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happys-crazy-queen22 · 3 years

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Some Like It Rough

Gif credit @bodybebangin

18+ fic. SMUT SMUT AND MORE SMUT.

Taglist @ackles-nhl. @cbouvier23.

Hope everyone enjoys it.

Happy reading dollies

"I needed you. Where were you tonight"? Kayce sat on the edge of the bed holding his ribs.

"I was out with Beth". You leaned over and grabbed the medical bag.

"For six hours"!? Kayce hissed when you pressed on his side.

"We talked, she drank...a lot. Then we played some pool at the bar". You tell him wrapping his ribs up.

"Meet any guys"? Kayce nibbled on his lip, looking up at you.

"Not this again. I didn't talk to anyone except Beth and the bartender".

"Was he a guy"!? Kayce grunted as he tried to lay down on the bed. You huffed and put the medical bag back in the bathroom.

"Yes, he was. We hooked up in the bathroom while Beth table danced. He also has a wife and a kid on the way". You lied about two things but Kayce didnt care even if you joked. He was jealous.

"I think you should go stay with your parents. We need some time". Kayce sighed, getting comfortable in the bed.

"Why? So you can go fuck every girl you see? Thats what you want? Go for it". You aggressively grabbed your duffel bag and started stuffing your clothes inside. "You wanna know something, the whole time we talked we talked about you and I. Like I couldn't shut up about you. Beth was there ask her. Because I know she wont lie for me". You scoffed and grabbed your keys.

"Y/N, I'm sorry".

"I'm tired of your sorrys. You start a fight and then apologize. We never solve anything. I'm sick of it. That's all we do, since you got back. You need to grow up and figure out what you want whether it has me in it or not. Figure out your shit". You slammed the door behind you. Kayce had a lot to think about. First he hated being alone when he was hurt. He needed comfort. So he went to his big sister.

"So what was this fight about this time"? Beth lit up a cigarette.

"What happened at the bar"? Kayce relaxed in his rocking chair with a groan holding his side.

"We talked and I got a drink. What's all this about? I thought you two were good"?

"We were but I guess my jealousy took over. She came home looking good. Guys must have talked to her. Drooling over her and shit".

"The only guy we talked to was the bartender. He was nice. But married".

"So you didn't table dance"? Kayce chuckled when he figured out he was an asshole.

"Hell no. I'm not that drunk". Beth laughed.

"I think you owe her more than just a shit I'm sorry. You need to fuck her brains out". Beth looked at Kayce seriously.

"I'm not talking about this with you". Kayce gasped getting up from the rocking chair.

"I'm a girl. I know what we want. We want a hard rough fuck and a man that knows what the hell he wants. Not some chicken shit. So grow up and tell that girl you love her. And fuck her brains out". Beth sat back in her chair proudly. She knew her shit.

"Well, it'll have to be a slow fuck cause I'm banged up". Kayce laughed with a hiss.

"Just give her that dick good and she'll know you love her".

"Oh my god. I'm leaving. My sister just said good dick in the same sentence. Have a good night. Thanks". Kayce struggled as he tried leaning over to kiss Beth's head.

"That was the pg version. I could've gone graphic. You know me". She laughed as Kayce shook his head and limped down to his car.

Kayce knew what he wanted. He wanted you. He needed you. Kayce called your cell and nothing. He called your parents, nothing. He was starting to get worried. But he knew you wouldn't go stay with friends cause they would tell so he searched at the hotels around. Only two near the house. One was a nice place and the other was a hole in the wall.

"Is there a Y/N Dutton registered here"? Kayce asked the night clerk at the front desk of the nice place.

The lady typed on the computer. "Sorry no ones named that here".

"Can you try Y/N Y/L/N"? Kayce knew if you didnt use the Dutton last name then you would use your last name.

"She's here. Room 204. But am I allowed to give you her number? You a serial killer or something"? She was hesitant on giving Kayce the key.

This made Kayce chuckle. "No ma'am, I'm her boyfriend. We're in a long distance relationship right now but she's thinking about moving here". Kayce made up something so she would give him the key.

"Alright but if I find her in the morning dead, I saw your face and I will identify you. I'm not scared of you". The clerk pulled out a shotgun.

"Yes, ma'am. That's not going to happen though. You may hear some screaming and moaning but that's not from what you're thinking of". Kayce blushed a little but was honest, he didnt want her busting in and pointing that shotgun at him.

"You do you, boo. Go get your girl". She smiled and patted his hand as she passed him the key. Kayce snickered and started up the what felt like a hundred stairs. He groaned and grunted as he walked up holding his side. In his mind he was just hoping he was able to make you moan and not pass out at your feet.

Kayce knocked on the door. "Who is it"? Kayce heard your voice and smirked.

"Room service". Kayce disguised his voice.

The door opened and his eyes went wide, you cracked the door open in a towel. You had just got out of the shower.

"Kayce, what are you doing here"?

"Um, I, god you're beautiful". Kayce stepped in, licking his lips. He grabbed you by the waist and captured your lips with his. He closed the door behind him with his boot and your towel fell to the floor.

"Kayce"? You gasped when Kayce lifted you up, your legs immediately went around his waist. His calloused hands dug into your back as he kissed you.

Kayces knees hit the bed and he slowly laid you down. He released your lips and stood back.

You closed your legs and covered your chest. "Don't hide from me". Kayces husky voice made you tremble. Your inner thighs became wet. The heat from your center was radiating off of you.

Kayce smirked as he brought his shirt over his head and threw it across the room. He kicked off his boots and unbuckled his pants, letting them fall to the floor. When he first came he was hurting but as soon as he saw you. What pain?

He was already so hard. He could have hammered a nail with his hard on.

"Open your legs, baby. Let daddy see". Only a few times has Kayce went daddy and every time the night was amazing so you hardly ever done it so it could be special.

You let out a squeak, your legs falling open. Kayce smirked to himself when he saw how wet you were already. He took his middle finger and touched your clit. You thought you could have came right there. You bit your lip to quiet your moans.

Kayce chuckled, his slipped his fingers through your slit with ease, massaging your with his palm. "You like when daddy does this, dont you"? Kayce evil chuckled. You nodded.

Kayce bent down and got on his knees, he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He started kissing your inner thighs. His beard tickled, but you loved it.

"Mmm". You started to buck your hips but Kayce held you down with his strong hands.

"Someone's eager". Kayce was inches away from your clit, you felt his hot break on your pussy lips. You felt yourself get wetter.

Kayce took the tip of his tongue and flicked your clit. Making you whimper to be touched.

He flattened out his tongue and pressed hard against your clit and started wiggling his tongue.

"Fuck". You gasped, your hand went to his hair.

He sucked on your clit, his middle and index finger teasing your entrance then slowly pushing in. It was driving you crazy for him not to be rough on you.

"Daddy". You moaned his name and he went faster. It encouraged him to go rougher. His fingers went in deep and rough. His middle finger pushing against your g-spot. "Oh fuck". One hand tangled in his hair and the other one holding on to the sheets.

"I'm gonna cum". Kayce sucked you clit as he looked up at you, his fingers never losing their pace. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming". You screamed over and over as you felt your first orgasm take over your body. It trembled and shaked as he kept fingering. He let go of your clit with a pop. Your hand reached down and stopped his. You couldnt take it.

"Such a good girl for daddy". Kayce grinned smacking his lips as he climbed up your body. He helped you scoot up the bed. His eyes never leaving yours. You let out a giggle, a blush upon your face.

"I just wanted to say...". You cut Kayce off by a kiss to the lips.

"Shut up and fuck me". You pulled Kayce on top of you. Wrapping your legs around him, a knot tied with your legs so he couldnt go anywhere.

"Yes, ma'am". Kayce gladly did as he was told. He lined himself up and pushed in. God, he stretched you in all the right places.

"Fuck, baby". Kayce mumbled into your skin of your chest. He started kissing along your collarbone, kissing your neck.

Kayce picked up his pace and his thrusts were deep and long. His hands resting on your back.

"I love you. I'm sorry for being jealous". Kayce spoke between kisses and thrusts.

"I forgive you". You kissed his chest and nibbled at his ear lobe. "I love you so much. Fuck". You threw your head back into the bed when Kayce thrusted in the right angle. God, did he know your body or what.

"You gonna cum again"? Kayce chuckled as he felt you start to squeeze his cock. You let out a whimper and a nod.

"Cum for daddy". Those words sent you straight to the stars. Your orgasm exploded around Kayce. His cock still thrusting as your orgasm still fired away. He was close. So close. Your walls were milking him.

"Fuck". Kayce grunted, his head fell to your chest as he came. His hot seed covered your walls. You wrapped your arms around him and held him as both your orgasms exhausted both of you. You laid there until he went soft and he pulled out of you. Getting under the covers, Kayce pulled you into his arms with a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

"I'm truly sorry that I always let my jealousy get in the way of our relationship. I'm going to work on that. Because I know you would never cheat on me". Kayce said as he cuddled you in more.

"I would never cheat on you, ever. Especially after that. Holy fuck that was amazing. You definitely out did yourself there Mr. Dutton". You giggled, moving a piece of hair from his face.

Kayce chuckled. "You'll have my sister to thank for that. She told me what you wanted".

"So you did talk to Beth and found out that I'm a good girl". You teased.

"I know that's a lie. But I know that you want me and I want you. I was just being bullheaded. I'm sorry".

"I forgive you. Now". You cleared your throat. "How bad are your ribs hurting"?

"Not to bad. Why"? Kayce eyed you.

"I want a ride again, cowboy". You pushed him on his back and climbed aboard the Kayce train. You were never getting off no matter how jealous Kayce was or how angry you were about it. You both loved each other and that wasn't going to change.

#kayce dutton fanfiction #kayce dutton x reader #kayce dutton #Kayce Dutton imagine #kayce dutton smut #yellowstone fanfiction #yellowstone smut #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone #Yellowstone tv #beth dutton #happys-crazy-queen22

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bedtimebrain · 2 years

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EXO D.O.: Dish of love

Characters: U x Ksoo Genre: Chef Ksoo, cooking competition, fluff Description: You met ksoo at a cooking competition, falling hard and fast for him. But will the both of you end up tgt?

“Kyungsoo, the leek and onion also needs to go in right?”

You sat across the kitchen counter looking at Kyungsoo — pan in one hand, ready to start the stove… with his (definitely) semi prepared ingredients.

Turning his head, his little confused frown morphed into a silent exclamation when he saw his unchopped onion and leek.

‘Oh right! I forgot’ and you facepalmed yourself on his behalf.

He got right down to it, chopping the onions as skilful as can be. Someone needs to tell you how to stop getting butterflies over that forearm and skilful hands.

Needless to say, being neighbours doesn’t help your feelings tame themselves either. Not sure if it’s a blessing in disguise or just Cupid fooling around with you.

You and kyungsoo met at an overseas mini cooking contest (which is having the semi finals this week) and happened to be partners for a couple of preliminaries. Although kyungsoo was abit shy at first, you guys hit off incredibly well the moment pans and knives fell into both of your hands.

And as the magic of the universe does it, you ended up being neighbours with him after your previous rental ran into some problems.

He’s quiet, endearingly slow-witted, adorably determined and surprisingly full of hidden manly charms. Just mere 8 weeks together was enough for you to fall hard and fast for him.

The semi final of the cooking contest was this week and you, Kyungsoo, Jinki and Mabel were the only ones left in the game. To sharpen your skills ahead of the semi, kyungsoo and you have volunteered to be lab rats for each other. Friendly rivalry~

‘Ok ok, its done, its done. Try it’

You picked a well flavoured looking chicken piece off the plate and savoured it thoughtfully.

‘Kyungsoo if you’re cooking for a friend this taste fantastic. But for a cooking show… its nothing special’ you commented

‘Ahh.. you’re right. I actually came up with this recipe on my own, so i thought…’ he trailed off with a small little pout that did not manage to escape your sight

‘Actually why don’t you try a creamy version…’ and here goes another night of R&D for the both of you.

————————-

‘And you have 15 minutes left!’

The judges shouted above the clanking of pots and slamming of oven doors.

You’re almost done with your dish, except for the pasta which will be cooked in your special sauce.

You quickly grabbed the strained pasta you left aside, but in a split second they were all spilled over on the ground.

‘Omg, I’m so sorry!’ Mabel exclaimed.

‘Why did you have to run!’ you were frustrated and in absolute panic

‘Now what ..’ you started, but kyungsoo who was using the cooking space behind you both interrupted

‘Y/N just get over it, it’s already spilled. There’s no time for you to be upset’

You glared at kyungsoo, easy for you to say.. But he was right anyway, you clenched you teeth and swallowed your rage. What the heck could you do to replace your pasta? You glanced around a magical drop of inspiration and noticed mabel herself also prepared pasta. Surely she wouldn’t mind giving you some at this critical juncture?

Mabel caught your eyes and it was as if she heard your thoughts. She reached for her pasta bowl and smiled at you.

Except that she went on to protectively dumped all her sauce over it.

WOW.

Someone needs to tell you more about how to pull the hair out of an evil wench.

In the end kyungsoo offered you his sushi rice which completely didnt go well with the prawns and paste you prepared. And with much anger and disappointment you lost your chance to finals to mabel. Who o-so totally deserves it.

The moment the judges called for a wrap for today. You took off your apron, and threw it on your table right in the face of mabel. The audacity of her to act like she didn’t see it and ran up to kyungsoo straight and ask to have a taste of his dish.

You left the kitchen straight to cool off and Jinki followed you out and offered jokes and comfort so you would at least feel better before going for the semi-finals party.

---------

At the dinner, mabel and kyungsoo sat together, being the stars of the night. You really have nothing against that, only that mabel wasn’t acting quite right ?

You never noticed before, but it does seem pretty obvious now that mabel likes kyungsoo. All the occasional touching and that voice that goes up a few pitches just for him. Wrapping meat for him in lettuce when he didn’t even ask for it.

It was almost absolutely unbearable to be sitting opposite them. Watching that little thief who just took your podium spot about to steal your guy. Can’t she tell that kyungsoo obviously hates the touching? But oh gawd, maybe kyungsoo does enjoy the feeding.

You dunked down 2 shots and tried to ignore those two.

But the night only got worse. In her tipsy state, mabel very smoothly took the chance to lean herself on kyungsoo. You sucked in a deep breath of annoyance, perhaps sensing you were about to reach your tolerance limit for the day, jinki whispered in your ear to take a breather together outside.

Without hesitation, you drank a whole mouthful from the bottle before getting up. The amount you drank tonight was enough to make you lose your balance just a little as you stood up.

‘Ya ya, y/n. Don’t drink so much if you can’t ’ kyungsoo took the soju bottles in front of you away from across the table and his knee-jerk reaction almost shook the leaning-tower-of-Mabel off her seat. Jinki caught you and you watch kyungsoo catch mabel, to stop her from falling.

You ignored him and thought to yourself ya stay with mabel the whole night then, traitor. And you went out to sit by the bench outside the restaurant with jinki.

‘Honestly, y/n if you like him so much why don’t you just tell him? I think he likes you too.’

Shocked you looked at jinki ‘i was that obvious about liking him??’

‘No girl, but the two of you have that couple chemistry. You know what i mean? Everyone has been wondering if the both of you are together. Perhaps that’s why mabel decided to make her move since the both of you aren’t really progressing.’

You sighed and jinki laughed at you, putting his arms over your shoulders.

‘Comeon, its not that tough! just do it tonight y/n, if he says he doesnt like you just blame it on the alcohol and pretend you never said it.’

Ok, he has a point. ‘But i dont know how the start , omg.’

‘Simple does it. ‘i-like-you’, give it a try. you can look at me and practice now’

Giggling, you looked at jinki, and put on a straight face ‘ i...like you’, but somehow the situation just felt funny and the both of you started laughing.

