punching, though his words went some little way to redeeming him. “I wouldn’t dare, Shepard. I mean that. But we have no idea what’s going on over there. Don’t go in alone.”
Joker hunched in his seat as if pretending a Spectre showdown wasn’t happening above his head. Shepard sighed. “You gonna question every decision I make, Alenko?”
“Only the stupid ones. Ma’am.”
A very, very faint smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. “Fair enough. Suit up, Alenko. And find Jack.”
“And Garrus?”
She shook her head. Kaidan winced. “I’ll talk to him.”
#
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You almost died a few—”
“Don’t,” he snapped.
Shepard crossed her armored arms over her chest, meeting her husband glare for glare even though she had to crane her neck a bit to do it.
“Do you honestly want me to pull rank here, Shepard? Is that it?”
“No,” she said. “I want you to run the op from the ship.”
“You want me to sit on the sidelines. They’re my kids.” The way his voice broke nearly broke her resolve; she had to look away.
“Garrus,” she said, softly.
“Don’t Garrus me. Not about this.”
“Fine.” She brought the heels of her hands up to her eyes and pressed hard enough to momentarily see stars. “I need you on my six.”
“That’s more like it.”
Lowering her hands, she said, “That’s here. On the ship. Running the op. Waiting for Liara’s intel. And manning the Thanix as only you can if the bastards try and pull something that needs the big guns. Which they probably will.”
“Because this is obviously a trap.”
“Obviously.”
He shook his head, but not in disagreement. That fight had gone out of him the second she said on my six. He took a step toward her. She took two, wrapping her arms tight around him. One of his hands cupped the back of her head gently. “I hate it when you’re right.”
Shepard snorted. “Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual.”
“You told Alenko you were going in alone?”
She said nothing. Didn’t have to.
He brought the side of his face to the top of her head and nuzzled it. “Bring our kids home, Shepard. I’ll watch your back.”
#
Shepard wasn’t sure what it said about her that all her nerves and anger and panic settled the second her boots hit the floor. The weight of her gun grounded her. Despite Kaidan’s—and even Garrus’—fears, having a mission with a clear objective focused her. Get in, get out. Rescue mission. Keep a low profile.
She’d done dozens of these over the years.
And Aratoht didn’t count.
They’d entered through the gash in the side of the ship instead of aiming for the airlock; no use announcing themselves before they had to. She gestured silently and Kaidan arced out to her left, omni already up and scanning, in case proximity could provide better readings. Behind his mask, his brows furrowed. She didn’t need the shake of his head to know he’d had no luck.
She clipped her pistol to her side and peered through the scope of her rifle. The thermal scope picked up Kaidan and Jack’s signatures, but couldn’t see through the walls.
Good walls, then. She frowned. Traders usually dropped their credits protecting the exterior of their ships; having the kind of interior walls that could defy an even more top-of-the-line thermal scope than one could currently find even on the blackest of markets—unless they, too, were personal friends of Solana Vakarian—smacked of paranoia. At the very least.
She brought up her own omni, then, and ran the scanning program that had gone not only through Solana, but through Tali and Garrus and herself, as well. Like the scope, it read the current room clearly—the surveillance camera over the door was obvious; the three different bugs running on completely different frequencies, less so—but everything outside was dampened.
Using signals instead of words, even on their private frequencies, Shepard directed Kaidan to one side of the door and Jack to the other.
Shepard knew damn well that her omni-tool was fitted with the best tech money (and connections) could buy, and then some.
It still took her decryption program an agonizingly long time to crack the door’s code.
Definitely a trap.
Definitely not just traders.
Shepard activated her cloak the moment the door began to slide open, waiting for the immediate attack that never came. After a slow count of five, she ducked into the corridor. Lights flickered above, casting half the hallway into stark shadows, but no one waited for them. No shots pinged off her shields. Kaidan and Jack followed as soon as her tactical cloak shimmered and vanished. Once again, scanning revealed nothing. An empty hallway; walls that kept their secrets close.
