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jrob64 · 1 month

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Long Overdue Conversations - Part 4 (Emma & Killian) A OUAT missing scene

Here is another conversation I feel should have taken place in Once Upon a Time. This one occurs immediately after the 'You traded your ship for me' scene at the end of season 3.

THIS PART IS RATED M!

Previous installments can be found on Tumblr: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

All parts can also be found on Ao3 & FFN

Special thanks to @hookedmom who always makes my stories better with her beta skills and suggestions for making this scene better (and hotter!)

*********

“You traded your ship for me?” Emma asked, amazement evident in her voice.

Killian gave a slight nod. “Aye.”

Then she was kissing him. Not a bruising and frantic kiss like the one in Neverland, but a tender, passionate one that took his breath away all the same. At one point, he had to draw back to look at her, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. When she smiled at him and rested her forehead against his, he caressed her cheek, running her silky hair through his fingers, before capturing her willing lips once again.

Their moment was interrupted when Leroy and one of his brothers came bursting through the door of Granny’s, drunkenly singing. It was all Killian could do to keep himself from throttling the dwarfs, but Emma simply squeezed his hand and gave him a soft smile.

“If you don’t have your ship anymore, where are you staying?” she asked.

“The widow Lucas granted me a room at her bed and breakfast.”

“Hmm…” Emma hummed in thought.

Killian tilted his head, waiting for her to continue. After a moment of silence, he asked, “What’s on your mind, Swan?”

Leaning in, she brushed her lips across his cheek. “Give me a minute to say goodbye to my family. I’ll be right back.”

He watched her rise from her seat and ascend the steps into the diner. Before disappearing inside, she turned and smiled at him reassuringly.

While he waited, he touched his fingers to his lips, just as he had after their first kiss. He loved the feeling of Emma Swan’s lips on his and wanted it to linger. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wait nearly as long to feel them again.

Sooner than he expected, Emma was back out the door. When she reached him, she took him by the hand, encouraging him to get to his feet. “Come on, pirate.”

“Where are we going, Love?”

She gave him a secretive smile. “To your room.”

In a near state of shock, he followed behind her as she led the way, still gripping his hand tightly. When they entered the lobby, Emma asked, “What’s your room number?”

“Um…four,” he stammered.

“Seriously? That’s the room I had when I first came to town.”

“Aye, the widow Lucas did mention that fact when she gave me the key.”

He trailed closely behind her up the stairs, his hand on the small of her back. He was hesitant to break physical contact with her, for fear she would suddenly disappear. It was Storybrooke, after all.

When they reached his door, he fumbled for the key. Finally withdrawing it from the inside pocket of his leather duster, it slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor.

Emma bent down and picked it up, smirking as she held it between her fingers. “Nervous, Captain?” she asked, before inserting it into the lock and turning it. The door swung open and they quickly crossed the threshold.

“I’m still trying to determine if this is indeed real, or simply my imagination,” he said. He closed the door and leaned back against it, gripping his belt buckle as he looked up at her through his dark lashes.

“Have you imagined this?” she asked, batting her own lashes at him.

He poked his tongue into his cheek, then ran it over his bottom teeth before answering. “Perhaps.”

Stepping closer, she leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Move away from the door.”

Quirking a curious brow at her, he did as instructed. She held her hands up with her palms flat and facing the door. Closing her eyes, she concentrated until a soft glow emanated from them. Then she moved them slowly to trace around the entire frame of the door.

When she finished, she dropped her hands and turned to face him. Seeing the slight confusion on his face, she explained, “Silencing spell. Granny has supernatural hearing, remember?”

“You’re bloody brilliant, Swan.” He closed the distance between them, reaching up to sift her blonde locks through his fingers, his deep blue eyes boring into hers. “Now that we’re alone…”

Emma shrugged out of her leather jacket and let it drop to the floor, then ran her hands up the front of his vest and under the shoulders of his heavy, leather coat. Understanding her intention, he pulled his arms free when she pushed it off of him.

“Just how much does that thing weigh?” she asked. “And how the hell do you wear it around all the time?”

He grinned at her. “Is that really what you want to think about right now, Love?”

“You have a point. Besides,” she said mischievously, “I’m sure you’ve carried rum barrels heavier than that, right?”

His brows furrowed. “Come again?”

“Just something your former self said when he was carrying me onto his…your…ship.”

“Bloody wanker,” he grumbled. “I should have hit him harder.”

She began undoing the fasteners on his vest. “Is that really what you want to think about right now?” she asked, echoing his words.

“Too right, Love.”

Once the vest joined his coat on the floor, he removed his hook and placed it on the dresser. Then Emma slid his suspenders off his shoulders and started working on the tiny buttons of his billowy, black shirt. “How do you manage these things with one hand? I can’t unbutton them with two.”

“I don’t mess with the buttons. I simply slide it on over my head.”

“That explains why it’s always open practically to your waist.”

“You’ve noticed that, have you?” he asked with a knowing smirk.

“Kinda hard to miss it, with your whole chest on display.” Lifting her eyes to meet his, she abandoned the buttons and slowly ran her fingers through the hair on his chest that had been teasing her ever since she met him in the Enchanted Forest. Hearing him gasp at the contact, she added, “I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time.”

As her fingertips continued to explore, he dipped his head to capture her lips, his own calloused fingers finding their way under the hem of her turtleneck. He caressed the soft skin he found there, and she moaned into the kiss, “Killian…”

The breathy sound of his name from her sweet lips had him growing hard in an instant. “Swan,” he mumbled, “are you…are you quite sure about this, Love?”

She pulled back to look at him, her pupils dilated with desire. “I told my parents I wouldn’t be home tonight, brought you up to your room, and used magic to make sure no one would hear us. Does that sound like someone who isn’t sure?”

“You told your parents you were going to be with me tonight?”

“Yes. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about them anymore.”

“Agreed,” he chuckled. “Where were we?”

“Right about here,” she said, crossing her arms to grab the bottom of her sweater, then pulling it over her head.

Killian could feel his heartbeat increase as his eyes roamed over her newly bared skin. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t longed for this scenario, but never could he have imagined the absolute perfection of Emma Swan.

“Your turn,” she said, grasping the hem of his shirt to tug it over his head. He tried to stand still as her hands explored the expanse of his chest, moved over his shoulders and down his arms.

He was so busy enjoying her touch and taking in her beautiful form, he had forgotten about his battered, leather brace. When her fingers found it, he involuntarily took a step backwards, pulling his arm away from her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said soothingly. “It doesn’t bother me.”

His hand rubbed absentmindedly over the brace. “It…it’s ugly, Swan. It’s been a very long time since I’ve allowed anyone to see it.”

“You don’t have to hide it from me, Killian. It’s part of you and I…well, nothing about you could make me…care for you any less.”

Slowly, he stepped back into her space, his eyes never leaving hers. With practiced fingers, he deftly undid the buckles. After hesitating a few moments, he grasped the brace and twisted it off of his arm. Emma took it from him and laid it on the dresser beside his hook, as he removed the protective cloth covering his stump.

She locked eyes with him again, before dropping her gaze to his arm. Placing one hand under his elbow, she lifted it up while the fingers of her other hand gently traced the raised, jagged scars. “It must have been so painful,” she said quietly.