‘ah, i dont think i can do it. Anyway i’m gna go home, im tired and not really in the mood to be watching a kdrama inside. Help me tell the rest alright, and thanks for being the best confidant jinki.’

--------

ksoo’s pov

‘ah thank you, you don’t have to wrap it for me’ he gulped down the vegetable wrap and tried to put some space between him and mabel. Mabel’s proximity was making him feel extremely uncomfortable.

is y/n still affected by what happened in the afternoon? she doesn’t seem to be in a great mood.

He wanted to give the meat he was grilling to you, but jinki beat him to do it. Was there something on between the both of you ?

He saw jinki following you out after the competition today. Surely to comfort you.

Only now did he realize he had been stuck with mabel ever since the competition ended. What a friend he was to not give word of concern at all.

He can’t help but noticed that you were drinking alot today, frowning, wanting to tell you to slow down but he just kept hesitating about doing it. what a loser kyungsoo.

While he was trying to adjust mabel’s leaning body on him, he caught, from the corner of his eye, jinki whispering in your ear. He can’t help but turn his head to stare at the both of you.

The next moment you were both up and you lost your balance. Worried for you he took the bottles away from your area ‘ Ya ya, y/n. Don’t drink so much if you can’t’

You gave him such a hateful look it caught him off guard and his eyes travelled to jinki’s hands that were steadying you, on your arm and waist.

he was sure 10 minutes had passed and the both of you were still not back. strangely anxious, he kept looking over at the restaurant door and wondered where the both of you had gone. he couldn’t wait a minute longer and headed out after ignoring her whining asking him to stay.

‘i.. like you’ he heard your voice, and just right in front of him the both of you were seated, back facing him.

he felt his heart drop and immediately turned back into the restaurant. Did he just lose his chance with you? did you really like jinki? was it all in his mind? he thought you liked him too.

all the thought ran through his head at a speed of 200km/h. he had originally wanted to confess to you after the competition, so there wouldnt be distractions or burdens when the both of you face each other as rivals.

he slowly sat back down on the table, and poured a shot for himself.

---------

It was past 12am and the door bell rang, who could it be at this hour?

You opened the door to find kyungsoo standing in front of you.

‘Are you okay? You left early without telling me, just wanted to check in on you’

Though you have sobered up a little you are still in no mood for a decent conversion.

‘Yeh I’m fine’ you relied and stared blankly at him

‘Uhm..’ you knew he was searching for something to say as he reached to scratch the back of his head.

‘Okay then rest well, come over I’ll cook you hangover soup tomorrow’

You shared an awkward moment with him by looking at him and simply giving a nod as a reply, and just as he started walking away

‘Do Kyungsoo’

You opened the door and called out, and he turned on his heels taking a step toward you

You felt a rush of adrenaline as you impulsively wanted to do what you’re about to do next. The power of alcohol pumped through your blood like a charge of courage. And without thinking, you pulled right at his jacket’s zipper, closed your eyes and pressed your lips to his.

It lasted a second or two before you pulled away. Your heart beating fast and you bit on your upper lip. What’s going to happen next ?

Stunned. Kyungsoo fumbled backwards just ever so slightly as you let him go. Eyes wide, staring at you, at the air, whatever. And you figured it’s now or never.

‘I like you’

But his expression remained the same and you couldn’t make out what was he thinking. The both of you stood there for maybe 20seconds maybe a minute but it felt like forever right there and then.

Your heart dropped ever so slightly as the adrenaline faded at the moment of uncertainty

‘Whatever Kyungsoo’ you reached to close the door

‘Wait’ his hands are now holding onto the door, opposing your motion he pulled it back open

‘Me ? Not jinki?’ He asked

‘What?’ You blurted out absolutely confused but answered

‘Yes you’

With all seriousness still on his face, Kyungsoo took a step right into your apartment and closed the door behind him.

‘Thank God, y/n’

And before you knew it, with the brightest smile, his hands was on your face pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

#exowritersnet #kyungsoo #exo #exo d.o.#exofanfic #exo fanfic #exo fluff #exo scenarios

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emily-strange · 5 years

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Growing Pains...

So here it is. The first chapter of my RDR2 Story. I can’t believe I’m doing this….please be kind? But also really happy for constructive criticism! Bit of a long one to start, just to get it all going.

Any advice on Titles? I’m terrible with them!!

Summary: Emmy has been with the gang since she was a little girl. Her mother moved on, leaving her to be raised by Dutch, Hosea and Susan. Arthur and John are her brothers (argue and she will fight you). Becoming a woman is hard when everyone still sees you as a child. Since the Blackwater mess she’s trying to find her feet while dealing with her new feelings for the gangs resident douchebag.

Pairing: None yet, eventual Micah x female OC.

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual themes, Minor mention of blood (they’re outlaws after all).

Chapter 1

God it’s good to have Sean back. I know how much he pisses everyone off, but that guy has been my partner in crime since before I can remember. My life lacked a lotta fun before he found himself with us. He’s like my weird, Irish, little brother…. who’s older than me. And hooks up with my favourite aunt/sister/best girl-friend. Yeah, this family is one screwed up party.

“Whatta you writin’ there?” John asks before almost collapsing on me, “You know there’s a party goin’ on right?”. I look around and in fact only see Uncle, the Reverend and Susan still up, chatting around a table scattered with bottle.

“Yes, I’m well aware” I say rolling my eyes. I close my journal before he can catch a glimpse. He’s always trying to.

“You’ve spent way too much time with Arthur” he slurs before taking another swig of whiskey and handing the bottle to me. I take a glug like it’s water. Hell, been drinking the stuff since I was young enough to only have water.

“I like the writin’ thing. Gives me a way to complain about ya without getting in trouble from Hosea”.

John takes the bottle and clutches his chest like he’s been shot, “Cruel, just cruel. I came all the way here from that tree to check on ya” he laughs and points to a tree only a few steps away, “….you were on ma stop before Abiga..”, I can’t help but interrupt him.

“No, John! You’re drunk. You’ll do more damage than good. You haven’t fought in days. Why ruin that!?”. I know I sound shrill but my God, he’s exhausting sometimes!

“Cauz. I’m horn…….nevermind.” he quickly takes another glug of his drink and avoids eye contact until I’m pretty much staring him down, face to face. Idiot boy. I can’t believe that after Jack I’m the youngest.

He finally meets my eyes, “Alright! God damn, I’ll goda bed! Jeesus. From now on ya Emmy Morgan not….ya know…..whatever” he says while slumping down, clearly fed up of being scolded like a child. I hate having to be his brain sometimes. But if I didn’t think for him, he’d of never come home. It was one of my best days riding back into camp after getting him from the station. It was hard but he’s my brother. Blood or not.

I kiss his cheek and hug him around his shoulders.

“Go to bed John,” I mumble into his shoulder “it’ll all look better in the mornin’”. I pull back and he nods before getting up on shaky, drunken legs.

“Yeah, yeah. Night little sister. Just. Please do me a favor?”. I tilt my head to signal him to continue, “Don’t just write about ya life like Arthur. Live it. Ya young.”. He pats my head clumsily and I smile. I quite like drunk John. More often than not he talks more sense than sober John.

I watch him stumble towards his own tent. I can just about see him collapse onto his cot and after a few moments, when I’m sure he won’t stumble back out of it into Abigail’s, waking her and Jack, I turn back to the fire and my journal.

Lord this gang. This family. I’d be lost without them but sometimes feel smothered by them. Dutch hasn’t let me leave the camp once since we got here. Too worried about Pinkertons and O’Driscoll’s. I should be grateful that he wants to act as my pa when mine was so shite, but he isn’t my pa. And I’m not the child I once was. Hosea sees it, John sees it, Arthur….well, Arthur begrudgingly sees it but he sees it nonetheless. Maybe if I get Arthur on side?

I slam my journal with an incredibly audible huff, “Why do I have to get anyone on side. I’m 18 God dammit, nearly 19! Abigail had Jack at my age”. A voice cuts through my quiet and has me jumping out of my skin.

“I wouldn’t model yourself on Miss Roberts if I were you,” Micah comes into view in front of me. Taking a seat on the other side of the fire, “A bit of a ‘loose’ cannon if you follow my meanin’”.

He’s not got his coat on and he’s wearing that red shirt he loves so much. Sleeves rolled up. Why the heck do I keep looking at his arms? His hat’s sat as always on top of his blonde mop of hair.

“Micah” I greet. Somewhat curtly, not that I was meaning to. Still catching my breath from his shock arrival. “I didn’t hear you.”.

He laughs deeply at that and opens his arms in a wide gesture, “It’s a skill sweetheart”. I hate it when he calls me that. I don’t like what it does to me. And it ruins the sweetness of it that Arthur has when he calls me it. But I know asking him to stop will only encourage him more so I keep quiet.

“So”, I whistle out the word, “how much of that did you hear?”. I take a chance and look up at him, only to regret it. He’s sporting that shit-eating grin of his.

“Well, I heard you play mother to scar face aaaand then mutter to ya self about not bein’ a child….bit childish though aint it? Talkin’ to ya self I mean”, Micah huffs a laugh at his own joke and takes a hearty swig of the bottle he’s holding. He holds it out to me and stupidly, I accept.

“Teasing other people about their private thoughts Mr Bell. Also a bit ‘childish’ aint it?”, I finish the bottle and put it down by the log I’m leaning against. I watch him as he pretends to ponder.

“Maybe.” Is the only answer he gives. Well this was well and truly pointless.

We look at each other for a few moments. I hate that smug look on his face! So why can’t I look away?

Thankfully he breaks the silence before it gets too awkward.

“Dutch been keepin’ ya on a short leash?” he asks while throwing twigs into the flames. I’m almost stunned at how normally he asks the question. No mirth or venom. I catch myself smiling, hopefully just before he notices. I clear my throat.

“Um, yeah. He has. He’s worried. But I used to do quite a lot outta camp before, well, ya know”, he nods along with my words “It’s kinda suffocating here sometimes”. I feel guilt wash over me at admitting my plight to another person. Some people would give their right leg to be coddled like this. To be kept safe in camp away from the evils that stalk us. Micah breaks me out of my own thoughts.

“Don’t do that” he says. I look up at him but he’s still staring at the fire. When I don’t reply, only look quizzically at him he continues. “Don’t feel bad for wantin’ more. For wantin’ to do somethin’ other than sew and scrub shit off people’s shoes. Guilt. It’s pointless. A useless emotion. Used by weaker people to keep the better ones down.”.

“You don’t actually believe that right? Guilt. It….the feeling means you’re human….that you care about other people.”, he looks at me then. Dead in the eyes. Unblinking.

“Well then sweetheart. I guess I’m not human”.

What can I possibly say to that?

I clear my throat again and take a moment to ruminate on what he’s just said. I break the eye contact but I can tell he’s still looking at me.

“That’s not true Mr Bell. You’re human. I’ve seen you bleed like the rest of ‘em. Patched you up a bit too if you remember.”. I think briefly of a time before Blackwater, when he came back to camp after a run in with the O’Driscolls’. He’d been slashed on the side by a knife. Nothing too bad but my word did it bleed. I gave him the stiches myself. Been doing that for a long time now. Everyone thought it best to get another person in the know of how to do the basic stuff.

He’d come back into camp clutching his side and shoved everyone away. Saying he could do it himself. Grabbed the needle and thread before dropping the flaps of his tent and getting to work. Everyone let him. I mean, wouldn’t you? In the months he’d been running with us he hadn’t been kind to pretty much anyone. I’d kept my distance. Arthur asked me to and, well he’s my big brother so. But when I walked past Micah’s tent, and I heard him whimper like a dying rabbit. I couldn’t just head to bed.

“Mr Bell?” I called gently, “Mr Bell?”.

I received a strained “what!?” in return. I’ve never really been one to scare easily. Maybe this was my own little version of playing with fire. But I just walked right into his tent. No asking, no preamble. Just, walked right in.

He was sat on his cot, shirtless. He was using his black shirt to try and stem the bleeding and despite the dark colour, I could see it become drenched in crimson. He looked at me, breathless and pale.

“What the hell do ya think ya doin’?!” he said. He wasn’t shouting. Probably felt too weak for that. His mouth hung open and he was almost panting. Sweat beading on his forehead and chest.

Despite my very best efforts, my eyes were drawn to his chest. It looked, firm? Firm and rippled with patches of light hair. Scars were scattered on his chest and stomach but his arms were basically intact. I was pulled from my thoughts by his gruff voice. “Girl!?” he spat as sternly as his condition would muster.

I gathered myself quickly and rushed to his side, kneeling on the floor.

“I’m gonna help you Mr Bell whether you want me to or not so for this once, just hush. I won’t tell anyone that you let me help you and once you’re sewn up I’m gone.”. As I hurried my words out, I took the needle and thread from beside him on the cot. I figured if I did it quickly enough he’d be too slow in this state to refuse. I threaded the needle easily and gently pushed on his chest to move him back a bit. He was warm and clammy under my palms but it wasn’t lost on me that this was my first time touching the chest of a man who wasn’t what I considered ‘family’.

Micah had grunted but stayed quiet. I could feel him watching me.

I took the shirt away from his side and with as much cold detachment as I could muster, poured alcohol onto the wound from the bottle he’d readied on the floor. He held is breath and despite him trying to be as silent as possible, he groaned in pain. I tried to ignore that horrible noise as I started sewing up his wound. He muffled his groans by biting his lips and punching the cot next to him. I glanced up at his face and his eyes were screwed shut. My God, he looked….vulnerable.

When I was done I fished around the floor for something that looked almost clean to press to his side. I knelt there as his breathing returned to normal and I chanced my luck by letting my eyes wander a bit more from the wound. I took in his stomach, his face, his hands. But in particular, his arms. They looked solid. And at that moment I felt myself blush.

I pushed myself up to standing and looked anywhere but his face. I nodded at nothing in particular and basically ran out of the tent.

That night I came on my fingers to the thought of biting Micah Bell’s strong biceps as he hovered above me. Couldn’t look him in the eye since then. Well until Colter. Had much bigger fish to fry then.

I was brought back to the present when I felt a weight lean against my arm. In my distraction, Micah had moved to sit next to me. Shoulder to shoulder.

“Oooh I remember” he drawled, facing forward, “remember you scurrying away quick as lightening as well” he mused further. He smelled of whiskey and cigarettes. Nothing new for the people around here. But he smelt of something else. Something spicy. Woody? Is that a thing people can smell like?

“I uh, remember you not wanting help. So thought I’d spare you the embarrassment of small talk.” I replied not looking when he turned his face towards me. Leaning in close to my ear.

“Hmm well ain’t that kind”, he whispered and I’m so very proud of the fact that I could keep the shiver I felt from showing. What on earth was happening here.

I turned to face him. “Well I’m a kind person”, I smiled. He pulled back and looked at me like I was a puzzle. Like my face was covered in a maze he couldn’t find a way out from. And while he looked at me, clearly trying to work out his next move. I made mine.

“Well, goodnight Mr Bell,” I proceeded to get up from my spot on the floor. “Thank you for the drink and your lessons on empathy. Even though I will ignore it.” I nodded and before he could respond, I walked to my tent with my head held high. I undid the flaps without looking his way and once I was alone, I threw myself onto my cot.

What the fuck was that?

That night I came on my fingers to the thought of being Micah Bell breathing against my neck.

What the hell am I doing…

#rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fandom #micah bell #micah bell x fem oc #John Marston #Arthur Morgan #dutch van der linde #van der linde gang #fanfiction #rdr2 tag #red dead redemption 2 tag #rdr2 pc #rdr2 oc

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steve0discusses · 5 years

Text

Yugioh S3 Ep 44-45: Bakura‘s Back for More of This Nonsense

Man, I can’t believe we’re closing in on the 4th season of this show (still in shock I’m still able to make these.) Seems like just yesterday I felt like I had no idea what was happening, and now I’m like “they put in freakin Sans into Smash but not Bakura???” I’ve become one of those people now.