No cover.
No debris at all.
Her frown deepened. Any attack that could leave damage like the destruction of the room behind them should’ve had more of an effect elsewhere. Even with impenetrable walls. She began flicking through frequencies until she found the one the ship was using to send out its weak cry for help. After listening to the generic SOS three times, her earpiece crackled. Music, loud enough to cause pain, blasted. Fighting the instinct to shut it off completely, she turned it down as much as she could.
The melody was familiar. Human, definitely. Something full of pomp and military bravado.
She went cold when she recognized it.
A very particular anthem. One rarely heard. One she’d heard twice. Once after Elysium. Once after—after everything that had happened later.
One she’d tried to avoid hearing both times.
They played it when they bestowed the Star of Terra. Only then.
Jack touched her arm; Shepard shook her head, tapping the side of her helmet and signaling them to wait. She didn’t miss the look Jack and Kaidan exchanged.
When the last triumphant note roared and faded, the desperate, wailing cry of a child replaced it.
Her child.
“Rose? Rose?”
But Rose wasn’t the child who answered. With the screaming still raw in the background, Tyrra, breathless, subharmonics practically screaming her terror, said, “Sh-shepard? Shepard? Is that—you have to—they’re going to—she promised she’d give Rose back—I don’t know—I don’t know what they’re doing to her!”
“Shh, honey,” Shepard said. She didn’t brush off Jack’s hand this time, though she did signal for Kaidan to keep his eyes on the scanner. “Where are you? I’m here. I’m coming to get you.”
Tyrra began to speak again, but was replaced Matta Casarus’ harsh whisper. “Admiral Shepard? Thank the Spirits. They’ve got us pinned—”
“Cut the shit,” Shepard snapped. “I’m here. Just like you wanted. Walked into your elaborate little pantomime, just like you wanted. If you don’t release my daughters immediately, I will kill you. Do you understand me? I will put a bullet in every body that stands between me and them. Without mercy.”
Casarus’ voice changed at once. Cold, smooth. Too smooth. “This is how Earth breeds heroes, then? I prefer turian ones. They understand honor.”
Shepard inhaled sharply. “Is that what this is? You’re torturing my kid to prove some kind of point? I don’t know what the fuck I ever did to you, lady, but if—”
“You killed someone important to me. As important to me as these foundlings are to you. More important.”
Her stomach twisted. She ignored it. “Then take it up with me. They’re innocent. They are innocent. Let them go and you can have me. No contest. No fight.”
Even the woman’s laugh was cold. Bitter as the wind on Noveria. “So noble. No wonder they love you.” Casarus sighed. As if she was bored. With Rose screaming. “You said it yourself, Shepard. It’s pantomime. It’s theatre. Time to give the audience what they want.”
Before she could do more than open her mouth to reply, the line went dead. Rose’s cries stopped so abruptly, Shepard clapped her hand to the side of her head, as if this would bring her closer, tell her where to go.
“What the fuck, Shepard,” Jack breathed.
“Can we get a message back to the Normandy?”
Kaidan shook his head.
Shepard swallowed, shuffling plans in her head and rejecting them before they could finish forming. “Then we move. She’s already proven she’ll hurt the children. We have to hit them harder and faster than they expect.” Shepard lifted her Widow. “Jack. Point. Don’t hold back. Make them show their faces so I can remove them.”
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Princes and Princesses - Part 3
Summary: Sequel to Kings and Queens. | Actor AU | Emma is finally getting used to life in the spotlight, thanks to hit TV show Kings and Queens. She has many people to help her along the way; her son, her friends and her boyfriend, Killian Jones. But changes are going to have to be made on Kings and Queens, and the world she’s getting used to is about to turn upside down, leaving her questioning if she ever really understood it at all.
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Part 1 | Part 2
Read Kings and Queens.