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching at the memory. “I…I don’t remember feeling pain when he…when he cut it off. I’d just witnessed him murder Milah and that pain overshadowed everything else. It wasn’t until later, when a crew member cauterized it, that I finally realized how much it hurt. By that time, my grief and anger had taken over and all I wanted to focus on was plotting my revenge.”

Emma bent to press a kiss to the end of his wrist. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Killian.”

“It’s long in the past, Love. I would much rather look toward the future.” Using his finger to lift her chin, he gave her a smile. Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “A future that includes you, I hope.”

In answer, she fused her lips to his, her hands beginning to roam freely over his body. When she slid her hands down inside the back of his trousers and squeezed his ass, he sucked in a ragged breath. “Bloody hell, Swan,” he growled.

“What’s the matter, Captain? Can’t you handle it?”

Before she could utter another word, he skillfully flicked open the button on her jeans and unzipped them. “Let’s see who can’t handle it, shall we?” Then his hand was inside her panties, cupping her mound.

Her surprised gasp turned to a moan of pleasure as his long fingers slid through her slick folds. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet?” he asked, his voice low and husky in her ear.

“I…I’ve wanted this ever since…” She stopped talking and bit her lip.

“Since when, Swan?” he queried.

“Since…Neverland,” she admitted.

Hearing her finally confess her feelings made his own surge through him in a hot rush. He withdrew his hand and lifted her off the floor. Carrying her across the room, he deposited her on the bed. “Take off your boots,” he commanded, beginning to toe off his own.

She happily complied, then began pushing her jeans down her legs. When they reached her knees, she looked up and felt like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

Killian was standing in front of her, arms crossed over his chest, dressed in nothing but his leather pants. They were straining against the huge bulge that was right at her eye level. Without conscious thought, her hands reached for him, rubbing his rigid member through the leather.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, exhaling the words, “I’ve wanted this for a very long time, too, Emma.”

“Then let’s not wait any longer.”

Her fingers set to work unfastening his pants to free his cock, which she promptly began to stroke. At the same time, he reached behind her and worked at the hooks of her bra. When they were undone, his hand and wrist tugged on the straps and her hands left his shaft long enough to wiggle out of it.

While she resumed her exploration of his sizable cock, he fondled her breasts - squeezing, pinching, rubbing and caressing them, murmuring words of praise for their perfection.

Killian suddenly realized how quickly they were working each other up, and put his hand over Emma’s to stop her stroking. “Can we…can we slow down just a bit, Love? I don’t want this to be over too soon.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said breathlessly. “Why don’t we finish getting undressed?”

“Aye,” he agreed.

Both of them removed their remaining clothes and as Emma laid down in the middle of the bed, she pulled Killian down beside her. He pushed himself up to lean on his left elbow, his fingers dancing along the skin of her belly. “Gods, Love. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman than you. You’re absolutely stunning.”

Her hand moved up his forearm and bicep, tracing the hard muscles. “So are you, Killian.”

They explored each other’s body with their hands and mouths, whispered words spoken against skin, between kisses, licks and nips. When Killian’s fingers found their way once again to Emma’s most intimate place, she bucked into his hand, clearly craving more.

He nudged her legs further apart with his knee, then slowly slid one finger into her warm, wet channel. “Tell me how that feels, Love,” he implored.

“Feels…amazing,” she complied, her eyes closing of their own accord and her breath coming out in short gasps.

After gliding in and out of her a few times, he pulled his eyes away from the sight to look up at her. “Are you ready for more?”

She nodded her head, biting her lip in anticipation.

On the next pass, he added a second digit. “So bloody perfect, taking me like that, Swan.”

“Killian, I’m going to…you’re going to make me…” she muttered, trying to speak a coherent sentence.

“Don’t hold back. Just let it happen and enjoy it, Love.”

She took his advice and soon she was clenching tightly around his fingers, the evidence of her orgasm further slickening his fingers. As she throbbed around them, he sought friction by rubbing his hard erection against her thigh, then sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Killiannn…” she moaned throatily.

He withdrew his fingers and chuckled lowly against her breast over her huff of annoyance. “Patience, Love. I have something much more…fulfilling…for that greedy quim.”

Instantly, she shifted onto her side and reached down to grasp his cock. “I’m ready when you are,” she breathed hotly into his ear.

With a growl, he flipped her onto her back, causing her to let out a little yelp of surprise. Then he swung himself over her body, hovering over her. Nuzzling into her neck, he murmured, “I don’t know if you noticed, but I was quite taken with that dress we pilfered during our adventure.”

“You mean the one…that made me look like…a bar wench?” she gasped, enjoying what his mouth was doing to her collarbone.

“Mmm, aye,” he hummed. “It certainly made you quite…distracting. And very enticing. I wanted to bury my face right here.” He licked up between her breasts, chuckling again when she uttered a curse.

Emma’s hands slid between them and wrapped around his girth. Widening her legs, she dragged the tip through her soaked folds. At his groan, she whispered, “You did promise to fulfill me, so fill me, Captain.”

He lifted his head to look into her face, giving her a grin. “As you wish.”

Her hand guided him to where she was aching for him and he slowly pushed into her, inch by glorious inch. Her legs wrapped around his hips, hands moving to scratch along his back, which added to the pleasure he was already experiencing from being buried inside the woman for whom he’d been yearning for months. He dropped his head to her chest, giving her a moment to adjust to him, while getting himself under control so he wouldn’t be on the verge too soon.

When he finally began to move, it was at a slow, steady pace. Experimenting with different angles, he took note of what brought the most response from her.

After several blissful minutes, she murmured, “Killian…”

“Yes, Love?”

“Make me see stars,” she requested breathlessly, reaching behind him to squeeze his buttocks almost painfully.

He kissed her and grinned slyly, determined to meet her challenge. Dropping to his elbows on either side of her, he began thrusting faster and deeper, until he was plunging into her with abandon, eliciting a loud exclamation from her each time he filled her.

He was getting close to his peak, but didn’t want to reach it before she did, so he caught her nipple in his mouth again, alternating flicking it with his tongue and sucking hard. His actions had the desired effect and soon she was screaming through her release, her head thrashing on the pillow, while her throbbing cunt rippled along his engorged cock.

“Bloody…fucking…hell,” he grunted, thrusting eratically, until he exploded, filling her with streams of his hot release. Not wanting to crush her, he rolled them over, sprawling her sweat-slicked body over his own.

Neither knew how long they laid there, trying to get their breathing and heart rates under control. He heard her mumble something into his chest, but couldn’t make out the words. Raising his leaden arm, he brushed her hair away from her face. “What did you say, Love?”

She lifted her face to peer into his. “You did it.”

“Did what?” he asked, thoroughly puzzled.

“Made me see stars…and several planets.”

He laughed, then pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “I’m glad to hear it, because you definitely did the same for me.”

“Good thing I soundproofed the room, huh?”

“Aye, Love. I don’t think I would be able to meet Granny’s eyes tomorrow morning if you hadn’t.”

It was her turn to laugh. As they lay in silence, she skimmed her fingers through the hair on his chest, enjoying the sighs of pleasure from him.

After several peaceful minutes, Emma said, “Killian?”

“Hmm?”

“I would have chosen you.”

He opened his eyes to see her looking at him earnestly. “Chosen me for what?”

“Remember back in Neverland when you told me I would have to choose between you and Neal?”

“Aye.”

“Even if Neal hadn’t…died, I still would have chosen you.”