It’s been interesting how, because I have slowed down to watch these, I think I’ve been able to have a much more positive experience with the show. People have been talking about how binging has kind of changed TV from a place where fandoms could chat to a place where...you just watch it all in a weekend and hope no one spoils it and then wait for the next big thing to consume a week later.

But, when you’re watching a 15 year old anime you don’t have to worry about any of that. So it’s like a kind of nostalgic experience of a pre-streaming era despite the fact I’m totally streaming this.

But back to the show, now that the deep and reflective moments for Marik are over, my favorite storyboarder went home and left the rest of this to the night team who are clearly in a real rush to get this all finished. Again, the Yugioh whiplash is going from that high of “damn this is so goo-” then to the reality that the rest of the art direction in this show is “-acceptable. I meant to say acceptable. It’s perfectly acceptable”

Yugi Muto is still strung up by weird shadow magic restraints that must also be around his legs for some reason. I mean...it wouldn’t be so kinky if it wasn't also around his feet. More bits and pieces of Our Boy have been removed over the course of this endless card game, and he’s doing pretty good considering.

Joey has decided he’s had Enough Of These Damn Ghosts.

And so Marik decided that he’s been shamed by Joey Wheeler enough that he will just go away like Joey asks. This may be the only person who was actually bothered enough by Joey Wheeler to walk away in all of Yugioh.

(read more under the cut)

They....

Legit no one told her what had just happened.

They........

Just want to note that while Yugi’s leg burst out a stream of weird purple gas and Yugi screamed in pain, when his crotch disappeared, he did nothing but patiently look over at Pharaoh, who awkwardly winced. I guess the animation team knew better than to animate gas exploding out of that one particular spot, but it is still a rather funny contrast.

Marik has achieved his final form of so many veins, and it is a still frame every time it’s on screen. You cannot animate this. You cannot.

On the other end of the field, Odion has somehow made it down these extremely steep stairs, only to look up and see so many more stairs.

And back on the field is so many cards. So many cards, including the Card Poem. This awful Card Poem I tried so hard to forget.

Bro brings up that maybe this poem sounds way cooler in Japanese but like...I doubt it, right? Like this was a poem that the writers threw together in 5 minutes and were like “we’re never going to actually say the shame poem, right?”

But anyway more cards things happen but why talk about cards when this eventually happens.

I feel like Pharaoh was attempting to use Shadow Magic on Marik like just a few episodes ago so he could have done something now but...maybe he forgot? I dunno. Pharaoh didn’t feel like participating in this particular fight, maybe because his alter ego is holding on to life solely by having extra long emo bangs to count as lifepoints.

and so, Odion gives Marik a pep talk--and I kid you not, this is all Marik needed the entire time.

Yeah.

That was it.

Like maybe Odion had to be awake since Odion has a spell or whatever on Marik but still it’s like...all you had to do was say “This guy is not even a person, Marik--you are the person, just nix him and we’re good”

And so the two alter ego’s fight with eachother in the same body and that must have been a treat for everyone watching.

Man, it’s a good thing Mokuba already has so many PTSD situations under his several belts up to this point, because otherwise I’d be somewhat concerned about this very young kid who is privy to all this type of magical abominations every time his brother just wants to play cards.

and then...Yugi plays a bunch of cards and...um......

......don’t ask me what happened........

After the big group hug, Marik and Marik switch places.

This was because bad Marik was fused with a monster card--which turned bad-Marik into...the definition of a Monster.

So, if you kill the monster card then you can...

...switch places with your alternate half...

...yes...

Basically it’s a more complicated version of what Pharaoh did to Ryou and Bakura in S1, except in S1, Bakura played Ryou as a card and Pharaoh just slammed his hands on the table and was like “Screw it, Bakura! I’m so tired of this! We’re all so individually tired of this! I’m just going to use my Shadow Magic and switch you with Ryou and then we’re all going the HELL BACK TO BED!”

This time it just had to be so much more complicated although we have seen Pharaoh willy nilly switch souls before just two seasons ago.

So, just like Bakura did to his evil side in S1, Marik banishes his evil side to the shadow realm in a card game.

Which worked super good last time, amiright?

I guess we’re all just going to assume that this works now? Even though this absolutely did not work in season 1? Like Bakura went right back to a life of murder immediately?

Then again, Bakura’s an actual dude, and Marik’s alter Ego was a figment of his anger or something?????? Maybe that’s the difference? Maybe that’s why we can be rest assured that this works now?

Maybe they’re just tired of the Marik plot line and are like “listen, he’s kind of hard to draw and we don’t want to do it anymore. He’s dead now.”

For realsies though, from what I’ve been told, Marik never goes cray again and gracefully exits the show. But, if they ever want to continue Yugioh back in this direction, you can just have him snap at any time you feel like, we all know this type of exorcism is wholly reversible.

Anyway, the clouds are lifted and we are reminded that it is still hardly even lunch time.

It is at this point that Marik turns to his Brother and his Sister, who all three have no world skills outside of scamming museums and filtering sewer water, and waxes long about all the great times they’re about to have in the future.

Like what future though? You have to go to 20 years of actual real deal school, Marik, you can only read one Egyptian text. Hell knows how many people you possessed in order to get that motorcycle permit. You for sure aren’t ever allowed to play cards ever again. Like what are you going to do, Marik?

...dude what if he just goes back on the boat and just sails away for the rest of his life with his cultists who are equally unqualified to live in the real modern world. OMG what if that’s the real Marik’s Boat Time all along?

Ah.

I almost forgot about you, Bakura.

Just in time for the British Bake Off to start updating episodes on Netflix, just in time, Bakura.

And following this is actual real thing that happened which, if you told me about, I would have just assumed was a joke or an edit to make it appear like this is happening. But no, it’s strip time.

the hell?

Yo can you believe that like a week ago I was like quoting “One Week” for kicks in these recaps and then this week Marik is, indeed, “in the history of taking off his shirt” ?

Anyway, Marik reminds us that his only purpose in life is to uh...be a book. A book that no one can read because Pharaoh didn’t have the foresight 5000 years ago that no one would be speaking Egyptian anymore and also that his reincarnation would be a 14-16 yo Japanese boy who’s entire brain power is used for selecting cards and selecting matching belts.

I just...Pharaoh’s mind must have been in a real place 5000 years ago and that was before he ever became a ghost.

Also, it is kind of amazing how many times it has come up how illiterate Pharaoh is over the past season and he still hasn’t decided to do anything about it. Like, he’s just kind of hoping that someone else (probably Kaiba) will feed the answer to him like a baby because that’s just how this show has been up to now.

In this case he has a one-ness moment with the tablet and gets the sense of “It’s fine, we’ll figure this out later” which um...

I’m really happy that in this scene, Pharaoh is still tripping balls but everyone else is so used to him doing stuff like this, they just completely ignore it.

So glad I had 2 seasons to build up this back tatt in order to figure out that Marik’s back didn’t help Pharaoh at all. The tablet yes, the back tattoo--no, completely unnecessary. Congrats, Pharaoh’s mole people servants, you screwed up and did this weird ass ceremony on 12 yo’s for 5000 years trapped underground for NO REASON.

Anyways, preteens rejoice, Marik without a shirt is randomly 10 lbs more buffed now, which I’m pretty sure was never a thing when he was wearing that itty bitty pink hoodie. Like maybe the animators are just used to really buffed anime and this is them toning it the hell down, but uh...no actual 16 year olds will ever look like this, sorry to break it to you, preteens.

Man, the horny line running through this show lol.

Letsee, Yugi now has the puzzle, Ishizu’s necklace, the Ring, the Rod, the...

...where’s the freakin eyeball?

Did...where is it? Where is the nastiest of the golden objects?

Did Bakura never bring the eye with him to this trip? Like...is it just hanging out in his desk at home near his secret stash he super hopes that his Mom doesn’t find?

Guys, where’s the eyeball?

Anyway, now that Mokuba has decided Seto can feel joy and smile again, he gives Seto the A-OK to blow the hell out of this moneypit island that has already been violently blown up just a few years previously.

Like this begs the question, why even build this tower if you wanted to blow it up? But then again, that is the equivalent to a small child that builds block towers just to knocks them over, right? Like that part of Seto just never grew up?

So........

My bro, while looking this over, gave me the best spicy bro headcanon I’ve ever heard, and it’s absolutely too ridiculous for this blog that is mostly about what actually happens in the course of this show, but I’mma gonna share it with you anyway. I’m pretty sure this isn’t a common headcanon, but if my bro got it from some random fic he read off Ao3, I don’t know any better. So bro kinda squints at Roland, Seto Kaiba’s most incompetent bodyguard (if “bodyguard” is even an accurate description for the weird fake not-a-job that this guy has to do) and is like “do you feel like Roland has Noah’s hair color?”

and I was like “Bro, if you are suggesting that Roland is the illegitimate son of Gozobura because his hair is the same shade as the darker parts of Noah’s hair, that is one wild headcanon and I love it”

So--using Bro’s logic, lets say Gozaboro had a really stupid illegitimate son he had to hide from his wife. So he just...gives him a fake job. Considers “maybe I can use this son on A.I. Noah?” but Roland ends up being too much of a dumbass to intimidate Noah, so instead, he keeps Roland around on low-tier jobs so he gets keep an eye on him, torture him, etc.

And as the company falls out around him, Roland gets slowly promoted, as Seto and Mokuba fire basically everyone who worked with Pegasus and the Big 5. And Roland, who is just so bad at everything, forgot to attend the Pegasus coup (and would have no idea what is ever happening), so when the Kaibas returned from Pegasus’ island they still have Roland...sitting there at that long table covered in 4 identical idiot salads and orange juice he laid out for them in his patchy green moustache and his huge Gozaburo shoulders, they’re like “well.....I guess we have to take care of him now.”

And that’s the story my brother has in his head now every time Roland is on screen. It’s not canon at all that Roland is the secret 4th Kaiba brother but damn. What if he’s just the 4th Kaiba brother but has no idea, and Mokuba and Seto do, and that’s why they drag him all over the world with them? Hilarious.

I mean...Seto and Mokuba fire everyone. But they don’t fire Roland, their biggest dumbass. What a headcanon. (and if this joke ends up being real I’ll be very happy)

ALSO, new thing, the necklaces around their necks with the cute picture of eachother that they had up till now to remind eachother of their forever brotherly love--also keys used to blow up things very violently.

I should have expected this.

Anyway, lets check up on Mai---oohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Y’all this was WEIRD.

WHAT. THE. HELL.

So after that extremely insensitive joke that made us doubt if bringing back Mai was a good thing, lets have a reminder that we brought back someone else even worse, who, like a parasite, was devouring everything that they love.

(Bakura’s font color has been changed to blue stripes because before he was just too similar to Joey’s yellow and my white. Eventually I will find the right system for coloring everyone’s font legibly, although I know that the patterns are sometimes harder to read for people that aren’t colorblind.)

Ah, local nasty boy is back. I’d love if they had shown more of the food he ate, but they wisely decided to crop that huge spread out of frame. Bakura eating all of the donuts is canon though. Somehow every donut aboard this blimp fit inside of that small boy’s endless stomach.

PS Kaiba Corp makes their own milk. At some point, Seto Kaiba was just leaning back into his work chair, Mokuba on the couch watching TV, Roland completely unable to reload the Keurig, and Seto was like “But what if...I made CHEESE.” (BECAUSE YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THESE KIDS LOVE CHEESE) and Mokuba was like “OMG you could sell the company back to them at 2 times the price for each share” and he was like “I KNOW.”

and so he marched down to the nearest cheese fields to buy some cows, only to find out that the agriculture market is so strained you can’t sell the shares at a times-two profit now and he‘s like “Ah dammit! I have to do real business! This freakin blows!”

Makes you think.

Anyway, then Ryou throws some shade at us about “PS, I was in Hell! I love you, too!”

Anyway, so it’s about time we ended this season, so how about it? How about we take off, watch it all blow up as a symbolic representation of all the hopes and dreams Kaiba had at the beginning of this tourney, and end this crazy ass season?

Oh wait, that relies on Roland being able to do even one thing competently.

So, that’s where we leave off.

Really truly, honestly, we need to get everyone on this show matching cuff radios because the number of times they’ve needed to call Kaiba is insurmountable. Could have solved so many problems. Really surprised that Roland can’t like...call the Kaibas right now, but now that I think about it, we clarified several episodes ago that Mokuba forcibly kicked Roland off of the radio because he was unable to work it properly.

Good job Roland, the best Kaiba son.

Anyway if you just got here this is a link to read just the Yugioh recaps in chrono order

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

All was Golden in the Sky (2/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

—-

Rating: Mature Tag List: @kmomof4 ; @shireness-says ; @profdanglaisstuff ; @captainsjedi ; @ultraluckycatnd ; @thejollyroger-writer ; @winterbaby89 ; @melsbels ; @tiganasummertree ; @jennjenn615 (If you’d like to be tagged or not tagged or tell me your thoughts about library chairs, let me know.) AN: THANK YOU GUYS FOR BEING SO LOVELY ABOUT THIS STORY. I am genuinely so excited about what’s to come and we’ve got some banter and Chinese food and Ruby and KISSING. THERE’S KISSING IN THIS CHAPTER. Another huge shoutout to @resident-of-storybrooke for her art @distant-rose for her chapter banners @bmbbcs4evr for being the best and @cssns for hosting this event.

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

—-

They don’t find much. It’s incredibly frustrating.

And what they do find isn’t in English and only leads to more dead ends and Emma wonders if she’ll end up in the papers if she starts pulling her hair out. The next few days pass in a blur of lingering worries and latent anxiety, slightly musty books and a very nice librarian with brown hair and an easy smile and she’s still got no idea how to save magic or defeat some sort of mythical evil.

Ruby’s spent the whole afternoon trying to figure out how to translate the latest book they’ve requested. It’s not in English.

“This is the worst thing we’ve ever done,” Ruby announces, slumped into one of the chairs at the table they’ve commandeered as their own. Emma is starting to consider the chairs some kind of New York Public Library torture device.

She’s definitely got a bruise on her back.

“Is it?”

Ruby nods seriously, and the bags under her eyes have bags. “Bar none. Including that one time you and Mary Margaret tried to sneak me out before the full moon so she could talk to that one group of rabbits.”

“That was not my idea at all,” Emma argues, memories flitting through her mind and Mary Margaret had been certain that Ruby’s heightened wolf senses would help. It was absurd. The rabbits were terrified. Ruby was hungry. And Granny had threatened to tie them up by their shoestrings in the basement of the diner as soon as she figured out what was going on.

“Semantics,” Ruby mumbles. She huffs out a breath of air, frustration obvious in the sound and someone wearing very expensive headphones actually has the gall to shush them. Emma widens her eyes. “God, this city is the worst,” Ruby continues, voice rising. It’s on purpose.

Emma knows.

She understands.

She’s going to have find ice for back.

“What if we call it a night?” she suggests. “We’re not going to figure anything else out and you’re going to go attack that guy sooner rather than later.” “I resent the suggestion.” “Rubes.”

Ruby sticks her tongue out. “He’s just being a dick for the sake of being a dick. Those headphones are definitely noise-cancelling. It’s ridiculous.” “Chinese or pizza?” “You’re changing the subject on purpose.” “Yes,” Emma nods, slamming shut the book in front of her. The dust it emits makes her cough. “And I really can’t sit in this chair anymore.”

“Ah, well, I guess that’s fair. Alright. And pizza, obviously.”