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Chapter Three
It takes Emma far too long to get ready for her date. She's never been too bothered about her appearance, but tonight she spends hours in front of the mirror trying to make herself look perfect. She's already applied winged eyeliner, but she's not sure about the lipstick. Red lipstick might make her lips far more kissable, but it isn't really practical to wear for a meal. Especially since Emma is planning to order the ribs and she's already starving.
For food, or for Killian? She does not know.
She curls her hair. It's her favourite way to wear it, but it always takes too damn long. But the hours spent in front of the mirror tonight are totally worth it, as long as she receives that jaw-dropping expression she longs to see.
She decides on a backless dress. The idea is to seduce, and she's certainly on the right track. It's red, skin tight, and doesn't leave much to the imagination. She matches it with red heels, and decides to go with the lipstick.
What the hell, she thinks. She applies it generously.
"Mom, wow," Henry says, watching her as she emerges out of the bathroom, heels clicking against the wooden flooring. "You look amazing."
"Thanks." She swipes her purse from where she'd left it on the sofa. "When's Regina coming?"
"She should be here any minute."
Sure enough, the doorbell rings. Henry rushes to get it returns to the living room with Regina at his heels. She looks exhausted; eyes red-rimmed and face colourless. There's a dusting of flour on her black skirt. She must have been working all day at the pie shop.
She does a double take when she sees Emma.
"You clean up nice. Killian won't be able to keep his eyes off you," she says. "Hopefully he'll stop drooling long enough to eat something."
"Thanks." She rolls her eyes, but she struggles to keep the smile off her face. Compliments from Regina are few and far between, as rare as diamonds. She needs to take when she can get them. She turns to Henry. "Go get your stuff, kid."
"Sure, mom!"
He runs off up the stairs.
Regina crosses the room in a matter of strides and lowers her voice. "I take it you don't want me to bring Henry back… tonight?"
She does her best not to blush. "Probably for the best."
"Be careful, Emma." Her lips curl into a slow, cat-like smile. "The media would have a field day if a baby Swan came on the scene."
Emma gave her a look. "I'm not gonna get pregnant, Regina."
"I know. I'm saying just… be careful."
"I'm not some teenager."
"I know. But still."
Emma shakes her head with another eyeroll, but drops it. Regina means well. It's best to take her advice with a pinch of salt and a smile, and let her get on with it.
Henry comes back into the room, a rucksack slung over his shoulders. He encases Emma in a long, almost bone-crushing hug before he leaves, and tells her to have a great time. She gives a final wave of farewell as he exits the house with Regina.
They close the door behind them and then it's just her. Alone. In the house. Waiting for Killian.
Her heart jolts inside her chest. She places a hand over it, hoping to calm herself, but it doesn't work. She tries to busy herself by checking her purse and then checking again. She re-curls a few strands of hair, reapplies her lipstick and spritzes herself with perfume.
Finally, after what seems like hours, the doorbell rings. Her heart gives another one of those uncomfortable jolts. She jumps up from the sofa, grabs her purse, and leaps across the room. She grabs her shawl from the peg in the hallway. Before she knows it, before she can stop herself - or allow herself to chicken out - she's pulling the door open and there, in front of her, stands Killian Jones.
Her jaw drops. He looks gorgeous. Well, he always looks gorgeous, but this night is certainly no exception. He wears a purple shirt unbuttoned down to reveal the length of his neck and his collarbone. Her eyes linger too long on the skin, pale beneath the porch lights and rapidly darkening sky.
"You look-" she begins.
"I know. And you look-"
"I know."
They smirk at each other. And then Killian extends a hand which she takes, swallowing down her fear and her neves.
Killian
Killian takes them to a restaurant where he's sure they won't be spotted. It's a quaint little place, with red bricks and fairy lights all the way around the outside. It isn't flashy or too expensive, which he hopes Emma will appreciate. When it comes to money and fame, she's a simple woman. She doesn't do well with grand, flashy gestures. Graham should have learned that— he saw where he took her on her date.