He lifted his head from the pillow to peer at her more closely. “Truly?”

“Yeah. Well, to be honest, it wasn’t ever a contest between the two of you.” She watched him studying her closely, before adding, “Is that difficult for you to believe?”

“I saw how much his death impacted you and thought perhaps, given the chance, the two of you might have rekindled your relationship.”

“We actually had a really nice conversation just before I realized he was sharing a body with his father, and I felt like we were in a good place with each other at the end. Neal will always be my first love and Henry’s father, so he has a special spot in my heart; but…after what he did to me, I would have never been able to completely trust him. You, on the other hand, have never given me any reason not to trust you. You’ve proven time and time again that you’re in my corner, that you believe in me…”

“Of course I do, Emma. You’re the most determined and assiduous woman I’ve ever met. I trust you with my life…and my heart.”

She tilted her head and smiled softly. “I trust you with mine, too. I think you know me well enough to know I didn’t come to that decision lightly.”

He reached up to twist a lock of her hair around his finger. “Aye, that I do. I feel incredibly honored to hold your trust, Love, especially when not so very long ago, you chained me at the top of a beanstalk because you didn’t trust me.”

“That’s not why I chained you there.”

“No?” he questioned.

She shook her head. “If you recall, I told you I couldn’t take the chance of being wrong about you. Even then, I sensed I could trust you, and that scared the shit out of me.”

“That’s because you thought I was nothing but a pirate, as did the rest of your family. Your father used those exact words in Neverland.”

“Yeah, well, you proved us all wrong.” She cupped his face in the palm of her hand. “You’re a good man, Killian Jones.”

He smiled. “During our adventure back in the Enchanted Forest, when Dave didn’t know who I was, he told me your parents would be crazy not to approve of me as your suitor. I told him I hoped he would remember that.”

“He’s coming around. Give him time and you’ll probably end up being his best friend.”

He wrapped his arms around her more tightly, taking advantage of having her naked form pressed against him. She laid her head on his chest, humming happily.

Later, when they were cleaned up and she was asleep in his arms, wearing nothing but one of his thin black shirts, their conversation ran through his mind again. When Neal died, he saw how grief-stricken Emma was, and assumed she would have chosen the other man, had he lived. He was Henry’s father, after all, and Killian thought that connection between Emma and Neal would be enough for her to try to make their relationship work.

Hearing her say she would have chosen Killian made him happier than he had been for centuries. He fell asleep with his nose buried in her hair and a smile on his face. Tomorrow, they would probably face some sort of crisis, but tonight, Emma Swan was his and hopefully would remain his for the long haul.

*********

I hope you agree that this is a scene we all needed!

TAG LIST:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4 @hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @zaharadessert @lyssapup27 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90 @apiratewhopines

#long overdue conversations #part 4 #emma & killian #jrob64 #art by jrob 64 #cs missing scene #captain swan fanfic #cs smut #set at the end of season 3

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ssuperficialspacecadett · 1 year

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Friday Fight Night

Chapter Four of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Five

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3.4K

Chapter Overview: You help Benny and the guys get ready for FFN.

Notes: this chapter is just a bit shorter than what i usually like to post, but i didn't have a lot of time to write this week & i'm actually content with where i ended it ! sometimes u just have to stop a little short so u don't just start typing random shit to meet a bullshit word count u give urself u know? i updated the tag list so if i missed u PLZ LET ME KNOW & i will add u asap !! well as usual...my asks are always open & happy reading <3

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Why is this so difficult? It's just like every other day at work, except for the fact that it's not. You have been standing in front of your closet for a good 10 minutes now just looking at your clothes. Suddenly nothing seems good enough to wear. Maybe something would be good enough if you knew how to dress for a fight. Should you wear workout gear? No, you weren’t the one fighting. Should you wear a tank top and a tennis skirt? Probably not if it gets as rowdy as Benny says it will.

“Just pick a fucking outfit, you idiot.” You chastise.

After yet another once over of your closet you pick out a worn, white t-shirt with an image of Speed Racer on it. It had definitely seen its glory days years ago when you were still in college. If it worked then, it should work now. You take it off its hanger, along with some jeans, and put it all on. You’re tying your shoes when your phone chimes next to you.

???: Hey, we will be getting to the gym around closing time. Are you staying to help Benny set up?

???: Oh, this is Frankie BTW

Seeing his name on your screen makes your chest tighten with excitement. You obviously gave him your number so he could text you, but now it feels so real. Something about Frankie texting ‘BTW’ makes you giggle to yourself as you sit on the floor.

You: Yes, I figured I would make myself useful. No point in going home since the fights start at 10:00 P.M. and I might lose my parking spot.

You have to set your phone down before you overthink the most basic text you have ever sent in your life. Just for good measure, you leave it on your bed while you go into the bathroom. Despite your best efforts to remain nonchalant about the whole situation, you find yourself putting on a little more makeup than usual. By the time you have wrapped up and returned to your room an unread text is waiting for you.

Frankie: Good thinking. See you tonight then.

The rest of your morning has a bit more pep in it than before.

***

Your day at the gym passes by as usual. The only two exceptions were a truck load of last minute Friday Fight Night tickets sales and then compliments on how the gym was smelling. You made a mental note to smack Benny upside the head for throwing such a temper tantrum about it. In between customers you found yourself checking your phone more than you regularly do. You told yourself that it was just because you were excited about the fights and were counting down the minutes and not because you were hoping to receive another text from Frankie. Unfortunately, lying to yourself never really works out.

In an effort to keep yourself occupied, you answer emails from people that are applying for a gym membership, make laps around the gym to see if you need to replace any of the wipes used to clean the machines, and collect all of the dirty towels for a load of laundry. Much to your dismay, these tasks don’t take very long to complete. By 3:30 P.M. you reluctantly slink back to the front desk where the single most unwanted guest is waiting.

“There she is! My favorite receptionist! I’m still interested in knowing your name, darlin’.”

“Good afternoon, Brunson.” You plop yourself down in your chair and pull up the schedule on the computer. “Just working out today? I don’t see that you’re with Benny.”

“You caught me. I want to make sure that I’m in good shape when I fight in a few weeks time.”

For a few blissful seconds you allow yourself to indulge in the idea of Brunson getting clocked, hard, right in the jaw.

“Well, enjoy yourself.” You scan his card quickly in an attempt to move him on his way.

“I always do so when you’re here.” He clicks his tongue at you while he walks past your desk.

“God, he’s insufferable.” You mumble to yourself.

It’s 4:00 P.M. when Benny finally ventures up to the front lobby with you.

“Where have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you all day, man.”

“Because you haven’t,” He covers his face with his hands and whines into them before coming back up for air. “At first I couldn’t find where the white board I used to write out the fightin’ pairs was. Then there was somethin’ wrong with the beer delivery and they kept me out back for fuckin’ ever. That isn’t even coverin’ all the one on one sessions I've had today or the ones I’m still goin’ to have.”

It’s breaking your heart to see how stressed out he’s getting with all of the things he has to juggle today. You get out of your chair, walk over to him, and rub on his shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s going to be alright, Benny. I’m staying after work to help you set up and Frankie told me that the guys are coming to help around closing too. You won't be in this alone for much longer.”

He places both of his hands on his hips and exhales deeply.

“Thank you,” You can see the earnestness in his eyes. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. That’s what friends are for, right?”