They order pizza. And eat the whole thing. Plus garlic knots, Ruby making several pointed jokes about vampires that fall a little flat, but Emma’s exhausted and they don’t find anything the next day either. Or the day after that.

And the sun is just starting to go down when Emma jogs up the stairs towards her door, keys clattering in her hand and several different emotions that, mostly, boil down to just pissed off lingering at the base of her spine. There’s someone standing in front of her door.

“C’mon,” Emma groans, and she does not have the energy to fight the Dark One right now. Or his minions. Animated or otherwise. “Are you kidding me?” she yells, a sudden tension in the air that she refuses to take responsibility for. Mostly because it only serves to make it blatantly obvious that the person standing in front of her door is not intrinsically evil.

He turns slowly, like he’s a little worried about the reception he’ll get otherwise, a hand in his hair and one side of his mouth tugged up and--

“Hey,” Killian says. “Sorry, uh...hold off on the curses, ok? This isn’t an attack.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Was that not a funny joke?” “No.” “Ah,” he nods, lips quirking back down. He hasn’t moved his hand. “Right, right. Well, ok--that’s thrown a wrench in my plan, honestly.” Emma lifts her eyebrows. “Did you have a plan?” “Like. Half a one. Possibly three quarters.” “To?” “Talk to you? I saw you this afternoon.”

She cannot possibly get her eyebrows to go any higher up her forehead. She tries anyway. “You know you’re really not selling this whole no-stalker thing.”

“Yeah, I realize that,” Killian laughs, hand falling back to his side when he takes a step towards her. Emma doesn’t flinch. “I don’t usually work that far uptown, but Belle asked me to cover her shift and she’s been telling me about this woman coming in for the last few days asking about myths and legends and--” “--Hold on, hold on,” Emma interrupts sharply. Her hands are resting on his chest. She doesn’t remember deciding to do that. “Belle the very nice librarian? Is talking about me? To you?” “She’ll like that title quite a bit actually.” “Killian!”

Emma has to stop staring at his mouth. It’s doing weird things to her...soul. And the voice in the vision or whatever she’d had a few days before was oddly familiar. Killian swallows, tongue flashing between his lips and he moves his hand excruciatingly slow, fingers curling around her wrist like they belong there.

“Belle and I have worked at the library for years,” he explains. “Known each other since the dawn of time and all that cliché shit. She’s my friend. And Scarlet’s fiancée.” “No shit.”

He barks out a laugh and for one, incredibly crazy, sleep-deprived second Emma is certain he’s going to kiss her. Right there in the hallway.

She has to glance down to make sure she hasn’t burst into flames.

She hasn’t.

And Killian doesn’t kiss her.

Damn.

“I promise I’m telling you the complete and honest truth, Swan,” Killian grins. “But, uh...Belle’s been fascinated by whatever it is you’re working on. Said it was the project of the century or something. Only, well, she and Scarlet had to do some wedding venue thing today--” “--Wow, you’re really getting into the romance of it, huh?” His eyebrows are more impressive than hers. “I hate the uptown D. It always smells like garbage on that train.” “We’ve been walking.” “God, that would take forever.” Emma hums, tugging lightly on the shirt her one hand is still resting on “Tell the rest of your story. So, you were stalking me again?” “Not intentionally.”

“Points for effort I suppose,” she mutters, hopeful she’ll get another smile for her joke. She does. “And you didn’t want to...you know, say something when you saw me?”

“You looked rather caught up in thought, love. It’d be rude to interrupt someone so studious.” “Sure it would. So...what is this, then? You letting me know that you were staring longingly across--what’s the name of that one room?”

“The Rose Main Reading Room.” “Naturally.” Killian scoffs, ducking his gaze and digging the toe of his shoe into the horrendous carpet of their apartment building’s hallway. “I just...well, like I said, Belle mentioned that you’d been in there. Obviously she didn’t know I knew you, but--what?” The face thing. It’s got to stop.

“Do you?” Emma challenges, and it’s too much, an overstep and movement away from flirting, but her magic is soaring and she’s having a difficult time staying cognizant. Her fingers grip Killian’s shirt tighter. “Know me?” He blinks. “I’d like to.”

And that’s enough. It shouldn’t be. But it is. It’s enough and then some, a promise and a guarantee and Killian’s soft exhale is warm on Emma’s cheek when he moves his head back up.

He can’t possibly feel her magic.

She knows it.

She wants to be wrong.

Desperately.

He didn’t actually object to her use of longing.

“Huh,” Emma says lamely. Killian smirks. “Belle’s been talking about the research? “She’s a giant nerd.”

Her smile moves across her face like it belongs there, any sense of nervous energy disappearing into a cloud of magic and...something else. The cloud is metaphorical. “It sounds a little bit like you’re the giant nerd and you just don’t want to give yourself up.”

“I’m not disputing the possible idea that I may be passably curious in whatever you’re doing in the classics section and why some of the books that you’ve been requesting are not in English.”

“Shouldn’t there be, like, some kind of librarian-patron confidentiality agreement?” “Not as such, no.” Emma clicks her tongue. This is flirting. “Ok, so. Belle’s a great, big giant gossip and she tells you...what? That I’m researching something, some of which is in a language I absolutely cannot understand and--” “--I can.”

“I’m sorry, what?” “She mentioned one of the books you requested two days ago was a myth about the Olympian crystal and as far as I know the only version the Library has of that is very much in Greek.” “And you can read Greek?” Killian nods, all smug and certain and it’s not a bad look either. “Jeez,” Emma groans. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Why are you looking at scripts about the Olympian crystal, Swan?” “No explanation about the Greek thing, huh?” “I was in the Navy. It was an elective.” “Honestly?” He eyes her meaningfully, a look that probably shouldn’t send a spark of heat down her spine, but Emma’s lost control of the entire situation and even the idea of the Olympian crystal freaks her out. “You’re really not going to let this go? Why were you lurking outside my door? And don’t tell me it’s about the Greeks. It’s--I know, that’s not it.”

She really, truly does not mean for it to be an accusation. She doesn't. It just comes out that way. And she’s positive she’s right.

Killian sighs.

“I wanted to apologize,” he mutters. “For...well, upsetting your friend and even letting myself into your apartment and--”

“--I invited you in.” “Yeah, but that doesn’t…” He cuts himself off, a tick in his jaw when he clenches it. “What’s going on, Emma?” They both tense slightly at the use of her name – the first time that’s happened and it’s only their second conversation. Emma resists the urge to shake her arms at her side, flush with energy and magic and missing something. Something big.

“The Olympian crystal is supposed to be incredibly dangerous,” Killian continues. “Destroy someone’s entire existence. It’s not…” “Real?” “I didn’t say that.” “And what are you saying? Exactly?” Killian tilts his head, looking almost defeated. That’s a not-so-great look. “When I woke up the other morning your friend said that you couldn’t let people in. Why? Because it has to do with the Olympian crystal?”

“Oh my God,” Emma hisses, yanking her hand back to her side. She elbows herself in the ribs. “Who the hell do you think you are? And can you pick a goddamn lane? One second you’re apologizing and flirting and doing that stupid eyebrow thing and--” “--Stupid eyebrow thing?” “Shut up! I..” She exhales, hard enough that she ruffles the ends of her hair. Killian doesn’t move. “I can’t tell you what is going on, because it’s--well, frankly it’s way too much for you to deal with and you’re some guy from the hallway. You’re not...you don’t know anything about me. Nothing. And this would...you’d run.”

Killian takes a step back.

He looks like she’s slapped him.

“Try me,” he challenges, a sneer to his lips that makes Emma’s blood and magic boil in equal measure.

“No.” “Swan.” “No.” Killian clicks his tongue, the blue in his gaze getting sharper when he crowds back into Emma’s space. The hand that lands on her hip is heavy, warmth seeping through the thin material of her shirt and the light at the other end of the hall flickers again. “Try me,” he repeats. “You can even say it in Greek if you’d like.” “I can't speak Greek.” “Then I’m afraid we’re at an impasse, love.”

She considers her options. Option one is punching him squarely in the jaw. It’s appealing, honestly, but she can’t remember if she’s supposed to keep her thumb insider her fist or out and that kind of nullifies the whole thing. Option two is cursing him. Also appealing, but just as irresponsible, even if the magic roaring in her ears is any indication of what she’d be able to do.

Option three is..terrifying.

And, naturally, the one she picks.

“I’m a witch.”

The pinch that suddenly appears between Killian’s eyebrows will very likely linger there for the rest of his life. “Wait. What?” “I told you, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” “You’re putting words in my mouth, Swan. I never said that. I’m just...trying to process. Like. A real witch? Do you have a broom?” “That’s rude.” “That’s a legitimate question!” “No, it’s not. I don’t need a broom.” “Naturally.” She rolls her eyes at the forced casualness of his voice. “Ok, so why would a witch need a powerful soul destroyer from the Gods?”

“Sit down. This might take a couple minutes.”

Emma tells him. The whole goddamn story. Prophecy and evil beings and she’s not sure she can actually destroy someone’s essence like that, but she’s not sure she has another choice and she can’t figure out why the Dark One hasn’t made a move yet.

And Killian, to his credit, doesn’t interrupt. He listens and nods and that pinch is still there, but Emma figures that’s more than fair and her mouth is dry by the time she finishes. It really is an incredibly uncomfortable wall to lean against.

“Huh,” Killian says when Emma finishes, twisting her mouth at the rather lackluster response.

“You don’t believe me.” “I need you to stop making such sweeping assumptions about me, love. It’s disappointing.” “I don’t know you.” “And yet you told me about this.” “You were waiting outside my door to apologize for being invited inside.” He hums, fingers finding the back of his hair again and it’s a nervous habit. Emma’s starting to catalogue those. Maybe she’s also a librarian. “That’s true,” he admits. “But, uh...just to make sure I’ve got it all right here. You, the prophesied Savior of magic, left your magical hometown when the evil guy--” “--The Dark One.” “Right, right, when he showed up. And now you’re going to use the Olympian crystal to destroy him from existence.” “God, it sounds like shit when you say it like that.” “I’m afraid it’s not a particularly positive experience, Swan. The heroes of the stories didn’t use it very often. And how do you figure the crystal will help you restore magic? Keeping in mind that you do, in fact, still have to find it. If it’s real.”

He catches her hand when she tries to swat at him again.

“You’re no help at all.” “I’m pointing out facts. To go along with your fact-based story. You really can’t do any magic?” Emma makes a noise in the back of her throat, not an agreement nor a disagreement because she feels like she could teleport to the moon. Or the sun. They’re on some kind of light-based theme. She closes her eyes, trying to focus on the hum in the back of her head, a quiet push of energy and power and it should be easier than this.

It’s always been easier than this.

Her magic has always been instinctual, like walking back into a dream or falling into a memory. Now it feels like it’s buried deep within her, as if using it will take all her energy and she gasps at the taste of blood in her mouth.

She’d been biting her lip.

“Swan,” Killian mutters, thumb brushing over the curve of her jaw. “C’mon, look at me love. It’s fine, you don’t have to prove anything.” “Holy shit, are we honestly doing this again?”

Emma’s head slams into the wall when she snaps up, Ruby all but snarling a few feet away. Killian sits up straighter. “I don’t think we’ve actually been introduced,” he says, standing up and offering Ruby his hand. She glares at it. “Killian Jones. I live next door.” “And want to keep flirting with Emma.” “Yes, that’s true.”

Ruby clearly isn’t ready for that particular brand of honesty. Neither is Emma. Her heart grows and shrinks and grows again, hammering against her chest in double time. “Em,” Ruby calls, bypassing Killian’s outstretched hand to kick at Emma’s outstretched legs. “Are you going insane? Honestly, tell me because I feel like I deserve to know at this point.”

Emma opens her mouth – her own pointed and vaguely sarcastic remark sitting on the tip of her tongue, but her eyes move to Ruby’s hands and the longer-than-usual nails at the end of her fingers. “Rubes,” she nods. “Look.” “Fucking a…” “Yeah, that’s something isn’t it? When is the next--” “--Tomorrow, actually.”

“Does someone want to explain what is going on?” Killian snaps, and Emma’s going to concuss herself if she keeps slamming her head into the wall.

“Oh, uh, Ruby’s a werewolf,” she says. He can’t quite school his face on that one. It makes her smile. That feels wrong.

“Em, are you fucking kidding me?” Ruby yells. She’s jumping again, bouncing up and down while Killian stares at Emma and the whole thing has dissolved into chaos rather quickly.

“Should we worried about some kind of hallway transformation?” he asks.

Emma’s head hurts. She’s not sure if that’s from the repeated hitting or the eye rolling or how small that type had been, although it may just be a perfect storm of all of that, and Killian’s lips quirk up when she looks at him. “That’s what the amulet is for,” she explains, nodding at the the stone clutched in Ruby’s hand. “So she can control it and--” “--Like wolfsbane potion?” “I need you to stop comparing everything to Harry Potter, it’s not like that.” Ruby makes another strangled noise, disbelief in her gaze when she realizes what that means. Emma holds her hands up. “He can read Greek.”

Ruby stops making noise. At least any that are immediately threatening. “Yeah?” “Yeah. And, I...well, I trust him.”

In the grand scheme of everything, that’s definitely not the most surprising thing that has happened in the last few weeks, but it somewhere in the top five, at least, and Ruby’s mouth falling open is slightly offensive.

“That so?” Emma’s eyes dart towards Killian. He nods. “Yeah,” she says. “I do, and I know Regina said we have to be focused on this and I am. I am all in on operation: save everyone, but I can’t read Greek and his roommate is marrying that librarian.” “Belle?” “Why do you know her name?” “Why don’t you? We’ve talked to her, like, sixty-two times.”

“She brings up a fair point, Swan,” Killian murmurs, moving back towards her and every instinct in Emma’s body, magical or otherwise, screams out to let her head loll to the side. So she can rest it against his leg.

She doesn’t. So she’s at least got that going for her.

Ruby nods approvingly. “Exactly. You know, maybe you’re not the absolute worst. You can stick around, sailor.”

Killian’s hand falls on Emma’s shoulder, gripping her like he’s trying to stay afloat and they all need to stop making water puns. “What?” Ruby asks. “That was funny.” “Not the only one making bad jokes,” Emma mumbles, tilting her head up. As soon as she fixes her magic and gets rid of the Dark One and there are no more imminent threats to most of society, she’s going to break down this wall.

With her hands.

“That turned out to be a far more accurate joke than I was anticipating,” Killian chuckles. “Alright, so this leaves us...where, exactly? Because we still don’t know if the crystal is even a real thing.”

“Oh my God, did you tell him everything?” Ruby screeches, Emma nodding before she finishes the question. She huffs, but it doesn’t sound entirely like exasperation, more like acceptance and Emma will have to thank her for that eventually. “Ok, well--it is kind of weird that your roommate is marrying Belle. And you were just...out here when Em was coming back from her Twinkie quest.” “Zebra Cakes.” “It’s also weird that you remembered that.” “She bought a lot.” “And am still sitting right here,” Emma points out, but Ruby barely acknowledges her. She’s staring at Killian instead, a penetrating gaze that looks a little predatory and a little defensive and the déjà vu has got to stop.

“Wait say you, sailor?” Ruby asks. “You going to help? And not fuck this up for us?” “I don’t have any magic,” Killian says. “I’m not sure how I could possibly fuck it up for you.” Ruby hums noncommittally and the anxiety lingering in the pit of Emma’s stomach moves to wrap around several other internal organs. It’s the worst. “Alright,” Ruby mutters. “Well, I’m still not big on this whole fate thing, but there was a prophecy involved--did she tell you about that too?” Killian nods. “Figures,” she continues, “ok, you’re in, I guess. You better translate the hell out of the Greek.” Killian salutes. They order Chinese food. And he hands Emma the last fortune cookie without asking if she wants it. She totally wants it.