But that's neither here nor there. He and Graham have buried the hatchet, so to speak. Killian no longer thinks about gouging out his eyes, or accidentally slicing off his hand when they're rehearsing with swords, but instead, offers him polite smiles whenever he sees him.
Emma appreciates that too, he's sure.
To his relief, Emma mentions that she adores the restaurant. Not because it's flashy - again, he's not that type of man and Emma isn't that type of woman - but because it has a warm feeling. It reminds him of home, of that quaint little English town he and his brother grew up in. It reminds him of his mother.
All of this he keeps to himself, of course.
After being led to a table by a young waiter, he takes Emma's shawl. She didn't bother with a coat, knowing it's too hot for one even at this time of night, but instead went with a red shawl that matches the beautiful design she's wearing tonight.
And truly, it is a sight to behold. The front of it closely follows the curve of her waist and hips. Strappy sleeves give him view of her sculpted arms. Then she turns and he sees that it is, indeed, backless. That's when his knees go weak.
He struggles for something to say for the next fifteen minutes.
If he had gone with what his heart wanted, he probably could have dragged her back into her house, locked the door behind them and stuffed the bloody restaurant.
Alas, he is a gentleman. And he wants this date with Emma more than she can know.
They order a bottle of red for the table, and the service is fast enough. He pours them both glasses and takes a slow, long sip. He needs all the courage for tonight.
Because tonight is the night he's going to tell her he loves her.
"What are you thinking about?" Emma asks as she browses the menu.
You, he almost says, but then he realises she's referring to the food, and he hasn't even opened the menu yet. He was too busy watching her, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the way she sucks on her ruby red lip. Gods, he wants to kiss her.
Stop it, he scolds himself. He needs to be on his best behaviour tonight. He is nothing but patient with Emma, and he knows that if all goes well he will get to kiss her endlessly tonight. Amongst other things.
"I might have pasta," he says, as he opens his menu.
"You're an Italian man, huh?"
"I've always had a weak spot for Italian. I love pizza but you Americans don't quite do it like the Italians do. It's poor in comparison."
"Hey!" She glances up at him and he's stunned by her beauty. She's smiling, her cheeks dimpling. "I resent that."
"I'm merely being honest. Isn't honesty the best policy in a relationship?"
"Unless we're talking about pizza."
He goes for a mushroom pasta that sounds exquisite and she goes for the ribs. They bring her a little bowl of lemon water and napkins prior to the meal, and Killian tops up their wine glasses.
"You look stunning tonight, Swan." The wine is already loosening his tongue. Perhaps he should go slower, but he can already feel that comfortable buzz humming through his veins. And Emma doesn't seem to be slowing down either. Tonight, they're going to enjoy themselves.
"I try. Sometimes."
"You're beautiful all the time."
"Even at four A.M. after two hours sleep and no-make up?"
"Even then."
That makes her laugh. And soon they're laughing and joking together, all the way through the first course. Killian hardly has time to eat; he's too busy chuckling and listening to her. That is, until something serious is brought up.
"What changes do you think Isaac will make?"
"I have no idea." He can feel his own face darken. He watches as she dips the end of a chip in barbecue sauce. "Though, it doesn't sound good."
"Grumpy mentioned something about jobs being cut."
"I know."
"Do you think my job's safe? I mean, I've only been on a year."
"Definitely." He swallows a piece of pasta, nodding. "You're a fan favourite. You have nothing to worry about, love. They adore you. More importantly, they adore you and I, so my job is safe too."
She snorts. "That's a bit presumptuous."
"I happen to be a fan favourite too. Belle would be insane to get rid of me. Or you. But mostly me," he adds with a teasing smile. She indulges him with a smile of her own.
Then a frown takes over her face. "I don't think it would be Belle making the decision. I'm guessing that Belle has little say on the new changes. That Isaac - whoever he is - wants to take over."
"He doesn't like me."
"You don't think?"
Killian nods. He'd sensed it when he was late. Granted, he shouldn't have been late but it wasn't his fault. He had a costume emergency.