He smiles down at you from his 6’2 frame and before you can move he pulls you in for a deadly tight hug.

“Benny!” You can’t stop laughing. “Let me go this fucking instant!”

“Friends like hugs from other friends, right?” He yells over your incessant protesting.

“I’m going to kill you, you know that?!” Your tone of voice doesn’t even sound remotely serious.

Eventually you get him to unlatch himself from you so the two of you can finish up the work day in order to prepare for this evening.

***

You stand back proudly and admire all of your handiwork. Benny put you in charge of setting up the beer table, so set up the beer table you did. You designed a poster to hang on the wall above the table so people would be able to clearly see their options and their respective prices. You set a long, metal tub in the center of the table and filled it halfway with ice. Then you made a little arrangement out of the beer and poured the last half of the ice on it to keep it cold. The cash box was fully stocked and set to the side. All in all, you did a pretty good job. Thankfully, one of Benny’s regulars volunteered to work it this evening.

“All done over here!” You call over to Benny. “How’s the sign coming?”

You watch in horror as he stands up to reveal a barely legible fighting roster. He must have seen your face flounder when you looked at it because he just tosses the dry erase marker over to you and crosses his arms.

“Oh, Benny I-”

“I know it looks bad. I’ve never had a knack for all this creative shit.”

You squeeze his hand as you pass him while heading to the white board. He slides over the roster that has been printed on paper for you to use as your guide. You’re so engrossed with your new task that you don’t notice when the guys come in around 8:30 P.M..

“You sure are givin’ Benny a run for his money this evenin’. The place hasn’t looked this put together in…well ever.” That sugary, sweet southern drawl could only belong to one man.

“Thank you, Will!” You toss over your shoulder.

“Aw screw you, dude. Maybe it would have been if y’all had gotten here when y’all said you would.” Benny notes.

“Blame Fish.” Pope snickers. “He couldn’t find the perfect outfit.”

That got your interest peaked. You turn around to look at what Frankie is wearing. Regular work boots, soft looking denim jeans, a black undershirt, a worn blue button up with the top few buttons left undone, and finally his cap- oh god he’s looking at you. If you had been a smarter woman, you would have noticed that two thirds of the group standing behind you were looking at your sign. That damned one third of the group was watching you trail your way up his whole body. He’s like an oak; completely unwavering as you take him in.

“Well, I like it. ” You squeak out as you turn your attention back to the roster. “Now why don’t you guys go make yourselves useful and help Benny?”

You hear a unified ‘yes ma’am’ come from behind you followed by the scattering of three pairs of feet. There truly isn't anything more sexy than men who can follow orders.

All five of y’all work tirelessly for the next hour to get everything finished before the doors open to the public. When you cross off the last item on your to-do list, you decide that you have earned a drink. You sneak over to the beer table and open one of the coolers that you set up behind it that contains the excess bottles. Much to your dismay, the bottle caps don't twist off like you originally thought. You’re on your knees looking around in the extra bags and praying that Benny had the foresight to get a bottle opener when Frankie walks up next to you.

“Lose something?”

“Just my dignity trying to locate the stupid fucking bottle opener.”

He laughs jovially as he extends his hand to help you up. You take it and sheepishly hand him your bottle when he motions for it. The two of you walk around to the front of the table and you watch as he easily takes out his keys and pops the cap open with a bottle opener he had attached to them. You notice that instead of tossing the cap in the trash he places it back in his pocket along with his keys. Right when he starts to hand the drink back to you he pulls it back towards him.

“Hey! What gives?”

“I have to test it to make sure it isn’t poisonous or something.”

“Oh my god, you dick.” You lean back on the table behind you.

“You won’t be saying that when I save your life.” He takes a small sip and passes it over to you. “Nope. It’s not poison. You’re in the clear.”

Now it’s your turn. You turn to look out at the gym while you take a drink of your well deserved reward.

“Wait,” You look over at Frankie. “What if it's a slow acting poison and now we are both infected? I guess you have to stay here and finish this with me so we can go out together.”

He leisurely reclines next to you on the table and takes the bottle in his hand when you offer it to him. “That's some pretty sound logic. I can’t argue with that.”

You try to stop yourself, but you watch as he brings the frosty glass to his pouty lips. They look more pink than usual against the dark color of the bottle. His hands make the beer bottle look so much smaller than it really is. Your eyes wander to that nose you’re so fond of. God, what would it feel like on your clit as he ate his fill of you? Now that you’re closer to him you’re able to see the gray that's intricately woven into his beard and hair. Would it tickle the inside of your thighs when he buried his face in your pussy? Feelings you haven’t had for a man in a long time rock through your body the further you sink into your fantasy. Drifting even further, his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the chilled liquid. You want to decorate the sensitive skin with blossoming purple marks.

“What?” He’s looking at you now. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” You say almost breathlessly. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t hog it all.”

“I would never.” The low baritone of his voice reverberates through you.

Benny, thankfully, yells from across the gym at the both of y’all before you do something questionable.

“Hey, lazy asses! It’s showtime!”

You and Frankie both let out a breath neither of y’all realized you were holding. He looks down at his watch and then faces his friend with a mild look of annoyance.

“It’s 9:30, man. It’s just the boxers and the ring girls coming in right now.”

You notice that Frankie’s body immediately tenses up after he says this. Confused, you look over at Benny who has eyes as bright as the sun and is making a beeline towards you.

“I’m sorry.” Frankie whispers down to you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Benny? What are you-?”

“I have a proposition for you.” He says while gripping both sides of your arms. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“I don’t think I have a choice by the look of things.”

“Please be my ring girl.” He gasps.

“Oh my god.” You let your head roll back. “Benny, are you serious right now?”

“Don’t say no yet. Just think about it before you decide.”

You roll your head over to face Frankie and raise your eyebrows. You’re met with a shrug that is just as innocent as his grin.

“Does this offer have an expiration date?” You inquire shifting your focus back to the man that currently has you in a vice grip.

“Just think about it.” He pleads.

“Fine, but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna say n-”

“La-la-la! I can’t hear you! La-la-la!”

“Don’t you have fighters to go hype up in the locker room?” Frankie cuts in.

“Nothin’ I hate more than when you’re right, Fish. Catch y’all in between the matches!”

With one final ‘think about it’, he bounds off into the locker rooms. All you can do is laugh hysterically at what just transpired. Frankie probably thinks you have lost your mind with the way you are doubled over right now.

“Hey let us in on the joke, why don’t you?” Pope sits next to you on the table.

“I could use a good laugh as well.” Will adds blithely.

“What you two could use is a reality check.” you walk around the table and grab a beer for each of them. “God, I can’t believe him.”

You hand Will and Pope their drinks completely forgetting about taking the tops off. Fortunately, that didn’t stop them. Will snatches Pope’s beer out of his hand and positions the bottles where one has its cap resting just barely on the edge of the other's cap. Then he slams them down on his knee and Pope’s opens with ease. After he hands the open one off, he pops his own with a thick ring he’s wearing.

“I’m thoroughly impressed, Will. What the hell was that?”

“You just gotta learn to make due sometimes.”

Frankie and Pope both mutter ‘show-off’ under their breaths as Will explains to you the physics behind his little trick.

“Okay, now back to what Benny was talking about.” You adjust your stance so you can better face the group. “Are y’all in on this? This ‘ring girl’ shit?”