“Thanks,” she says, letting her fingers brush across his and the spark that snaps there is obvious and visible and Emma is positive it has to be a trick of her eyes. It isn’t. She’s really bad at lying, even to herself. “It’s getting kind of late.” Ruby fell asleep twenty minutes earlier, curled into the corner of the living room with more blankets than one person should be allowed to use.

“Yeah,” Killian breathes. He doesn’t move. He’s still staring at her fingers like Emma is going to combust. “What time tomorrow?” “It’s your job, not mine.” “Are you actually in law enforcement?” She laughs. “Yeah, actually. Even the magic folk need laws.” “And you’re the…” “Sheriff of Storybrooke.” Killian lets out a low whistle, thumb moving back and forth across the back of her wrist. “I’ll admit I’m a little intimidated by that kind of power.” “I’m not the mayor.” “There’s a mayor?” “It’s a real town,” she grins, and she’s not sure how they’ve gotten even closer. Her forehead is half an inch away from his, close enough she’s positive she can feel the heat radiating off him. “There’s just some caveats.” “Of the magical variety. Sheriff though, that sounds like an authority.” “Where are you going with this?” Killian shrugs – and there’s no explanation for how easy this is, like they’ve been having these kinds of conversations for their entire life. “If I tell you I have absolutely no idea, but I’m incredibly curious is that going to make you try and hit me again?” “That’s very dramatic. It’s not really hitting it’s--” “--Playful flirting?” His eyebrows defy modern science, twisting and jumping in time with Emma’s ridiculous pulse and she’s going to kiss him. Or he’s going to kiss her. It genuinely does not matter. So, naturally, it gets fucked up.

“Can you guys be quiet for two seconds?” Ruby whines, burrowing further into her den of blankets. Emma sighs, embarrassment mingling with disappointment and neither of those emotions make sense for a grown woman who fate claims will save anyone, but she suddenly feels like a teenager caught making out with her boyfriend and they didn’t even get that far.

“Ten?” Killian asks. “I’ll bring caffeine.” “You don’t have to do that.” “I know a place. I’ll be the one on the other side of the door, ok? Try not to curse me when you open it.”

He’s as good as his word the next morning, although he is a few minutes late, kicking lightly at the bottom of her door and the smile he flashes Emma as soon as she opens it is equal parts stupid, charming and stupid again. Just for good measure.

“Sorry I’m late. Too much stuff to hold, couldn’t knock,” Killian explains, answering a question Emma apparently didn’t need to ask since he appears to be some kind of mind reader. And she doesn’t actually make any noise, which is probably good, but she hadn’t really noticed before and now she’s kind of staring and there’s only one hand.

He’s only got one hand.

He nods towards one of the cups, lips shifting again when her fingers brush his and she’s half a second away from calling him out on how absolutely, goddamn charming he is when-- “There’s cinnamon in this.”

Killian blinks. “Yes.” “Why?” “What?” “Why?” Emma repeats, the word scratching its way out of her throat. It feels like an impossibly large question and an even bigger answer, his eyebrows flying into his hairline. “How did you know that?” “Do you need the coffee to make sense, Swan? You’re speaking in tongues.”

Emma sighs, kicking her foot forward until he gets the message and the cup is going to burn her hand. That probably isn’t a sign either. She’s a disaster. Honestly, prophecy can suck it. “How did you know about the cinnamon thing?” she presses, enunciating every syllable for emphasis.

Killian laughs.

It’s kind of offensive. It’s way too early for quasi-strangers that she inexplicably trusts with her deepest secrets to be laughing at her coffee habits.

And yet…

“Are you suggesting that you’re the only person who puts cinnamon powder in their coffee?” Killian asks. “That’s awfully presumptuous, don’t you think?” “Do you?” He stops laughing. Emma grins triumphantly. “That’s not an answer you know,” she continues, bumping her shoulder against his and she’d barely noticed that they were still moving. They’re already at the bottom of the stairs, the sounds of the city making their way towards Emma’s ears. It’s getting more and more difficult to breathe.

“No.” She almost doesn’t hear him at first – there’s a siren and people and then another siren because someone’s always seemingly getting arrested in Manhattan – but it’s a very slim almost and Emma’s head nearly flies off her neck when she snaps her gaze towards Killian. He doesn’t blink when she looks at him, staring straight ahead with a certainty that’s kind of jarring and kind of comforting and the absolute, visual embodiment of an answer.

He knew she put cinnamon in her coffee.

Weird. And not. Very not.

“Good guess, I suppose,” he mutters, but those words sound like a lie and taste bitter in the air around Emma and her magic needs to chill the fuck out.

She hums, taking a sip of coffee. It’s good. Sweet. It wasn’t a guess. “Right, right. Well, more points to you or whatever. So you want to go find some crystal that can wreck people?”

Any hint of tension around them evaporates as soon as Emma’s tongue presses into the corner of her mouth, a look that makes Killian’s expression shift slightly, eyes going just a bit darker and brows pulling low and the fluttering in her stomach is oddly pleasant.

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are, love.” “Incorrect. I think you think I’m hysterical and you want to help. You said so.”

That’s not flirting anymore. That’s serious – deathly, even, or however the Olympian crystal works. Emma’s still not really sure what the difference between a person’s life and their existence is and she’s only a little confused by the inclusion of souls in that, but she can’t think about any of those things when Killian’s eyes do something again.

She takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, I do,” he agrees softly, rocking forward like he’s trying to stop himself from touching her. It’s a dangerous line of thought. “Car or train?” “What?” “Car? Or train? I was serious about the uptown D though, it’s the worst train in the world.” “Seems kind of dramatic, right?” Killian shakes his head. “No, worst train. Bar none. I don’t think they’ve even gotten any of the new ones on there. The map’s not digitized or anything and I live in fear of what exists on those seats. Probably the plague or something.” “Jeez.” “Car.” “Why did you ask then?” “I was being polite,” he says, flashing a smirk over his shoulder when he pulls open the door and Emma can’t roll her eyes when she’s being impossibly charmed by the whole thing.

“Ah, so a gentleman, huh?” “Always.” Emma scoffs, but she knows he’s telling the truth – at least when it comes to her and neither one of them say anything about how close their legs are in the back seat of the cab he hails. He refuses to let her pay – “It’s absurd, you know I have a shit ton of money.” “How is that legal, Swan?” “I mean...it’s not really.” “Poor example of the law, love.” – tugging on her hand to weave through the crowd of people who seem to always be assembled in front of the library.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?” Killian hums in confusion, Emma yanking on the hand that’s never actually let go of hers because they’re not going to the room with the torture chairs. “What are you doing?” Emma asks again. “Don’t we have to go that way?”

She jerks her head back towards an ostentatious staircase with ridiculous banisters and what may actually be marble steps and the the tips of Killian’s ears go red. He squeezes one eye shut. “Uh, no,” he says, voice clipped and Emma can’t help the way her lips curl up.

“No? I think you’ve got a plan again.” “Part.” “You ever think you’ll come up with a full plan?” He clicks his tongue, but Emma’s close to actually giggling at this point and she barely notices any of the tourists anymore. “I think that I have,” he twists, pulling out a set of keys from his back pocket with the fingers that are currently twisted up with Emma’s, “the ability to provide the lady a very quiet room with, at least, one kind of chair that is not a patented torture device.” “You’re sure you not magic?” Emma quips, ignoring what those words do to her heart beat. She wishes the words would just be words. Maybe not in a library. “You seem awfully good at reading my mind.” “Those chairs are the worst. No give at them at all.” “Yeah, well, they’re wood or something.” “Wood,” Killian confirms, the hint of a laugh on the edge of his voice. Emma’s fairly certain she doesn’t imagine his head dropping closer to hers. It makes that one piece of hair drift dangerously close to his left eyebrow. “And old. We love old here, but they’re not exactly conducive to prolonged research. So,” he jangles the keys in front of Emma’s noise, “you’ve already stolen from CitiBank, what do you think about some casual breaking and entering?” Emma giggles. It’s ridiculous. And her magic flares to life again, the ends of her hair ruffling with the force of it until she’s a little worried she’s also inadvertently levitating. She’s not. That’s good.

Less good is the look on Killian’s face – slightly stunned and a little awed and he can’t feel that. That is impossible. People can’t feel other people’s magic. Unless…

No. No. Absolutely not.

“Swan?” “Yeah,” Emma nods, pushing the magic back into the corners of her brains and her right heel. Like it’ll ground her that way. “Let’s break some laws.”

The whole thing is actually ridiculously easy. They get the scripts from the main desk, Killian grinning at a few more workers and making quiet requests that sound a bit more like demands and Emma probably shouldn’t be impressed by the whole thing.

“You’re like...captain of the library,” she says, half a step behind him as he directs them down a hallway behind a different door. “How’d that happen?”

“You’re very loud.” “I’m curious. Not all of us are mind readers.” “That seems incorrect,” Killian objects, and he has to let go of her hand to get the keys while still holding everything else. Emma is not disappointed by that. Obviously. “Shouldn’t magic work that way?” Emma makes a contrary noise in the back of her throat. “No, no, you’re making sweeping judgments again. Magic’s very...particular, I guess. And personal. It settles into you and...I’m not very good at explaining it.” “I’m in no rush.”

The lock clicks, and Emma only just notices that this door has the words barred from the public emblazoned on the slightly foggy glass. She mumbles several pointed opinions under her breath and every single one makes Killian laugh.

So, points, or whatever.

And it is quieter, fewer footsteps and soft lights and the chair behind the far-too-large desk in the corner has padding.

“Oh shit, that looks comfortable,” Emma mutters before she can stop herself. Killian’s hand tightens when he laughs, head thrown back with ease and a distinct lack of any concern regarding the end of the world or the questionably late appearance of the Dark One.

“That was the point, love. C’mon, sit. Explain the particulars of magic to me.”

Emma does as instructed – only because her back is starting to ache again and she does her best not to audibly groan at how absurdly comfortable the chair is. Killian smirks. “You’re looking very pleased with yourself,” she points out, swinging her feet onto the edge of the desk. If only because she’s fairly certain it will make the smirk more powerful. She’s not disappointed.

“I love watching a plan come together, that’s why.”

“Yuh huh. And avoiding my questions, it seems.” “I think we may be running at the same pace on that one, actually.” “How’d you end up at the library?” Emma asks, doing her best not to make it sound like an accusation. Or an interrogation. “Doesn’t seem…”

Killian’s eyebrows jump. She’s given the smirk too much power. “Doesn’t seem like what?” “I mean...ok, well, you brought it up. You said that some guy wasn’t the worst thing you’d ever been called. So, like...what’s the worst?” “You’re very curious aren’t you?” “I just like to know who I’m talking to.” “Is that a law enforcement thing?” Killian counters, and they’re going in circles. Ruby’s going to be very annoyed if they don’t translate anything. “Or just a magic thing? A need for even more power?” His voice turns hard as he continues talking, an edge that wasn’t there when his fingers were laced through hers and Emma’s getting whiplash from it. “Wow,” she breathes. “That’s kind of a dick move.” Killian sighs, body sagging like he’s holding the world’s heaviest weight. “Yeah, it absolutely is. I--um, well it’s not a good story.” “I told you that I’m the prophesized Savior of magic yesterday and then couldn’t actually prove that I’m capable of doing magic. That’s not the best story either.” He doesn’t object, but Emma knows he wants to, is undeniably convinced that the story she’s about to hear is completely and utterly depressing and she’s only a little disappointed to be proved right. “I wasn’t lying about the Navy,” Killian starts, moving around the desk until he’s perched on the edge and neither one of them point out that his hand lands on her shin. “Enlisted as soon as I could, followed my brother and--” “--What’s your brother’s name?” “It was Liam.” “Oh.” HIs smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He squeezes his hand. “Right,” Killian says, hissing in a breath of air through his teeth. “We were--poor’s not really the right word. It was...bad. But I was young and didn’t realize at first and then Liam enlisted and it was a little better, until it wasn’t and--”

He cuts himself off, face turning pained and Emma doesn’t think. She moves, feet landing on the floor with a thud and her arm moves of its own volition, like there are magnets there or, more likely, magic and Killian presses his cheek against her palm as soon as her skin touches stubble.

Like they’ve done this before.

His fingers are cold when they wrap around her wrist.

“Anyway,” he continues brusquely, “Liam was dead and I was...drowning. God, that’s not even clever.” Emma chuckles, finally letting her forehead rest against his and she’s moved between his legs at some point, an arm around her waist that doesn’t feel strange at all. “It’s almost true though. I did not--” “--Cope?” He nods, eyes flitting down to the plastic at the end of his arm and Emma’s barely noticed it. Really. She’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. “I ran. Which, as you’d probably guess, is generally frowned on by the Navy and most of the armed services. Those in charge don’t really appreciate when you refuse to be held accountable for your actions. I’m not--I’d rather not be told what to do anymore.” “That’s understandable.” Killian jerks back like he’s been shocked, eyes wide and impossibly blue and Emma knows he can hear the magic singing in her veins. “It is,” she adds. “I--well, I get it, I mean. That’s...I’ve never really had something like that, but I...well, I said magic is personal right?” He nods, gaze turning piercing the longer he stares at her. “It is. And my magic has always been instinct. No thinking, just surges of power. But it’s also only ever been mine. Sometimes, when there’s a deep connection between people, they can feel it. David and Mary Margaret are constantly aware of where the other person is.” “That doesn’t sound like it would be enjoyable at all times, love,” Killian reasons. HIs thumb is doing that thing again.

“Eh, it’s more just...knowing that the other person can feel it. Does that make sense?” Another nod. Maybe the mind reading thing is paying off. “Because that means there’s that connection. That...I have no idea how I got to Storybrooke.” Killian blinks. “I don’t understand.” “Neither do I, honestly. I know I’ve been there for years, remember things with Ruby and Mary Margaret and even Regina, but I don’t...the specifics of it don’t make much sense.” “And you don’t…” “You need to finish your sentences,” Emma mutters, curling her fingers around the front of his jacket. “But, uh, no. Not that I’m aware of.” “You don’t know what I was going to ask.”

She scrunches her nose. “I’ve got a very strong hunch. And, no, I have no idea about parents or seemingly any family and it’s…well, lonely is depressing, isn’t it?” “A little.” “You’re no help at all,” Emma says, and she can’t move her hands. He’s still holding onto her, nearly every inch of him pressed up against every inch of her. It leaves her breathless and a little overheated and-- “You still didn’t tell me how you became captain of the library? What were you in the Navy, by the way? Like...an officer? Was there a uniform?” “It’s the Navy, love, of course there was a uniform.” She’s going to self combust.

“Not an answer.” “I think you’re thinking about me in uniform.” “Presumptuous.” The smirk has taken on a life of its own – aided by ridiculous eyebrows and a color Emma is certain she’s never seen before, particularly when his eyes flicker towards the lip she’s biting again. “Lieutenant,” Killian mutters, and if Emma was concerned about souls before it’s nothing to what she feels now, as if she’s being twisted and yanked and gravity appears to have disappeared entirely. “I was a lieutenant when I left.” She nods dumbly, trying to get her brain to stay on this plane of existence, a challenge she didn’t entirely expect after having just one cup of coffee that morning.

“I ended up in New York by chance,” Killian continues. “Bounced around a few other cities and thought about staying in Boston for a little while because, well, there’s water there, but...I started stacking books for minimum wage her and then just--”

“--Became captain of the library,” Emma finishes. Her throat is shrinking. That may just be her lungs.

“You’re giving me far too much credit, Swan. I just like knowing things.” “Because you’re a nerd.” He grins – and it would be so easy to kiss him, a quick head tilt and a push of her fingers in his hair, the grip on his jacket tightening slightly with the force of how much she wants to do just that, but Emma’s still teetering on the edge of something that may honestly be insanity and she...has to save the goddamn world.