He's always had a good eye or those who don't like him, something he's learned from being an actor. It helps him whittle out the false friends and fake smiles, those who want to use his name to get into a VIP club. He could tell from the moment he laid eyes on Isaac. He could feel the waves of dislike rolling off him.
"It happens sometimes," he tells Emma. "The thing is, with being in the public eye, people have their own views of us. Some people think I'm God's gift to Earth. You know about my Tumblr blog, don't you?" He'd shown her his Tumblr blog sometime last year and he remembers her being shocked by it. "Well, I see a lot of posts on there about the actors, including me. Comments on my hair, on my face, cropped photos of my eyes. Some people are ready to defend me no matter what. They claim I'm the nicest man on earth, and those who have met me back it up."
"Seriously? I've heard you should avoid the online world."
"Me too." He chuckles. "Seriously, some people think I can do no wrong. Others, however… Others hate me, even though they've never met me. They make posts about how I don't know how to answer questions at conventions, or that I answer too much and don't let anyone else speak. Some people say I'm arrogant-"
"They've got that right, then."
"-Others say I've a string of lovers. I suppose they don't know. For all they know, I could." She looks up at him sharply and he gives her a smile. "But of course, that's not true. If they knew me they'd know I'm-" Falling- "I'm-" Have fallen- "I'm-" In love with- "Hopelessly devoted to you."
She tilts her head. "Isn't that a Grease song?"
"What can I say? I have a deep passion for musicals."
"I would never have guessed."
"Remind me to dig out my Cats merchandise when you're next around my house."
She laughs. "Noted."
They order dessert. Killian decides on a sticky toffee pudding and Emma goes for a lemon cheese cake. They're in the middle of feeding each other off each other's spoons when they hear a cough next to them. Mouth full of lemon-y goodness, Killian turns to see a young girl, no older than sixteen, holding a piece of paper in her shaking hands.
A fan. On their date.
"Y-you're Killian Jones," the girl says, trembling.
Killian swallows his mouthful of cheesecake.
"Aye, that I am. And who am I speaking to?"
"Hannah," she says in her tremble-y voice. She turns to Emma, fixing her with a wide eyed stare. "A-and you're Emma Swan."
She nods, but doesn't say anything. Both women are paralysed, staring at each other. Killian can't help the flicker of annoyance he feels at this girl's appearance. He should be enjoying a quiet dinner with Emma, not entertaining the public. Couldn't she see they were busy?
But if he were in her shoes and it was Angelina Jolie…
He gives her his best charming grin. "Hannah, come closer. I take it you want an autograph?"
She nods and thrusts her tremble-y paper towards Killian. He takes it and flattens it out on the table. That's when he realises it's a bit of napkin from the restaurant, and his heart softens. She's still watching him with those big, frightened eyes. She looks like she's going to burst into tears any moment.
"This won't do!" He holds up the flimsy napkin and it flops. "Excuse me," he calls to a passing waitress. "Do you have a piece of paper I could have? Your napkins are quality standard, but not so wonderful for autographs."
She disappears to get him a piece of paper.
"I love you on Kings and Queens," Hannah breathes to both of them. "You're my favourite characters. I squealed when you kissed for the first time." She gasps and covers her mouth when she realises her words.
"So did I," Killian says, giving her a wink. The girl blushes.
The waitress returns with a piece of paper.
"Do you have a pen, love?" he asks the girl.
She nods and hands a shaky pen over. He sighs, To Hannah. A pleasure to meet you. Enjoy your meal, love.
Emma signs too. She softens too when the girl turns her attention to her. In theory, they should be annoyed, but she's so sweet with her big eyes and shaking hands.
"You're even more beautiful in real life," she gushes to Emma who blushes, and signs the piece of paper.
"Don't I know it," Killian murmurs to himself.
With a thank you, and a shaky wave, the girl turns and disappears back to her own table. She's with her mother in the corner. They both watch them. Killian gives them a wave before he turns back to Emma. She breathes out a sigh he didn't realise she was holding.