“Can’t say it wouldn’t be fun though.” Pope prods his finger at you.

“Oh, yes I can.” You say swatting at him.

“You know, Benny. Once he sets his mind to somethin’ he’s pretty determined to see it through.”

“That doesn’t even begin to answer my question, Will.” You groan as you take the beer from Frankie’s hand.

The movements between y’all are so natural, so fluid that it feels like something you have been doing for years. You see Pope, almost in shock, watch you as you take a drink.

“Can I get some of that?”

“No way, man.” You shelter the bottle against your body. “Three is a crowd and you literally have an open one in your hand.”

“Will’s right,” Frankie reasons with you. “Benny is as one track minded as they come.”

“Tell him to get on another track then.”

“How about this?” Pope counters. “You go into the locker room with Benny and see what it takes to be a ring girl. Then and only then will he accept your answer of ‘no’ if that’s still what you want.”

“If that will get him off my case then that's fine with me.”

You start to turn towards the locker room doors when a blue sleeved arm reaches over your shoulder and plucks the beer from you.

“Hey, give that back!”

“I just want to make sure you don’t hog it all.” Frankie’s tone is thick with sarcasm.

“I would never.” You grin.

Pope waits until you have cleared the locker room doors before he whacks Frankie in the shoulder. Unfortunately, Frankie doesn’t see it coming because he is too busy hoping to catch one more glimpse of you.

“If that's how you act around women you think are ‘just cool’ then I’m terrified to see how you act around women you actually like.”

“The fuck was that for? And the fuck are you talking about, man?” He massages the spot where Pope smacked him.

“Will, please tell me you aren’t as blind as he is?”

“Sorry, Fish. I see it too.”

“See what?”

“That you look like a goddamn catfish whenever you look at her! Eyes all big and mouth agape.”

“I do not.” Frankie mutters.

“Come on.” Pope folds his arms across his chest. “You think she’s cute.”

“What are we in middle school? You’re being ridiculous. Will?”

“I’ll be honest, I wanna know too.” He flashes that signature boyish Miller smile.

All Frankie can do is laugh nervously while he removes his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He knows that he’s in the middle of a losing battle and that he’ll have to concede. They are going to be ecstatic that a woman other than Rochelle has caught his eye. Especially when it's a woman that meshes so naturally with their group. No, what’s stopping him is that a part of himself wants to keep it a secret. To have something that is just his. No prying eyes, no unwanted advice, no consequences, and no one else has to get hurt but him. As soon as the acknowledgement of his affection for you falls from his lips, it's real. As selfish as it sounds, he wants to keep you at arms length. He feels like everything he touches breaks and he doesn’t want you to become the next casualty. You wouldn’t want him if you knew the truth about the things he has done. But then you smile or laugh and he can feel himself falling deeper and deeper into his delusions of grandeur.

“Well, if you don’t like her then maybe I’ll ask her out.”

“No, you won't because,” Frankie puts his cap back on. “I think she’s cute. Are y’all happy? I like her.”

“Atta boy, Fish!” Will cheers.

“I knew it!” Pope says as he pulls Frankie in for a hug. “She’s a good one, man.”

“I know she is. I just don’t know if I’m going to do anything about it right now.”

Will’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t want to fuck it up. To drag her into the shit show that is my life. I don’t even know if she feels the same way either!”

The two other men nod in understanding. Frankie takes a sip of the drink he stole from you and sighs as he looks up at the ceiling.

“All I know is…is that I like her.”

“Shh!”

“Pope, you were the one that wanted to talk about this!”

“Shut the fuck up! She's coming!”

“Y’all ready? I’m going to open the doors for everyone!”

The three of them use the time it takes you to unlock the doors and arrive back in order to regroup from their previous conversation.

“Did you,” Will clears his throat. “Did you like the view back there? See a future in being Benny’s ring girl?”

“I like the view from right here, thank you very much.”

“So,” Pope rubs his hands together. “Who ready to see some dudes get the shit beat out of them?”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @modernperplexity @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson }

#francisco morales #frankie morales #catfish #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller #will miller #ironhead #santiago garcia #pope #through the scope #read on a03

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olderthannetfic · 2 days

Note

I think Tumblr ate my Ask since I’ve seen other Asks I sent in after it were already posted.

Genuine advice question: when does a fan fiction stop being a fan fiction and become an Original Work?

I am right now writing a story that is set in the universe of an established franchise and is about the children of some of the protagonists. But they’re all OCs and the fic takes place years after canon. The bulk of the story takes place in a location that has been established in canon but the franchise hasn’t used since the early 2000s

Should I tag this story with the fandom tag or as an Original Work?

Or, should I just not post it at all? I’m a veteran of FFN 2002-4 era when people who wrote OC centered fics were bullied and harassed extensively, I don’t want to go through the same experience now

This is a duplicate, obviously, but to respond to the first part, I sometimes post things right away if tumblr fucks up when I'm trying to get to the 'add to queue' dropdown. I might also post them right away on purpose if I'm interested and want responses faster or if I'd like them to hit at a good hour on a weekend or something.

Right now, I'm waiting for three or four days before going through my inbox, so I do usually scroll back to find the first of 60 or 80 or whatever. But if I'm logging in more often, I'll usually just start with whatever ask I see first, not the earliest one sent. I'll sometimes also scroll up and down a little, looking for ones that are happier or about a different topic to break up something that's getting tedious.

It totally is possible for tumblr to just eat something, but my queue is also days long and not necessarily in order, so it's hard to tell.

And you should tag them with the fandom. Original vs. fic is about intent, not the actual degree of originality in the work.

If you're lifting some ideas from someone else's world building with the intent to make something basically original, it's Original Work. If you're setting out to write a fanfic in a canon world but populated by OCs, that's fic. Yes, even if some OC-haters whine about it.

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snickerdoodlles · 9 months

Text

pulling out a section from this post (a very basic breakdown of generative AI) for easier reading;

AO3 and Generative AI

There are unfortunately some massive misunderstandings in regards to AO3 being included in LLM training datasets. This post was semi-prompted by the ‘Knot in my name’ AO3 tag (for those of you who haven’t heard of it, it’s supposed to be a fandom anti-AI event where AO3 writers help “further pollute” AI with Omegaverse), so let’s take a moment to address AO3 in conjunction with AI. We’ll start with the biggest misconception:

1. AO3 wasn’t used to train generative AI.

Or at least not anymore than any other internet website. AO3 was not deliberately scraped to be used as LLM training data.

The AO3 moderators found traces of the Common Crawl web worm in their servers. The Common Crawl is an open data repository of raw web page data, metadata extracts and text extracts collected from 10+ years of web crawling. Its collective data is measured in petabytes. (As a note, it also only features samples of the available pages on a given domain in its datasets, because its data is freely released under fair use and this is part of how they navigate copyright.) LLM developers use it and similar web crawls like Google’s C4 to bulk up the overall amount of pre-training data.

AO3 is big to an individual user, but it’s actually a small website when it comes to the amount of data used to pre-train LLMs. It’s also just a bad candidate for training data. As a comparison example, Wikipedia is often used as high quality training data because it’s a knowledge corpus and its moderators put a lot of work into maintaining a consistent quality across its web pages. AO3 is just a repository for all fanfic -- it doesn’t have any of that quality maintenance nor any knowledge density. Just in terms of practicality, even if people could get around the copyright issues, the sheer amount of work that would go into curating and labeling AO3’s data (or even a part of it) to make it useful for the fine-tuning stages most likely outstrips any potential usage.