“Wait until we translate things and then come back with the pointed insults.” Emma nods, a rushing in her ears and she’s glad for the desk so she doesn't fall over. And Killian’s arm. “Swan,” he says lightly, fingers ghosting over her spine, “what are you thinking, love?” “Nothing.” “You’re a rather terrible liar. Everything you’re thinking, straight on your face and--”

She’s going to scream. He won’t finish his sentences and her magic will not do what she wants and the world genuinely cannot wait any longer. “Let’s translate and then I’ll, um...I’ll buy you coffee once we know if I can wreck the Dark One, ok?” The smirk is a genuine smile. It’s worse. Better. Emma clearly needs to read more.

“Of course,” Killian says, moving her back into the chair and her back appreciates that. “Give me a couple minutes, ok?”

It doesn’t even take a few minutes. Emma’s a little annoyed by that and just...everything, because the, approximately, two seconds it takes for Killian’s eyes to scan the research in front of them leads to one very obvious and world-ending realization--

“It’s broken.” Emma waves both her hands in the air, jumping out of the chair in the process. “What is?” “The Olympian crystal,” Killian answers, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s broken. By Zeus himself, if I’m reading this right.” “And we’re sure you’re doing that?” “Swan.” “I know, I know,” she sighs, and that one cup of coffee was not nearly enough. “So what--why was Zeus an ass about this?” “Well, you’ll find that, more often than not, that was just his normal state of being, but, according to this particular legend, Hades had used the crystal to destroy Kronos.” “Am I supposed to know who that is?” Killian smiles, moving back into her space and it takes some finangling to get into the chair with her perched on his leg. Strangers. Neighbors. Obviously not that. The light in the corner of the room flickers. “He was a Titan,” Killian explains. “Father of several gods, including Zeus and Hades and, if you don’t want to interrupt me again, was also kind of a dick.” “Seems to be a trend.” “It’s par for the course when it comes to mythology, I’m afraid.” Emma scoffs, letting her head loll onto his shoulder. “Anyway, what I just read claims that Kronos had chosen Zeus to be king of Olympus and Hades didn’t particularly like it. So. He tried to use the crystal to destroy Zeus. Only it didn’t work and Zeus was well...Zeus.” “Meaning?” “Meaning he destroyed the crystal so Hades couldn’t destroy him. Self defense.” “He’s a god,” Emma argues. “That’s bullshit. So there’s no crystal? Nothing? Not even pieces I could find somewhere?”

Killian shakes his head. “It’s in the Underworld.” “Oh, well, yeah, naturally. Fucking hell.” “So, uh...it seems in order to get the shards of the crystal from Hades, you’d...you know, have to actually die.” “I understand how the Underworld works,” Emma snaps, more ridiculous eyebrow movement and lip quirks and she’s going to fall on the floor. It’s the most absurd sentence in a conversation about Greek gods. “God, don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “I don’t know. Like...I can only say mind reader so many times before it starts to get redundant.”

Killian chuckles, nosing at the curve of her shoulders and Emma’s fingers are going to actually spark if she doesn’t get them in his hair sometime soon. “God forbid we start getting redundant. So, what now, Swan?” That’s not the question she expects.

“What?” “Well, it seems to me the Underworld option is a bit out of the realm of possibility--” “--And possibly not even true.” She’s starting to resent the tongue click a little bit, leaning back when Killian does it again. His eyes are wide. And she hadn’t been that off about the finger sparking thing.

Emma mumbles a few curses under her breath, including some rather scathing opinions about every Greek god she can think of, but the light in her hand doesn’t disappear and the bulb on the other side of the room shatters loudly.

“Holy fuck,” she breathes, every letter shaking its way out of her. “What the hell, what the hell, what the hell?”

She tries to jump again, is determined to pace out the energy she can feel shooting up and down her spine and every single one of her limbs, but the arm around her waist is too tight and the look on his face makes Emma freeze. “Hey, hey, relax,” Killian says, but there’s a worry to his voice that makes Emma’s lungs pinch again. “It’s ok. It’s ok. You’re ok, just breathe.”

She doesn’t follow instructions. Maybe they’re both bad at that.

“Emma, c’mon, look at me, love. It’s fine. That wasn’t you.”

There’s a sudden surplus of oxygen in her lungs – a complete turnaround that’s jarring and terrifying and the look on Killian’s face is dangerously close to pleading. Because it doesn’t make sense. He couldn’t know that.

“Right at me,” he whispers, fingers moving across her like he’s trying to make sure she’s still there or something as equally impossible as him knowing what magic was her magic. It certainly wasn’t the light bulb thing. “Count in three and exhale five.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Emma mumbles. Her head falls forward again, colliding with his collarbone and the skin under her his warm.

She needs to stop making so many sun puns in her head.

“Everything about this has been ridiculous.” “God, it’s really frustrating when you’re right.”

He laughs again, easier than it’s been all day and the crinkles around his eyes are distracting. “You’re not counting, love.” “And you’re endearment obsessed.”

Killian hums, fingers cupping her elbow because Emma’s never actually let go of his jacket and it takes approximately one deep breath, the word cyan flashing across her brain and the magic in the air turning electric for everything to feel as if it’s, finally, settled.

“You alright?” Killian asks lightly, and Emma licks her lips before she answers. She’s got absolutely-no-fucking idea.

“Where’d you learn the breathing thing?” “Honestly?” “No point in beating around metaphorical bushes, right?” She can see his jaw tense, lips pressed together until they’re barely more than a line and that’s kind of...awful. “Right,” he sighs. “I, uh...have no idea. Just felt like the right thing to say.” “Ah.” “Yeah. Well--that’s magic, huh?” “Something like that,” Emma says, anxious energy curling in the pit of her stomach. He’s still staring at her like he’s surprised she’s there. She’s kind of surprised he hasn’t run. Or she hasn’t run. God, they’re a mess. “Thanks for the help. With the uh...breathing thing.” Emma is going to curse his tongue. It darts between his lips and clicks in reproach because they both know they were half a second away from something and he knew what to say and none of this makes sense. They’ve got to get out of that rom – the walls feel like they’re closing in, air turning heavy and a little muggy, but there’s still an arm wrapped around her middle, skin tingling and pulse racing and--

“My pleasure.” Emma scoffs because none of this is fun and he can’t possibly keep staring at her like that. It’s unnatural. It’s-- “Ah, fuck it,” Emma mutters, and the rest is only slightly irrational. All things considered. She yanks on the front of his jacket, pulling him forward when he lets out a soft grunt of surprise and that’s the only sound she registers until her brain realizes she’s the one making the sounds, a groan and something that might actually be a moan because Killian is impossibly good at kissing her.

Emma’s fingers fly into his hair, carding through strands and scratching lightly at the back of his head. She still doesn’t let go of the jacket. His teeth nip at her lower lip, nose pressed against her cheek and she can feel him inhale, like he’s trying to breathe her in.

She honestly wouldn’t object.

They only pull apart so they can fall back together, a steady rhythm of lips and tongue and slightly heaving shoulders. She can feel his fingers curl around the back of her head, holding her there with a desperation that should probably be far more terrifying than it is. Instead, it’s almost comforting, like he wants her there or needs her there and Emma’s magic rushes through every inch of her, a burst of power and flare of belief and they’re both going to knock this goddamn chair over.

They rock back and forth, trying to occupy the same space and it’s as if someone’s hit some kind of switch. Or moved them to the next level. Of making out. And possibly getting this jacket out of the way.

Killian’s fingers brush over skin, working a sound out of Emma that she refuses to be held accountable for, particularly when she can feel his smile against her mouth.

“That’s stupid,” Emma grumbles, drawing a laugh out of him and the sound feels like it works its way into the very middle of her, settling between the spaces in her ribs and dousing out that nervous, anxious feeling lingering in her stomach.

“You can’t say things like that, Swan, you’ll give a man a complex.” “Yuh huh, you seem to be really lacking confidence.” “Maybe I’m just particularly inspired.” “What a line.”

He leans back, lips far too red and gaze drifting a little bit towards wrecked in a way that makes Emma wonder if they do, in fact, have to leave this room. “That’s not what it is,” Killian says, another promise she hopes she’s not imagining. “I, um...I think I could--” And just like that, the whatever is gone completely and the darkness on the edge of Emma’s vision starts to creep back in and the ringing phone in her pocket is impossibly loud.

“--Don’t,” she warns. “Don’t say things you can’t actually mean.” “Swan…” She shakes her head quickly, standing up and all but slamming the phone against her ear. “What?”

The scream she hears makes Emma’s knees buckle, a piercing sound that’s nothing short of absolutely terrified. “Emma,” Ruby cries, other voices in the background and a few grunts of pain from a person she can’t distinguish. “Minions. Now. Here. Now!”

The line goes dead, but that may be because Emma’s dropped her goddamn phone and she needs to stop doing that.

“Swan--” Killian snaps his jaw shut as soon as he sees whatever look has landed on her face and she barely gets her hang onto me out before she’s lacing her fingers through his and squeezing her eyes closed.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #all was golden in the sky #that stupid witch fic #sorry for the posting delay guys being an adult is the worst

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spookadoop · 6 years

Text

American Sweetheart (Sweet Pea)

“Every snake has a soft underbelly...and she’s yours.”

Three | Four | Five

You hadn’t spoken a word to Sweet Pea after the night he made it clear just how against the idea of you becoming a Serpent he was. You both seemed to have a mutual hostility towards each other. It also temporarily knocked your idea of becoming a Serpent out of your head. You explained it to Toni at the Wyrm like this, anything that increased the time you had to spend around the anger-inducing boy was something you did not need in your life.

“Sweet Pea will get over it eventually,” Toni replied, sliding a glass of water to you.

“I just wanna know why he’s so against it. I mean, I know I’m not from the Southside - but you guys don’t seem to mind...So why does he?” You asked, mumbling to yourself near the end. Toni gave you a pitying smile.

“Sweet Pea has his own reasoning about things. It’s impossible to know what’s going through his head, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know what he’s doing half the time. I’m sure he thinks he’s doing something good by not wanting you to join our bloodthirsty, evil gang,” She comforted, nodding her head to where the sullen boy sat, discussing something with Fangs, no doubt something “only Serpents were allowed to know”.

You glanced over at him, narrowing your eyes. “Doubtful,” You mumbled. “He just hates me.”

As if sensing your eyes on him, Sweet Pea looked up from where he was talking to Fangs, gaze meeting yours. Noticing your bottom lip sticking out in a pout he tightened his own into a line.

“Why don’t you just stop being a dick and talk to her?” Fangs asked from beside him. He effectively scared the living shit out of the other boy, causing him to spill his drink on the table .

“Nice job, Fogarty,” He growled out, slamming his glass upright on the table. He snatched napkins from a nearby table, angrily cleaning up the mess. Fangs rolled his eyes, lifting his cup to his lips as Jughead walked through the doors.

“I have an announcement to make” The beanie-clad boy called out.”My dad’s getting out of jail.” The bar erupted into cheers at the news, glad their leader would soon rejoin them.

“And when he does,” Jughead continued, “I’ll bring him up to speed about our plans with Mayor McCoy.”

You smiled, glad to see your friend in such high spirits, only to drop that smiled when you heard Tallboy speak. “That’s brilliant...”

Jughead’s eyes shot to the man. “Do you have a problem with that, Tallboy?”

“Your old man?” He asked, standing up from his seat. “No, I got no problem with him. You want us to sit down with the Mayor.”

“I do,” Jughead replied, looking around the bar. “He’s right. I think we can bring the Southside back. But, it’s going to take work. And it’s going to take compromise.”

Tallboy laughed humorlessly as you glanced at Toni, fearing Tallboy might try to fight Jug.

“Bring the Southside back... You’ve been here all of five minutes.” The bearded man sneered, glaring at Jughead.

“Tallboy, I’m sick of you acting like a little bitch. Whispering behind my back hat I’m half a Serpent? That I don’t belong here?” Let’s put it to a vote,” Jughead growled out, eyes narrowing at the man. He turned his eyes from Tallboy to the rest of the bar’s occupants. “If you guys think what I’m doing is wrong, I’ll step aside.”

Toni stood up, “All those who stand with Jughead and think Tallboy should shut the hell up?” She called, raising her hand, followed by many others. You looked over at Sweet Pea, feeling a spark of happiness that his hand went up in the air as he walked closer to where Jughead and Tallboy stood. You wanted to raise your hand too, but didn’t. You still weren’t a Serpent.

You smirked slightly when Tallboy walked away silently, noting the hint of pride that appeared in Jughead’s eyes at the support he was receiving from his fellow Serpents. You whispered in Toni’s ear, not wanting to interfere with the atmosphere left from the dominance showdown, letting her know you were leaving, promising to text her once you got home so she would know you were safe.

You slipped through the crowds and out into the chilly night air. You got maybe a few yards out of the parking lot before you began to get paranoid. The Black Hood was still on the prowl, for all you knew he could be just out of your eyesight that very moment. Just watching... waiting to attack...

You let out a scream at the sound of an engine revving. You let out a breath of relief when you realized it was the familiar purr of a Harley behind you, not the growl of some murder machine. You turned around, lips tightening into a line at the sigh of the motorcycle’s rider.

“What do you want, Sweet Pea?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Sweet Pea exhaled through his nose, “It’s not safe for Southsiders to be out here alone at night. Not with all the crazy, self-entitled Northsiders running around and blaming us for their problems.”

“Us?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you turned your back on the boy, walking away at a slow pace. “I’m not a Southsider, remember? From what you say, I’m a self-entitled Northsider. Isn’t that right, Sweets?” You spat out, hearing his bike slowly creeping behind you.

"You live on the Southside of town. To them, you’re just as bad as an actual Southsider. Now get the fuck on my bike so I can take you home,” The boy shot back, irritation coating his words.

You growled under your breath. “I’m not a Southsider. I’m not a Serpent. Therefore, you have no duty to protect me. Now leave me alone.”

“Sweet Pea, I am telling you to leave me alone,” You growled, quickly getting fed up with the Serpent.

“And I’m telling you to get on my fucking bike so I can take you home. The others would be pissed if I let you get murdered or something.”

“Yeah, of course that’s why. Because you obviously don’t care,” You retorted under your breath, refusing to stop walking.

“What was that?” Sweet Pea snapped, stopping his bike. “You wanna say again?” He asked as he stepped off his bike, almost daring you to repeat yourself. You stopped in your tracks, turning around to face the boy, hands shoved in the pockets of your jeans.

“I said,” You started, eyes narrowed into slits, preparing yourself for the fight you knew was about to come. “That of course that’s why you’re doing this, because you obviously don’t fucking care about me, you’ve made that pretty fucking clear!”

You typically weren’t a person for cussing, only doing it on occasion thanks to your overly strict father, but when you were around Sweet Pea it seemed your mouth had a mind of its own. He just had a way of making your blood boil without even actively trying. His mere presence made you want to knock yourself out with an encyclopedia.

“Bullshit,” Sweet Pea scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I haven’t been that bad to you.”

Your jaw dropped in pure astonishment at the audacity he had to say that. “Haven’t been hat bad? Haven’t been that bad!? Yes, you have! You have been a fucking asshole to me ever since I came here! Maybe if you pulled your goddamn head out of your ass for once, you’d see that! Since I step foot in the Southside you have made it your duty to relentlessly remind me just how much I don’ fit in here! Don’t you think I fucking know that!? It isn’t exactly some big secret I stick out like a sore fucking thumb, Sweet Pea! I’m not the one pretending to be something I’m not!”

“Oh and I am!?” He shot back. He clenched his fists together, stalking closer until the two of you were face-to-face. Well, face-to-abdomen. “Newsflash, Princess. I act exactly like me and no one else.” He growled, obviously trying to keep his anger under control. You let out a humorless laugh, staring up into his furious eyes with your own.