"Still haven't got used to the fans," she whispers. "It still shocks me."
"They're harmless enough. Some are… strange, but most are fine. Like Hannah. She was sweet."
"I can't fault her," Emma says. "I would have done the same with Robert Downey Jr."
He scoffs. "I didn't think he was your type."
"Jealous, Killian?" She smirks, actually smirks at him, and he shakes his head, smiling.
"Perhaps I am." He pauses to take a sip of his wine. "But everything will be fine."
"And why is that?"
"He'll be past it in a couple of years anyway and you'll come crawling back to me."
Emma laughs and takes a sip of her own wine, staining the rim of her glass with red. "Do you really think I'm that shallow? If looks were a factor in relationships, you wouldn't have stood a chance. Tall, dark and handsome? Not my type."
He smirks. "Is that what this is? A relationship?" He tries to keep his voice neutral- he hopes it doesn't tremble or falter.
"What else is it?"
"Well I have met David and Mary Margaret and I'm sure that counts as meeting the parents, judging by how protective David is over you." Then he drops his joking tone, mouth dry as he realises that now is the time. It's now or never. "Actually, Emma-" I love you. "The thing is, I-"
"Listen, Killian, there's something I want to tell you."
He frowns, losing his train of thought.
Losing his courage.
He looks up at her. She's not looking at him. Her glassy, wide eyes are fixed on her lipstick- stained glass in front of her and if Killian isn't mistaken, he's sure he can see her cheeks tinge pink. That's when Killian realises she's going to tell him the same thing.
Don't be stupid, Killian, he scolds himself. How could you possibly know that?
Intuition, maybe? For one insane moment he's willing to bet his three cars, seven bathrooms and pool on it. He leans back in his chair, trying to relax his shoulders, trying to keep his breathing easy. He quirks an eyebrow.
"Yes?"
"It's just that I-" Her eyes flicker up to his.
And he knows. His mouth twitches into a smile. "That you…"
And then just like that her face changes and she shakes her head. "That I want to thank you for a lovely meal." His face falls and she rushes on to say, "It was great. Seriously it was. Thank you for our date." She reaches across the table for his hand and he lets her take it. She squeezes it.
He musters his best smile, trying not to let his disappointment show. "Aye, love. I had a lovely time too."
After all, he has all the time in the world to tell her he loves her.
They finish their desserts and Killian asks for the cheque. It comes on a little tray with two white round mints, and they pop them in their mouths. Emma offers - as he knew she would - to pay at least half, but he retorts with a quick comeback that confirms she has offended him and his entire family.
"Pretty sure you only have a brother." She's quick.
He pays the cheque and they call a cab to get home.
Killian grabs Emma's shawl from where it had been folded over her chair. He steps behind her and drapes it over her shoulders, brushing his nose against her hair as he does so. She smells divine. He presses a kiss to her ear and she giggles, stepping out of his arms.
She takes his hand as they walk out of the restaurant. It sends a warm feeling all throughout his body and he can't stop smiling. For once, he feels content. Happier than he has in so long.
He nods his thanks to the waitress as they pass through the door. She grins in response - clearly she's happy with the tip he gave her. They step out into the night air. It's still warm, even though it's nearing eleven, but a light breeze lifts their hair.
Killian rubs Emma's shoulder. "Can you see the-" He catches Emma's expression. "What's wrong?" She stares straight ahead, lips thin, eyes cold. He follows her gaze to where a group of people, some holding cameras, others holding microphones, reside.
"How did they know we were here?" she hisses.
"Relax." He rubs her shoulder again. "It's just the media. Ignore them. Don't even look at them. Don't answer any of their questions."
She nods, though her expression is still stony. It's then that Killian realises she probably hasn't brushed shoulders with the media too often. Last year she was just getting known; she was less likely to be recognised. This year, however…
"Do you want my hand?" he whispers.