Speaking of copyright, AO3 is a terrible candidate for training data just based on that. Even if people (incorrectly) think fanfic doesn’t hold copyright, there are plenty of books and texts that are public domain that can be found in online libraries that make for much better training data (or rather, there is a higher consistency in quality for them that would make them more appealing than fic for people specifically targeting written story data). And for any scrapers who don’t care about legalities or copyright, they’re going to target published works instead. Meta is in fact currently getting sued for including published books from a shadow library in its training data (note, this case is not in regards to any copyrighted material that might’ve been caught in the Common Crawl data, its regarding a book repository of published books that was scraped specifically to bring in some higher quality data for the first training stage). In a similar case, there’s an anonymous group suing Microsoft, GitHub, and OpenAI for training their LLMs on open source code.

Getting back to my point, AO3 is just not desirable training data. It’s not big enough to be worth scraping for pre-training data, it’s not curated enough to be considered for high quality data, and its data comes with copyright issues to boot. If LLM creators are saying there was no active pursuit in using AO3 to train generative AI, then there was (99% likelihood) no active pursuit in using AO3 to train generative AI.

AO3 has some preventative measures against being included in future Common Crawl datasets, which may or may not work, but there’s no way to remove any previously scraped data from that data corpus. And as a note for anyone locking their AO3 fics: that might potentially help against future AO3 scrapes, but it is rather moot if you post the same fic in full to other platforms like ffn, twitter, tumblr, etc. that have zero preventative measures against data scraping.

2. A/B/O is not polluting generative AI

…I’m going to be real, I have no idea what people expected to prove by asking AI to write Omegaverse fic. At the very least, people know A/B/O fics are not exclusive to AO3, right? The genre isn’t even exclusive to fandom -- it started in fandom, sure, but it expanded to general erotica years ago. It’s all over social media. It has multiple Wikipedia pages.

More to the point though, omegaverse would only be “polluting” AI if LLMs were spewing omegaverse concepts unprompted or like…associated knots with dicks more than rope or something. But people asking AI to write omegaverse and AI then writing omegaverse for them is just AI giving people exactly what they asked for. And…I hate to point this out, but LLMs writing for a niche the LLM trainers didn’t deliberately train the LLMs on is generally considered to be a good thing to the people who develop LLMs. The capability to fill niches developers didn’t even know existed increases LLMs’ marketability. If I were a betting man, what fandom probably saw as a GOTCHA moment, AI people probably saw as a good sign of LLMs’ future potential.

3. Individuals cannot affect LLM training datasets.

So back to the fandom event, with the stated goal of sabotaging AI scrapers via omegaverse fic.

…It’s not going to do anything.

Let’s add some numbers to this to help put things into perspective:

LLaMA’s 65 billion parameter model was trained on 1.4 trillion tokens. Of that 1.4 trillion tokens, about 67% of the training data was from the Common Crawl (roughly ~3 terabytes of data).

3 terabytes is 3,000,000,000 kilobytes.

That’s 3 billion kilobytes.

According to a news article I saw, there has been ~450k words total published for this campaign (*this was while it was going on, that number has probably changed, but you’re about to see why that still doesn’t matter). So, roughly speaking, ~450k of text is ~1012 KB (I’m going off the document size of a plain text doc for a fic whose word count is ~440k).

So 1,012 out of 3,000,000,000.

Aka 0.000034%.

And that 0.000034% of 3 billion kilobytes is only 2/3s of the data for the first stage of training.

And not to beat a dead horse, but 0.000034% is still grossly overestimating the potential impact of posting A/B/O fic. Remember, only parts of AO3 would get scraped for Common Crawl datasets. Which are also huge! The October 2022 Common Crawl dataset is 380 tebibytes. The April 2021 dataset is 320 tebibytes. The 3 terabytes of Common Crawl data used to train LLaMA was randomly selected data that totaled to less than 1% of one full dataset. Not to mention, LLaMA’s training dataset is currently on the (much) larger size as compared to most LLM training datasets.

I also feel the need to point out again that AO3 is trying to prevent any Common Crawl scraping in the future, which would include protection for these new stories (several of which are also locked!).

Omegaverse just isn’t going to do anything to AI. Individual fics are going to do even less. Even if all of AO3 suddenly became omegaverse, it’s just not prominent enough to influence anything in regards to LLMs. You cannot affect training datasets in any meaningful way doing this. And while this might seem really disappointing, this is actually a good thing.

Remember that anything an individual can do to LLMs, the person you hate most can do the same. If it were possible for fandom to corrupt AI with omegaverse, fascists, bigots, and just straight up internet trolls could pollute it with hate speech and worse. AI already carries a lot of biases even while developers are actively trying to flatten that out, it’s good that organized groups can’t corrupt that deliberately.

#generative ai #pulling this out wasnt really prompted by anything specific #so much as heard some repeated misconceptions and just #sighs #nope #incorrect #u got it wrong #sorry #unfortunately for me: no consistent tag to block #sigh #ao3

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ghostly-penumbra · 1 month

Text

Father and Sons

Ao3 FFN

Summary: Clockwork is Danny's loving, adoptive grandpa. Time is the Endless neglectful father. They are one and the same.

[Chapter One]

Chapter Two: Introduction

- - -

Danny glared at the pages of his book willing them to make sense through his mounting headache.

“C’mon, Fenton this isn’t rocket science!”

“Actually,” his book said, closing itself in his grasp and using its pages as a mouth, “I am.” It turned, showing Danny its cover with the title Rocket Science for Stressed College Ghosts by D. J. F.

“Oh, yeah, you are. Still, though,” he opened the book again, finding his childhood drawing of himself astride a rocket, “gotta keep my mind in the game.”

“Daniel Fenton.”

Danny looked up at the sound of his name and found a guy around his age who reminded him of himself in a weird, funhouse-mirror kinda way.

He was as pale as snow (no, really!) with wild white hair that defied gravity and green eyes as bright as the emerald gleaming on his chest, which was the only speck of colour in an otherwise solid white ensemble.

Before Danny could ask him if he needed anything, he realized something, “Oh, this is a Dream.” He stood up and found his sleeping body drooling all over his notebook, with several empty cups of coffee around him like a summoning circle. (One to which he wouldn’t mind being summoned to, if he was honest.)

“Would you walk with me, Daniel?” The guy asked.

With the ease of one who’s dreaming, Danny said, “I don’t really like leaving my body behind…”

“Your soul remains attached to it, it would just be your consciousness being away.”

Danny looked at his sleeping form for another half moment before nodding, “Yeah, okay.”

They left the library together, walking through the campus unperceived by those still up and about.

“I know you, right? You seem familiar.” Asked Danny at last.

“Yes, we have met before. Almost a hundred years ago for me, though I doubt it’s been so long for you. And it never actually happened, in the end.”

“You’re Clockwork’s son!” The halfa exclaimed as if it had made perfect sense. Since he was dreaming, it had. “Sorry, last time you… looked different.”

Dream of the Endless nodded, and his green eyes gave way to the visage of a starry night sky. “I was different.” He whispered, more to himself than Danny.