“You pretend to be such an emotionless badass, like violence is your first and second nature. But in all reality? You’re fucking not! No one is emotionless, Sweets! No matter how much you try to fucking act like it! You have emotions, whether you like it or not! Eventually, you’re gonna have to fucking show some type of emotion! But I’m not going to endure your bullshit any longer to find out,” You spat out, turning around and storming off. Sweet Pea made no move to stop you, standing quietly as you watched him disappear.

You made your way into your trailer, dragging your feet with every step. The only person awake when you walked in was your mom, sitting at the kitchen table with a small photo album in front of her. You frowned when you saw the tear tracks on her cheeks.

“Mom? What are you doing?” You called out, watching her shaking figure freeze.

“Oh, you’re home. Hi, honey,” Your mom sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Just looking at an old photo album from when I was a teenager. Reminiscing. You look just like I did when I was your age you know? Well, almost”

You walked over, eyes falling on a photo of her kissing a dark haired boy with high cheekbones and a tattoo you couldn’t decipher. “Who’s that?”

“Just an old boyfriend,” Your mom whispered, lips pulling into a sad smile. Raising an eyebrow, you flipped through the rest of the album. “I guess I kind of do look like you did...” You paused, pointing to a picture that held a younger version of your mom with a tanned skinned boy at a birthday party. “What about him? Who’s he?”

“Oh...Just an old friend I haven’t seen in a long time,” She sighed, voice laced with sorrow. She cleared her throat, closing the album. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay, keep an eye out for your brother’s for me? They’re off with some friends getting into some type of trouble like always.”

You nodded as she kissed your cheek, walking off to her bedroom. Once her door was closed and her light was off, your eyes fell back to the album. You glanced back to your mom’s door, making sure it stayed closed as you slid into a chair. You gnawed on your bottom lip, flipping open the album. Your mom never really spoke about her past, and from the dates written on the album cover she should have been dating your dad sometime in it. She should have photos of them together right? Maybe you could find photos where your mom and dad actually looked in love, not like their marriage was some business arrangement.

You flipped through the pages of the album, examining each photo and the dates they were taken. A lot of the photos were taken with that dark haired boy, with very few captions. Most of them consisted of some version of “My love and I...” followed by a series of hearts. Your eyebrows furrowed as you passed through the year your mom and dad said they stared dating. There were no photos of them together, they were all either filled with the tan boy, the dark haired boy, or your mom’s other friends. Not a single picture had anything to do with Oswald Hart.

You had seen pictures of your dad as a teenager, so it wasn’t like you just didn’t recognize him. Your brothers looked a lot like him, Travis being his almost exact replica. He wasn’t in the album at all. It was mostly the brunet. Shaking your head, you closed the album. You were still wound up after your fight with Sweet Pea, so you figured you were just out of it. However, there was something you just couldn’t seem to shake off.

That guy looked a lot like Jughead.

(Babydoll finally snapped and something shady was discovered about her mom. What do you guys think is gonna happen next? Sorry it’s so short! I’m trying to get back into my old writing ways, bear with me! The sequel to Old Habits Die Hard is also almost finished!)

@lady1505 @sweet-peas-serpents @teaparadiso @nonononononono-i-cant @trash-can-beebo @k-n-e @iwannadiehere @sweetpeaprompts @hsloves12 @polskii-darria @sarasmismyonlydefence @oceanshockey

#american sweetheart #sweet pea #sweet pea fanfic #sweet pea x reader #southside serpents #riverdale #cw riverdale #jughead jones #toni topaz #fangs fogarty

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neyla9 · 7 years

Text

Cipher’s House: Fallen Star Chapters 8-10

Ao3 Version

The hotel was starting to feel unsafe. After the encounter with the plant that tried to eat me, coupled with the host’s lack of reaction, it seemed that there was something deeply wrong and dangerous with the place. Why would my brother ever choose to stay here?

“So how was the plant anyway?” Cipher suddenly asked, breaking Mabel out of her thoughts.

“What do you mean?” Mabel responded, wary of his answer.

“Well, how close did it get to eat you?” Cipher clarified, smiling as if there was nothing sinister about his question.

Mabel didn’t verbally reply. She just held up her arms, showing off her torn sleeves and wounded arms.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Cipher cooed, but neither his expression nor his tone showed any sign of worry. “Let me show you to the hotel’s doctor; he’ll patch you up in no time~”

“Your hotel has a doctor?” Mabel asked skeptically, but still followed Cipher back inside.

“Yes,” Cipher looked over his shoulder, whether to make sure that Mabel was following him or to keep eye contact, Mabel wasn’t sure. “And don’t worry; he’s very nice. He’ll be more than happy to help you.”

Cipher led Mabel to another hotel room, a decent walk away from her own. He knocked on the door three times and it slowly opened, revealing an old man with purple-blue skin, almost as if his entire body was one big bruise, but Mabel could get past that; maybe it was just a weird skin condition. What she couldn’t explain away was the giant screw stuck in the old man’s head! It was huge, and from the looks of it, it went right through his head, kinda like one of those gag hair bands with the arrow or knife, but by the way the screw gleamed in the limited light, it looked real.

The old man smiled when he spotted Mabel, and even though she couldn’t see his eyes past his glasses, she got the feeling that there was an evil glint in them.

“Dr. Screwloose,” Cipher addressed the old man. “This is Mabel Pines. As you can see, she’s been attacked, and she needs your help to recover from her wounds~”

“Ah, it would be my pleasure,” the doctor grinned and stood aside. “Come in! Come in!”

Mabel stood in place at first, but when she saw Cipher step inside, she went along; she might not have wanted to go inside that room, but she was more scared of being all alone at that moment.

“Now, are we talking anything special here?” the doctor asked Cipher, his voice almost too low for Mabel to hear it.

“I’ll put my trust in your impeccable skills, doctor,” Cipher chuckled, his voice just as low. “Let her be your canvas; I have no real need for her.”

“W-what does that mean?” Mabel stuttered, slowly backing away from the other two.

“Oh, did you hear that?” Cipher’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t lose his mirthful tone.

“Don’t worry, Bill,” the doctor laughed and grabbed Mabel by the arm. “I’ll see what I can do.”

With Cipher’s help, the doctor managed to strap Mabel down to a metal operating table, a large metal strap closed around her waist and arms, keeping her in place.

“I’m sorry, but I need to leave now,” Cipher told Mabel after strapping her to the table. “Someone needs to run this hotel after all,” he stage whispered to the doctor, who laughed in response. “Plus, it’s that time of the month, so I don’t have a lot of free time today~”

“You know, I would be more than happy to fill in for you once in a while,” Screwloose said with a creepy smile on his lips.

Cipher’s smirk immediately fell, replaced with an expression of cold anger.

“I hope that was a joke, Doctor,” Cipher said with a completely serious and almost threatening tone.

“Fair enough,” Screwloose shrugged. “But I’m still mad you’re hogging him all to yourself.”

“Everyone else is fair game,” Cipher growled before exiting the room.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Screwloose chuckled in a friendly manner. It might have eased Mabel’s worries if the doctor didn’t have a giant screw stuck through his head. “Bill and I have a slightly… complicated relationship.”

“What are you gonna do to me?” Mabel asked, already shaking with fear. She was curious about whom the two men had been talking about, but right now figuring that out wasn’t her top priority.

“Hmm, that is an excellent question,” the doctor paused, looking like he was pondering. “I will definitely have to do something about that nose… Oh, and your earlobes of course. Then I should probably take a look at some of your organs; how would you like to have seven kidneys?”

“You’re joking, right!?” Mabel exclaimed, shaking with fear while Screwloose started digging through his tools.

“Your canines could be sharper too,” the doctor mumbled. “But I still don’t know if I should sharpen the ones you have, or replace them with new ones…”

Mabel began to thrash, trying in vain to break out of the metal strap. Doctor Screwloose had his back turned, still looking through his tools and mumbling to himself about what he wanted to do to Mabel.

She could feel her body break into a cold sweat. The sweat ran down her brow, her back, and even… her arms… That gave her an idea; she used the sweat on her arms as a sort of lubricant, allowing her to squeeze out of her restraints.

She tried to sneak out of the room, when Screwloose finally turned around, holding up a knife that looked more suited for chopping meat than performing a delicate operation.

“Huh? How did you escape?!” the doctor growled and began advancing towards Mabel. “Looks like I’ll have to cut you into pieces and put you back together!”

Mabel honestly didn’t know if she could take on the doctor, especially since he was carrying a weapon, so she did the only thing she could think of, and ran out of the room and back into the hotel’s hallways.

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

I was running through the hotel, hoping I would run into someone who could save me. Doctor Screwloose kept chasing me, even when I ran up the stairs and into another hallway.

As Mabel ran through down the hallway, she could still hear Screwloose behind her; his heavy steps and loud voice especially.

“Come now!” he called out to her. “It’ll be over before you know it!”

Mabel almost felt like sobbing. She was running on adrenaline alone, and already felt like she was about to collapse.

Turning a corner, she spotted a door which was slightly ajar, a white-gloved hand reaching out of it and waving Mabel closer. Desperate, Mabel ran through the door, which shut right behind her. Shortly after, she heard Screwloose’s steps as he ran past.

“Thank y-“ Mabel paused when she got a good look at her savior. He was male, wore white gloves on both hands, along with a dark purple suit. His skin, however, was covered in stitches, with the skin itself resembling felt. His body and limbs were thin, with big hands and feet, and a big, very round head. His face didn’t have a nose, just a black opening for a mouth, and two big, black buttons for eyes, and his hair seemed to be made out of strands of yarn in every color of the rainbow.

“You’re a new guest, aren’t you?” the man(?) spoke. “I haven’t met every single guest staying her, but… you are different… There’s something different about you. Different like the others…”

“Uh…” Mabel let out an awkward cough, unsure of how to react to the sight in front of her. “Thank you for saving me. My name is Mabel.”

“Oh, that is a lovely name,” the man smiled widely at her before grabbing one of her hands. “Do you work with your hands?”

“Um, I like to knit,” Mabel shrugged, carefully pulling her hand back.

“Yes, knitting is great,” the man nodded. “Oh, sorry I forgot to introduce myself; I’m The Dollmaker. I make dolls.”

“What kind of dolls?” Mabel asked warily, ready to bolt at a minute’s notice.

“Knitted ones, sewn ones, porcelain ones, wooden ones,” The Dollmaker listed off. “Do you wanna see them?”

“… Okay,” Mabel responded hesitantly. The Dollmaker didn’t seem hostile, maybe just a bit not there. Anyway, for now she would rather stay with him than go back out there and run into Doctor Screwloose again.

The Dollmaker led Mabel further into his room, revealing shelves upon shelves of dolls, each one unique. Some were tiny enough to fit in her hand, others were as big as her.

“So, what do you do anyway?” the Dollmaker asked, picking up a random doll from the shelf.

“Uh, I’m a student at the moment,” Mabel responded. “I’m studying to become a fashion designer-“

“No, I mean, what do you do?” he reiterated. “How long have you’ve been staying here?”

“This is my second day, I think,” Mabel frowned, still not getting what the Dollmaker meant. “It’s been dark for as long as I’ve been here, so I’m not sure.”

“Oh, that’s why you’re different,” the Dollmaker mumbled and put the doll away. “Did you know you can stay at the hotel forever?”

“I think the owner said something like that,” Mabel nodded.

“… Do you want to?”

“No,” Mabel shook her head almost violently.”As soon as I get my brother, we’re both getting out of here. Why would you even want to stay here!?”

“… I thought we could have been friends,” he sighed sadly. “What kind of doll would you like to be?”

“E-excuse me?” Mabel looked around as all the dolls began to move, rising from their sitting position.

“I am the Dollmaker. I make dolls. Sometimes, I make dolls out of guests trying to leave…”

Mabel’s only reaction was to run. She could hear the Dollmaker and his army of dolls pursue. She also felt several dolls hit her, either because the Dollmaker was throwing them at her, or because they were trying to jump her. Some of them managed to grab Mabel, clinging to her clothes or arms, slowing her down, but she shook them off, and even heard the porcelain dolls break on the floor.

Finally she could see the door. She grabbed the handle, flung it open, exited, and slammed it shut. She took a moment to calm down, taking a few deep breaths; she even let out a couple of sobs at her near death experience.

Then, she felt something crawling on her shoulder. She grabbed it, threw it to the floor, and stomped hard on it several times, tearing up the doll’s fabric in the process, for it had been one of the dolls. However, instead of normal, white cotton, or a similar material, the doll was stuffed filled organs… Organs that had been smashed by Mabel’s foot and were now covering her shoe.

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

I- I hadn’t expected the doll to be filled with guts! Oh god, the smell is horrible… I think… I think I’m gonna puke. I need to find some place to clean the worst off...

Mabel clutched her stomach and covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve. The stench of the splattered organs was downright disgusting, making her stomach churn at the smell and sight.

She wobbled off down the hallway, hoping to find a washroom or something to clean her shoe.

In the midst of the numbered rooms, Mabel did come across a door that looked different; it was a double-door made of glass, however the glass was in a delta frost design, making it impossible to see through it, aside from a couple of colors. Still, Mabel could clearly hear voices coming from behind the door, and given her current track record with the hotel’s inhabitants, she decided to place her ear against the door instead of entering it, to try and hear what was going on.

The voices were heavily muffled, but she could hear what sounded like sobbing or even crying coming from behind the door, a different, also muffled, voice responding:

“Now, now, it’s almost over~”

She heard a scraping sound along with someone screaming.

“You aren’t being very cooperative today,” the voice from before said. “Should I bring out the machine?”

Mabel didn’t hear a reply, but soon the sound of some kind of machine was heard, whirring and buzzing, and Mabel heard several hysterical screams before the machine was seemingly shut off.

“Alright, and we’re done for this month,” the unknown voice chuckled. “Oh! Unless you wanna make it special?! Do you want oil or-? You know what? It’ll be a surprise~”

Suddenly the door was flung open, pushing Mabel into the wall and closing again before she had a chance to see what was inside. The person who had exited turned out to be none other than Cipher.

“Ah, I see you’re still kicking,” the host greeted Mabel with mirth in his voice.

“Wha- What were you doing in there?” Mabel demanded to know, her guts-covered shoe completely forgotten in favor of what had possibly transpired behind those doors.

“Oh, this is the hotel’s second spa,” Cipher explained. “We already had one, but it’s geared more towards bathing and such, whereas this is more of a massage spa, I guess, although it’s also used for… other appointments…”

“What were you doing in there?!” Mabel repeated, more desperately this time.

“One of our guests needs… a treatment once every month. And being the gracious host that I am, of course I’ve decided to assist him.”

Considering what counted as a doctor’s appointment in this hotel, Mabel wasn’t sure she wanted to know what this treatment even was.

“Anyway, feel free to keep exploring my hotel; I’m sure your brother is hiding just behind the corner!” Cipher chuckled while turning around to leave. “Oh, but do refrain from looking through this room until after me and my guest are finished.”

After Cipher had turned a corner, Mabel focused on the doors; for all she knew, some poor guy could be stuck in there, suffering endless bounds of torture at Cipher’s hand! Sure, there was the possibility that Cipher had told the truth, and he really was just helping out one of the hotel guests, but Mabel doubted someone as sadistic as Cipher seemed to be would do that out of the goodness of their heart.

She took a moment, trying to steel her nerves for what was undoubtedly going to be a bloody sight to behold, before placing her hand on one of the knobs, and prepared to open.

Before she had the chance, however, a hand grabbed hers and violently pulled it away, holding it in a tight, painful grip. It was Cipher, and he looked pissed.