She shakes her head. He feels a pang go through him, but he tries not to take it too personally. Emma has made it very clear how she feels about public displays of affections, especially in the eye of the media. That's why she never allows him to kiss her properly on set.
She begins to walk, her shoes clicking against the concrete. Killian follows as she walks down the steps. He keeps his head down, but he can see them out the corner of his eyes, the way their faces snap towards him, the way they snap to Emma. The hunger in their eyes makes him feel almost sorry for them. He can think of a million other things to do on a summer night rather than spend time, crouched in the bushes, waiting for people to emerge from their meal so they can ambush them.
"Killian," a man calls. "Killian Jones!"
"Emma Swan!" another man calls. "You look beautiful."
Killian sees her tense in front of him, but she doesn't stop walking. He can feel flashes around them. They'll be front page news tomorrow.
"Guys, you look great," a woman calls. Killian can only see a blur of dark hair and glasses. "Is is true you guys are dating?
"Killian, are you taking Emma out on a date?"
"What can you tell us about the new season?"
"I don't know, mates," Killian says, shaking his head. He manages a smile but struggles to keep his voice polite. "It's top secret."
"Are you happy to be a series regular, Emma?"
Her shoulders tense even more at the mention of her name, but she keeps moving, head down, one foot in front of the other. He resists the urge to place a hand on the small of her back, knowing his touch would will calm her, but at the same time, making the paparazzi go wild. It's best to keep a low profile.
"Is it true you have a new head writer?"
"Are you dating?"
"What about the new season?"
The questions come faster and Killian hardly has time to process one before another one comes hurling at him. He doesn't plan to answer them - apart from with vague non-answers, anyway - but the jumble of words make his head spin. He tries to keep his head down.
"Did you enjoy your date?"
"Do you think you'll battle any dragons this season?"
"Are you dating?"
Killian opens the cab door. He lets Emma get in first, and watches her slide across the seat into the darkness. She visibly relaxes once she's submerged within the leather seats and tinted windows.
"Sidney Glass, here. Is there really nothing you can tell The Mirror about the new season?" says a black man with a deep voice, and curly coal hair.
Killian looks right at him and gives him the biggest grin he can. "It's going to be amazing," he says, before he too disappears into the car, slamming the door behind him.
Emma spends most of the cab ride tense, unmoving, rigid as a stone. Killian takes her hand, rubbing his thumb along her fingers and she seems to untense after that.
They remain holding hands as they make their way up the steps to her house. She rummages in her purse for her keys. It's only when she shoves the key into the lock that Killian realises she's shaking.
"Hey," he says, softly. She doesn't listen. She just pushes open the door open and drags herself inside.
He closes the door behind him, watching her as she kicks her heels off and shoves them to the side of the hallway. She uses the same hurried movements as she removes her shawl and throws it into the living room, onto the sofa.
"Hey," he says again. He crosses the room and takes her shoulders, hoping to help somehow. She struggles, trying to get out of his grasp, but he just holds on tighter. "Hey. Emma. Love. Look at me."
She struggles for a second more before giving up and reluctantly meeting his eyes. Hers are frantic, darting around the room. He places his hands on either side of her face to bring her focus back to him. She does and relaxes in his arms.
"Is that the first time that's happened?"
She nods.
"I'm surprised. You honestly haven't been mauled by the paparazzi before?"
"No."
He strokes her cheek. "It's okay. It's normal. They're just trying to get as much information out of us as possible. That's why they ask so many questions."
She nods. Killain is sure if she was feeling like herself, she'd roll her eyes, nudge him and tell him of course she knows that, everyone knows that. The fact that she doesn't worries him a little. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, feeling her soft hair brush against his lips.
"Are you alright now?"
"I'm fine, Killian."
He goes to drop his hands, but she grabs one with both her own. She's no longer shaking; her grip is soft but steady. She turns his hand around and presses a kiss to his palm before releasing him.
"I'm fine," she repeats. "It just freaked me out, that's all."
"It won't be the last time it happens."
"I know."