“I didn’t think I’d see ya again, if I’m being honest.” At the inquisitive sound Dream made, Danny elaborated, “I’ve met some of your siblings and, well, I know I’m not you guys’ favorite person, even if you don’t mess with me ‘n’ stuff…”

“Yes.” Dream nodded. “I imagine.”

After another moment of silence, the Endless spoke again.

“I came to you to ask for a favour.” Danny looked at him curiously, and Dream procured a bent, artsy-looking pocket watch from his white coat. “I’ve finally retrieved my father’s saeculum; it must be returned to him. I don’t wish to bother him again, so I believe it would be better to ask you to deliver it when next you visit him, if you are amenable.”

“Of course no problem.” Danny took the watch in his hands and turned it this way and that. “Huh, I think I’ve seen him working on this.” He said awkwardly to fill the silence.

Danny stared at Dream, his lips pursed and Dream stared back, impassive.

“I don’t mind helping you out with this, but… you could… go and visit him, that’d be cool. I think he would like that.” Danny finally said not meeting the other’s eye.

“My father has made it quite clear he doesn’t.” Dream said. “You were there, Daniel.”

“Yes! I- I know, but… if it’s a social visit, he’ll like it, I’m sure of that.” Dream looked at him hard, incredulous, and Danny sighed. “Look, I know Clockwork is not the best father he could be, and that’s on him not on you or your siblings, but… I care about him, yeah? And he’ll probably ground me for saying this, but he’s lonely! And I… just… think that if you came over just to say hi, he’d like that.”

They had stopped walking, and Danny still couldn’t look Dream in the eye, his gaze instead on his white shoes.

“I don’t need your help.” Dream said after a moment and Danny flinched, afraid he had overstepped and now Clockwork’s son would go to him himself and throw Danny’s words to his face and- “But I was curious;” the Endless continued over Danny’s internal panicking, making him halt and finally look up into starry eyes, “as I said, last time we met, I was different, other. Whatever my predecessor, the first Dream of the Endless thought of you is out of my reach, but looking at these memories… I’m curious as to what kind of person is the one my father favours so that he has adopted you as his grandson, doting on you as he doesn’t on his children.”

Danny felt himself being measured, his worth put on a scale against his grandpa’s seven children for their right to him.

He knew it wasn’t a competition because he had already won. That didn’t make him feel good.

“I see now that you love him, independently of whatever boon he granted you, but you don’t covet his attention, so he doesn’t deny it to you. You see him as other than his post so he presents himself to you that way.”

Danny didn’t know what to say, he probably didn’t understand everything that was being not said by his chosen grandpa’s son.

He couldn’t say ‘he’s not that bad, really’ without having to omit ‘to me’ and he didn’t want to lie so he just changed the topic. Or rather, he came back on topic.

“I’ll give him the sæculum next time I see him, and you won’t owe me anything, I’ll do it gladly,” he looked again at the surrealistic piece of art, wondering what was its purpose, before looking back at Dream, “but please, just think about it that’s all I ask.” He finished with a small, helpless shrug.

“I will consider it, but I can’t promise you anything.” Dream said, and Danny almost sighed in relief, but held it back. “But regardless of that…” The Endless began again, and Danny straightened, as he felt he was the one in the other’s debt, “my father has taken you in as his grandson and that makes us family.”

Danny blinked, startled, and waited for Dream to elaborate on that, but when he didn’t Danny assumed he must’ve missed some social cue and hurried to answer, “I mean, that’s- optional, y’know? With it being a symbolic adoption and all, not even legal though very real for us. You don’t have to. I wouldn’t want ya to feel some, obligation if you don’t want to be-”

“I want to.”

Danny stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the person-shaped concept facing him, speechless.

“I want to be your family, Danny. If you are amenable to it.”

“I- that’s- ah, I, I don’t- yeah! Yes.” Danny said, mind still lagging. “That, I’d like that.”

#Danny Phantom #The Sandman #Danny Fenton #Dream of the Endless #Daniel Hall #Clockwork #Father Time #ghostly-scrypts

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spell-cleaver · 1 year

Note

I know it's probably not going to happen, but I would LOVE it if in the Kenobi series Vader comes across kid luke. Like neither of them are aware who the other is, but they end up having a brief exchange (maybe kid luke is admiring vaders ship and vader despite being a touch annoyed by the ray of sunshine that is luke, is somewhat amused how this kid is a) not afraid of him and b) shares his love for ships

I am so sorry (as always) for the long wait - you sent this in March last year 🙈 But here it is.

Read it on AO3 or on FFN instead!

“Wow.”

Vader turned at the tiny word, more an exhalation than a sigh, and nearly took a step back when he saw a child darting across the sands to where he’d landed his TIE Advanced. The presence he’d felt—though, admittedly, not the pitch of voice—had meant Vader had expected an older, larger person to be the originator, but no matter. It just meant it was easier for Vader to flick his wrist and send the child flying.

He tumbled head over heels, landing in the sand with a flump. That didn’t faze him, though. Vader was trying to survey the desert from the outcropping he’d landed his TIE near to, and this child apparently had no respect for the gravitas of the moment. He got up and ran at the TIE again.

“I’ve never seen one in person! How fast does it go?”

“That is none of your concern. Get out of my sight and leave me be.”

The boy ignored him. “What’re the specs like? I’ve built the smaller toy versions before, and Uncle Owen lets me tinker with the speeder with him, but this is life-sized!” He marched up to the TIE and peered through its viewport, squinting at it. The eye-shaped viewport seemed to squint back. “What model is it? I like tracking TIE fighters, but I’ve never seen this one before—”

“That is because it is custom.” Vader’s tone was flat. “It has not yet been approved for mass construction. Which means you should not touch it and leave me be.”

“But I saw you fly in! It’s so smooth and fast! Why wouldn’t it be produced—”

“Because it is built to have shields, and it is not worth mass-producing models with shields. TIE pilots are expected to fly better than that. If you intend on bothering me”—where had this child even come from? Playing in the canyons wasn’t exactly encouraged behaviour on Tatooine—“inform me as to where I can find Obi-Wan Kenobi. Reports indicate he is hiding on this planet.”

“Obi-Wan?” the boy asked, frowning. He reached out in awe and plastered his hand on the smooth curve of the TIE’s wing.

“Do not touch that.”

“I don’t know an Obi-Wan Kenobi—”

“Then you are useless to me. Remove your hand from my ship before I remove it from your body entirely.”

The boy huffed. What oceans of insolence did he possess to have so little fear of him? “The speeder broke down,” he whined. “Uncle Owen’s down there tryna fix it, but he won’t let me help after I spilled the grease, and I’m bored—”

“I am not here to entertain you.” Vader turned sharply when he realised that the boy’s hand—which was, indeed, still covered in the grease he’d apparently spilled—had left a tiny, insolent handprint on the wing. He marched up and tried to wipe it off; it was unbefitting. The grease just smeared. “Begone.”

“My name’s Luke, by the way. Who’re you?”

“I have no interest in your name.”

“But—”

This was useless. Vader could hardly sense Kenobi with this background chatter; he would have to find another spot from which to scour the planet through the Force, until he left no rock’s shadow uninspected. Waving his hand again and sending the child flip-flopping through the sand, he climbed back into the cockpit and roared into the horizon.

He pretended not to hear—or sense—the child’s whooping delight as he did.