“What were you doing?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

“I- I was just going to…” Mabel stuttered. She didn’t know how to explain herself, and what was worse, she had no idea what this furious Cipher would do to her.

“Did you think that was smart?” Cipher laughed mockingly, still glaring at her angrily. “I think you need to think about what you were just about to do…”

He let go of Mabel’s hand, and suddenly the floor under her collapsed.

#billdip #cipher's house #cipher's house au

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readbookywooks · 7 years

Text

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes

Harry spun faster and faster, elbows tucked tightly to his sides, blurred fireplaces flashing past him, until he started to feel sick and closed his eyes. Then, when at last he felt himself slowing down, he threw out his hands and came to a halt in time to prevent himself from falling face forward out of the Weasleys' kitchen fire. "Did he eat it?" said Fred excitedly, holding out a hand to pull Harry to his feet. "Yeah," said Harry, straightening up. "What was it?" "Ton-Tongue Toffee," said Fred brightly. "George and I invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer...." The tiny kitchen exploded with laughter; Harry looked around and saw that Ron and George were sitting at the scrubbed wooden table with two red-haired people Harry had never seen before, though he knew immediately who they must be: Bill and Charlie, the two eldest Weasley brothers. "How're you doing, Harry?" said the nearer of the two, grinning at him and holding out a large hand, which Harry shook, feeling calluses and blisters under his fingers. This had to be Charlie, who worked with dragons in Romania. Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it. Bill got to his feet, smiling, and also shook Harry's hand. Bill came as something of a surprise. Harry knew that he worked for the wizarding bank, Gringotts, and that Bill had been Head Boy at Hogwarts; Harry had always imagined Bill to be an older version of Percy: fussy about rule-breaking and fond of bossing everyone around. However, Bill was - there was no other word for it - cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill's clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that Harry recognized his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide. Before any of them could say anything else, there was a faint popping noise, and Mr. Weasley appeared out of thin air at George's shoulder. He was looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "That wasn't funny Fred!" he shouted. "What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?" "I didn't give him anything," said Fred, with another evil grin. I just dropped it....It was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to." "You dropped it on purpose!" roared Mr. Weasley. "You knew he'd eat it, you knew he was on a diet -" "How big did his tongue get?" George asked eagerly. "It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!" Harry and the Weasleys roared with laughter again. "It isn't funny!" Mr. Weasley shouted. "That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard-Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons "We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!" said Fred indignantly. "No, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," said George. "Isn't he, Harry?" "Yeah, he is, Mr. Weasley," said Harry earnestly. "That's not the point!" raged Mr. Weasley. "You wait until I tell your mother -" "Tell me what?" said a voice behind them. Mrs. Weasley had just entered the kitchen. She was a short, plump woman with a very kind face, though her eyes were presently narrowed with suspicion. "Oh hello, Harry, dear," she said, spotting him and smiling. Then her eyes snapped back to her husband. "Tell me what, Arthur?" Mr. Weasley hesitated. Harry could tell that, however angry he was with Fred and George, he hadn't really intended to tell Mrs. Weasley what had happened. There was a silence, while Mr. Weasley eyed his wife nervously. Then two girls appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Mrs. Weasley. One, with very bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth, was Harry's and Ron's friend, Hermione Granger. The other, who was small and red-haired, was Ron's younger sister, Ginny. Both of them smiled at Harry, who grinned back, which made Ginny go scarlet - she had been very taken with Harry ever since his first visit to the Burrow. "Tell me what, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley repeated, in a dangerous sort of voice. "It's nothing, Molly," mumbled Mr. Weasley, "Fred and George just - but I've had words with them -" "What have they done this time?" said Mrs. Weasley. "If it's got anything to do with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes -" "Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?" said Hermione from the doorway. "He knows where he's sleeping," said Ron, "in my room, he slept there last -" "We can all go," said Hermione pointedly. "Oh," said Ron, cottoning on. "Right." "Yeah, we'll come too," said George. "You stay where you are!" snarled Mrs. Weasley. Harry and Ron edged out of the kitchen, and they, Hermione, and Ginny set off along the narrow hallway and up the rickety staircase that zigzagged through the house to the upper stories. "What are Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" Harry asked as they climbed. Ron and Ginny both laughed, although Hermione didn't. "Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George's room," said Ron quietly. "Great long price lists for stuff they've invented. Joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they'd been inventing all that..." "We've been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually making things," said Ginny. "We thought they just liked the noise." "Only, most of the stuff - well, all of it, really - was a bit dangerous," said Ron, "and, you know, they were planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mum went mad at them. Told them they weren't allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms....She's furious at them anyway. They didn't get as many O.W.L.s as she expected." O.W.L.s were Ordinary Wizarding Levels, the examinations Hogwarts students took at the age of fifteen. "And then there was this big row," Ginny said, "because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke shop." Just then a door on the second landing opened, and a face poked out wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a very annoyed expression. "Hi, Percy," said Harry. "Oh hello, Harry," said Percy. "I was wondering who was making all the noise. I'm trying to work in here, you know I've got a report to finish for the office - and it's rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs." "We're not thundering, "said Ron irritably. "We're walking. Sorry if we've disturbed the top-secret workings of the Ministry of Magic." "What are you working on?" said Harry. "A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation," said Percy smugly. "We're trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin - leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year -" "That'll change the world, that report will," said Ron. "Front page of the Daily Prophet, I expect, cauldron leaks." Percy went slightly pink. "You might sneer, Ron," he said heatedly, "but unless some sort of international law is imposed we might well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow-bottomed products that seriously endanger -" "Yeah, yeah, all right," said Ron, and he started off upstairs again. Percy slammed his bedroom door shut. As Harry, Hermione, and Ginny followed Ron up three more flights of stairs, shouts from the kitchen below echoed up to them. It sounded as though Mr. Weasley had told Mrs. Weasley about the toffees. The room at the top of the house where Ron slept looked much as it had the last time that Harry had come to stay: the same posters of Ron's favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, were whirling and waving on the walls and sloping ceiling, and the fish tank on the windowsill, which had previously held frog spawn, now contained one extremely large frog. Ron's old rat, Scabbers, was here no more, but instead there was the tiny gray owl that had delivered Ron's letter to Harry in Privet Drive. It was hopping up and down in a small cage and twittering madly. "Shut up, Pig," said Ron, edging his way between two of the four beds that had been squeezed into the room. "Fred and George are in here with us, because Bill and Charlie are in their room," he told Harry. "Percy gets to keep his room all to himself because he's got to work." "Er - why are you calling that owl Pig?" Harry asked Ron. "Because he's being stupid," said Ginny, "Its proper name is Pigwidgeon." "Yeah, and that's not a stupid name at all," said Ron sarcastically. "Ginny named him," he explained to Harry. "She reckons it's sweet. And I tried to change it, but it was too late, he won't answer to anything else. So now he's Pig. I've got to keep him up here because he annoys Errol and Hermes. He annoys me too, come to that. Pigwidgeon zoomed happily around his cage, hooting shrilly. Harry knew Ron too well to take him seriously. He had moaned continually about his old rat, Scabbers, but had been most upset when Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, appeared to have eaten him. "Where's Crookshanks?" Harry asked Hermione now. "Out in the garden, I expect," she said. "He likes chasing gnomes. He's never seen any before." "Percy's enjoying work, then?" said Harry, sitting down on one of the beds and watching the Chudley Cannons zooming in and out of the posters on the ceiling. "Enjoying it?" said Ron darkly. "I don't reckon he'd come home if Dad didn't make him. He's obsessed. Just don't get him onto the subject of his boss. According to Mr. Crouch...as I was saying to Mr. Crouch... Mr. Crouch is of the opinion...Mr. Crouch was telling me...They'll be announcing their engagement any day now." "Have you had a good summer, Harry?" said Hermione. "Did you get our food parcels and everything?" "Yeah, thanks a lot," said Harry. "They saved my life, those cakes." "And have you heard from -?" Ron began, but at a look from Hermione he fell silent. Harry knew Ron had been about to ask about Sirius. Ron and Hermione had been so deeply involved in helping Sirius escape from the Ministry of Magic that they were almost as concerned about Harry's godfather as he was. However, discussing him in front of Ginny was a bad idea. Nobody but themselves and Professor Dumbledore knew about how Sirius had escaped, or believed in his innocence. "I think they've stopped arguing," said Hermione, to cover the awkward moment, because Ginny was looking curiously from Ron to Harry. "Shall we go down and help your mum with dinner?" "Yeah, all right," said Ron. The four of them left Ron's room and went back downstairs to find Mrs. Weasley alone in the kitchen, looking extremely bad-tempered. "We're eating out in the garden," she said when they came in. "There's just not room for eleven people in here. Could you take the plates outside, girls? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Knives and forks, please, you two," she said to Ron and Harry, pointing her wand a little more vigorously than she had intended at a pile of potatoes in the sink, which shot out of their skins so fast that they ricocheted off the walls and ceiling. "Oh for heaven's sake," she snapped, now directing her wand at a dustpan, which hopped off the sideboard and started skating across the floor, scooping up the potatoes. "Those two!" she burst out savagely, now pulling pots and pans out of a cupboard, and Harry knew she meant Fred and George. I don't know what's going to happen to them, I really don't. No ambition, unless you count making as much trouble as they possibly can...." Mrs. Weasley slammed a large copper saucepan down on the kitchen table and began to wave her wand around inside it. A creamy sauce poured from the wand tip as she stirred. "It's not as though they haven't got brains, she continued irritably, taking the saucepan over to the stove and lighting it with a further poke of her wand, "but they're wasting them, and unless they pull themselves together soon, they'll be in real trouble. I've had more owls from Hogwarts about them than the rest put together. If they carry on the way they're going, they'll end up in front of the Improper Use of Magic Office." Mrs. Weasley jabbed her wand at the cutlery drawer, which shot open. Harry and Ron both jumped out of the way as several knives soared out of it, flew across the kitchen, and began chopping the potatoes, which had just been tipped back into the sink by the dustpan. "I don't know where we went wrong with them," said Mrs. Weasley, putting down her wand and starting to pull out still more saucepans. "It's been the same for years, one thing after another, and they won't listen to - OH NOT AGAIN!" She had picked up her wand from the table, and it had emitted a loud squeak and turned into a giant rubber mouse. "One of their fake wands again!" she shouted. "How many times have I told them not to leave them lying around?" She grabbed her real wand and turned around to find that the sauce on the stove was smoking. "C'mon," Ron said hurriedly to Harry, seizing a handful of cutlery from the open drawer, "let's go and help Bill and Charlie." They left Mrs. Weasley and headed out the back door into the yard. They had only gone a few paces when Hermione's bandy-legged ginger cat, Crookshanks, came pelting out of the garden, bottle-brush tail held high in the air, chasing what looked like a muddy potato on legs. Harry recognized it instantly as a gnome. Barely ten inches high, its horny little feet pattered very fast as it sprinted across the yard and dived headlong into one of the Wellington boots that lay scattered around the door. Harry could hear the gnome giggling madly as Crookshanks inserted a paw into the boot, trying to reach it. Meanwhile, a very loud crashing noise was coming from the other side of the house. The source of the commotion was revealed as they entered the garden, and saw that Bill and Charlie both had their wands out, and were making two battered old tables fly high above the lawn, smashing into each other, each attempting to knock the other's out of the air. Fred and George were cheering, Ginny was laughing, and Hermione was hovering near the hedge, apparently torn between amusement and anxiety. Bill's table caught Charlie's with a huge bang and knocked one of its legs off. There was a clatter from overhead, and they all looked up to see Percy's head poking out of a window on the second floor. "Will you keep it down?!" he bellowed. "Sorry, Perce," said Bill, grinning. "How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?" "Very badly," said Percy peevishly, and he slammed the window shut. Chuckling, Bill and Charlie directed the tables safely onto the grass, end to end, and then, with a flick of his wand, Bill reattached the table leg and conjured tablecloths from nowhere. By seven o'clock, the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were settling themselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky. To somebody who had been living on meals of increasingly stale cake all summer, this was paradise, and at first, Harry listened rather than talked as he helped himself to chicken and ham pie, boiled potatoes, and salad. At the far end of the table, Percy was telling his father all about his report on cauldron bottoms. "I've told Mr. Crouch that I'll have it ready by Tuesday," Percy was saying pompously. "That's a bit sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of things. I think he'll be grateful I've done it in good time, I mean, its extremely busy in our department just now, what with all the arrangements for the World Cup. We're just not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ludo Bagman -" "I like Ludo," said Mr. Weasley mildly. "He was the one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favor: His brother, Otto, got into a spot of trouble - a lawnmower with unnatural powers - I smoothed the whole thing over." "Oh Bagman's likable enough, of course," said Percy dismissively, "but how he ever got to be Head of Department...when I compare him to Mr. Crouch! I can't see Mr. Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what's happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?" "Yes, I was asking Ludo about that," said Mr. Weasley, frowning. "He says Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now - though must say, if it was someone in my department, I'd be worried...." "Oh Bertha's hopeless, all right," said Percy. "I hear she's been shunted from department to department for years, much more trouble than she's worth...but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch has been taking a personal interest, she worked in our department at one time, you know, and I think Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her - but Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However" - Percy heaved an impressive sigh and took a deep swig of elderflower wine - "we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we've got another big event to organize right after the World Cup." Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down toward the end of the table where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting. "You know the one I'm talking about, Father." He raised his voice slightly. "The top-secret one." Ron rolled his eyes and muttered to Harry and Hermione, "He's been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons." In the middle of the table, Mrs. Weasley was arguing with Bill about his earring, which seemed to be a recent acquisition. "...with a horrible great fang on it. Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?" "Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure," said Bill patiently. "And your hair's getting silly, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, fingering her wand lovingly." I wish you'd let me give it a trim...." "I like it," said Ginny, who was sitting beside Bill. "You're so old-fashioned, Mum. Anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's...." Next to Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Charlie were all talking spiritedly about the World Cup. "It's got to be Ireland," said Charlie thickly, through a mouthful of potato. "They flattened Peru in the semifinals." "Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," said Fred. "Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven," said Charlie shortly. "I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was." "What happened?" said Harry eagerly, regretting more than ever his isolation from the wizarding world when he was stuck on Privet Drive. "Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten," said Charlie gloomily. "Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg." Harry had been on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team ever since his first year at Hogwarts and owned one of the best racing brooms in the world, a Firebolt. Flying came more naturally to Harry than anything else in the magical world, and he played in the position of Seeker on the Gryffindor House team. Mr. Weasley conjured up candles to light the darkening garden before they had their homemade strawberry ice cream, and by the time they had finished, moths were fluttering low over the table, and the warm air was perfumed with the smells of grass and honeysuckle. Harry was feeling extremely well fed and at peace with the world as he watched several gnomes sprinting through the rosebushes, laughing madly and closely pursued by Crookshanks. Ron looked carefully up the table to check that the rest of the family were all busy talking, then he said very quietly to Harry, "So - have you heard from Sirius lately?" Hermione looked around, listening closely. "Yeah," said Harry softly, "twice. He sounds okay. I wrote to him yesterday. He might write back while I'm here." He suddenly remembered the reason he had written to Sirius, and for a moment was on the verge of telling Ron and Hermione about his scar hurting again, and about the dream that had awoken him...but he really didn't want to worry them just now, not when he himself was feeling so happy and peaceful. "Look at the time," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, checking her wristwatch. "You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you you'll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your school list out, I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time." "Wow - hope it does this time!" said Harry enthusiastically. "Well, I certainly don't," said Percy sanctimoniously. "I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days." "Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" said Fred. "That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" said Percy, going very red in the face. "It was nothing personal!" "It was," Fred whispered to Harry as they got up from the table. "We sent it."

#GobletofFire #HarryPotter

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