They look at each other for a moment. And then, "Do you know what you need?"
Emma gives him a look, sending a wave of relief over him. "What do I need?"
"A bloody good drink."
He disappears into the kitchen, smiling when he feels her follow him. He heads straight to the cupboard and pulls out two wine glasses, setting them on the kitchen counter.
"So what have you got?" He opens the cupboard.
"Wine."
"No rum?" He gives her a wounded expression.
"No one here drinks it."
"That's not necessarily a bad thing. It just means I'll have to stay here more often, doesn't it?"
He catches her incredulous expression when he throws her a look over his shoulder. He pours wine into the two glasses, a white one he found in the fridge. It's not his favourite, but some alcohol is better than no alcohol in his opinion. He hands her a glass which she accepts, taking a generous sip.
She seems much more relaxed now. She watches him over the rim of her glass, eyes sparkling, hair glimmering in the spotlights. Her hair looks beautiful tonight. She's curled it, and he can see all the different tones of gold shimmering under the light. When he looks back into her face, he can see she's smirking.
"What?" he asks.
"I'm sorry."
He sets his own glass on the side and leans against the kitchen counter, folding his arms, quirking an eyebrow. "For what?"
"I had intended to… seduce you." She runs her finger along the rim of her glass, still smirking at him. "I guess I just got scared. Not an attractive image. I suppose we'll have to cuddle up on the sofa and watch a movie or something."
He quirks the other eyebrow. "The night is still young."
"I guess."
"And you know you don't need to seduce me. Just say the word. However, if that gorgeous backless dress was an attempt, I'm certainly not complaining."
She takes another slow sip of wine and crosses the room. She places her glass on the kitchen counter, just shy of his own, and peers up at him through her eyelashes. It's definitely a seduction attempt, and he doesn't mind one bit.
"Henry's…"
"With Regina," she confirms.
He nods. He's glad. There was that one occasion when he walked in on the two of them… well, Killian can't remember exactly what they were doing, but he knows it isn't a sight for a teenage boy to see. Not the teenage boy of the woman in question, that is.
Emma trails a finger down his chest. He swallows, not as discreetly as he would have liked. She smiles innocently up at him, and it makes his knees go weak.
Bloody hell.
He places his hands on her waist and pulls her closer so she's flush against him, leaning down to press his lips to hers. But before he can get there, his path is blocked by her finger.
"Maybe we shouldn't…" she says, though he knows at once she's teasing him. "We do have work tomorrow."
"Do we? I'd forgotten about that." He kisses her cheek. "Do we really have to go in?" He presses another kiss to her cheek.
She laughs. "You shouldn't be late again."
"I'm never late." His kisses move down her cheek to her jaw. He slows them down, kissing slow and soft up her jaw. He nudges her ear with his nose. She trembles and he knows he's got her. "I'm a professional," he whispers into her ear.
"Are you?" she manages to get out. If that's the best comeback she can think of, he's definitely got her. His kisses dip down her neck, where the skin is softer. One of his hands trails up her back and she trembles again
"You're already on Isaac's bad side." Her voice is breathless.
"Darling, please, don't think about Isaac while I'm kissing you."
"I'll just think of Robert Downey Jr instead."
He chuckles into her neck, shaking his head. She's impossible, but that's why he loves her. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone and her head falls back. It's then that he realises she's pressed against the kitchen counter, but he has no recollection of how they got there.
"Oh, Robert."
"You're not funny." Though he's chuckling. He looks back up at her, face inches away from hers. Their noses brush.
"You're just gonna have to make me forget all about Robert Downey Jr."
"Is that a challenge?"
"Maybe." She raises her eyebrows.
He only sees one last smirk before he kisses her, one hand in her hair, pushing her against the counter. And with that, he manages to find the zip of her dress, just below her back. Yes, he'll make her forget entirely about Robert Downey Jr.
Thanks for reading! I've just realised I have eight chapters of this already written and I completely forgot. So expect another chapter really soon! What did you think?
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