The Rebels had evacuated the base. Vader knew that before he got there: knew that he would not find his son in there, or any of his allies. Nonetheless, perhaps they would have left something behind. Perhaps he could glean their next steps, and find his son that way, if he tried.

That was how he found himself standing in the hangar. Most of the ships had gone—that was how the Rebels had evacuated, of course—but not all of them. Some people had been on other transports. Luke, for one, had been on the Falcon when the warning came, and apparently Solo had not wasted time in the escape.

So, Luke’s X-wing stood in the empty hangar, the kill badge for the Death Star displayed proudly on its side.

Vader’s breathing was incapable of hitching, but his chest felt tight as he circled it. This was the ship he had nearly shot down over Yavin, not knowing its significance. He could feel the joy and passion Luke had poured into it, its upkeep—the sheer delight of flight—and how much he cared. Vader’s gaze lingered on the shields: they were particularly well-maintained, which soothed him. Dogfights were dangerous, and Luke…

Vader glanced over the ship again. He would bring this back to the Executor. It might have… information… for him.

It was on his third circle of it that he noticed the handprint. Several, in fact, but this one was the clearest. A hand covered in grease had rested on the nose of the X-wing for a moment, happily and lovingly, and the print it had left behind gleamed in the dim light.

Vader reached up to rest his own hand, so much larger, on top of it. It smeared the print, and grease came away on his glove.

Still, he held it there. When he tried to picture Luke as a child, with small, chubby hands for his father to hold, an image of a blond, Tatooinian boy flashed to mind immediately. He didn’t know where from. He never would: Luke’s childhood was lost to him.

But his future wasn’t. Vader lifted his hand from the print and, own glove covered in grease, planted his own mark beside Luke’s.

Their future was ripe for the taking.

#ask prompt #my writing #random words on a page #luke skywalker #darth vader #for darkness shows the stars #anon #anonymous #'ask received 12th march 2022' as always I am So So Sorry

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be11atrixthestrange · 2 months

Text

The Loft 8

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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In a crazy turn of events, I updated The Loft after 2 years... :)

Chapter 8

A watched egg never cooks. Is that the saying? Ron doesn’t know — he’s terrible at idioms and shit. If it’s not a saying, it’s definitely accurate.

He stands in front of the stove, waiting for his egg to fry. It’s taking forever, and he’s tempted to just leave it there, but maybe then he’d burn the whole loft down. That, or Vicky would eat it.

Vicky’s here this morning, just like he was here yesterday morning. And the morning before that. It almost feels like they have another roommate, one that doesn’t pay rent and that Ron didn’t choose. Well, he didn’t choose Hermione either, but that worked out. Sort of.

Ever since Hermione and Victor became ‘official’, they’ve spent almost every waking moment together. Ron comes home after work, Krum is here. He wakes up in the morning, Krum is still here. The only time Krum seems to spend outside of the apartment is between the hours of 9-5, and one hour at night, 8-9 pm, on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Whenever Ron has asked where he goes, he gets all weird and quiet. Whenever he asks Hermione, she doesn’t seem to know or care.

“Honestly, Ron, it’s important for couples to spend time apart.”

“But Hermione, do you know where he goes?”

“No, because I respect his privacy.”

Why is Vicky the only one in this loft entitled to privacy? He often wonders when someone empties the laundry machine and leaves a trail of socks and underwear across the living room floor, or late at night when he can hear his roommates’ beds creaking, knowing they brought home a companion, a poor soul who has no idea how thin the walls are.

It begs the question, what kind of dark shit is Krum getting up to between the hours of 8 and 9pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays if he can’t even tell his girlfriend about it?

Maybe he has an embarrassing hobby. Or a gambling addiction. Or a second girlfriend.

Ron tries to ignore his heart’s fluttering in response to the last thought. What sort of friend would hope for that kind of thing?

“You might want to turn the stove on,” comes a gruff voice, interrupting Ron’s thoughts. “Or your egg will never cook.”

With a groan, Ron flicks on the burner.

“Are you okay?” asks Krum as he takes a seat at the kitchen counter. “You seem distracted.”

Ron glances back at his unwelcome roommate. His thick robe hangs loosely around his waist, forming a deep v neck that exposes Krum’s chiseled pecs and chest hair. Why can’t the dude just cover himself up a bit?

“M’fine.”

“Okay then. Look, I’m going to be out of town for the weekend—”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” interrupts Ron.

“Sorry?”

“You don’t even live here, so you don’t have to tell us when you’ll be out.”

Ron keeps his back to Krum as he lets the awkward pause wash over. Sure, maybe he should be nicer to the guy, but someone should gently tell him he’s overstaying his welcome. Hermione won’t.

“I was just going to ask if I could keep my car out front. Sometimes I get towed if I leave it out at my apartment—”

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Great,” says Krum as he rises to his feet and turns back toward Hermione’s room. “Thanks.”

“Where are you going this weekend?”

“Nowhere.” The sound of Hermione’s door closing punctuates Krum’s response.

Hmm. Very odd.

Moments later, Harry appears from his bedroom door, still disheveled in his pajamas. “What’s got you down?”

“Vicky.”

“What about Viktor?”

“I’m telling you, he’s giving me the creeps.”

Harry chuckles. “Since when?”

“The cabin trip we all went on.”

Harry lets a full laugh escape, as he responds. “You’re ridiculous. He never bothered you before.”

“I think he’s cheating on Hermione.”

Harry’s eyes narrow and glances toward Hermione’s bedroom. “She doesn’t deserve that, but how do you know?”

“Gut feeling.”

“Ron—”

“I think if I went to his place, I’d find proof.” Ron raises an eyebrow at his friend, who violently shakes his head.

“No.”

“Please come with me? I’ll give you free beer.”

“No. Plus you always give me free beer.”

Ron shrugs. “I’m going alone then. He’ll be out of town this weekend, and it’s the perfect opportunity to just check in.”

Harry groans. “You’re going to force my hand aren’t you?”

“Just come with me and make sure I don’t do anything unreasonable?”

“Going in the first place is unreasonable.”

“Still gonna do it.”

Ron knows that Harry can’t resist a little bit of mischief, so all he has to do is wait him out. Ninety percent of the unreasonable things Ron has done in his life have involved his best friend.

Like clockwork, Harry raises an eyebrow. “Okay. When are you going?”

“Tomorrow morning, after Krum leaves town.”

Harry groans. “You know this is a terrible idea?”

“Yes. But I don’t care.”

“We’re not going to do anything illegal, right?”

Ron imagines what exactly they’ll do tomorrow — show up at Krum’s apartment and just open the door? If Vicky’s dumb enough to leave his door unlocked while he’s out of town, then sure. But he’s definitely not dumb. If he was, Hermione would be staying far far away from him, and yet, here they are. It won’t be the first time Ron has snuck into a window. He was a horny teenager with a girlfriend and strict parents before, and crowbars are quite effective.

“No, of course we won’t do anything illegal.”

Harry nods. “Then fine,” he says, the reluctance in his voice rather light.

“Knew I could count on you.”

It doesn’t take long for Ron and Harry to locate Viktor’s address — the internet is a wonderful invention. They pull up to his street and emerge from the car. On Ron’s back is a bag equipped with a crowbar, a rope, and a clipboard. Ron’s found that holding a clipboard is the best way to look like you’re supposed to be there.

“None of this makes sense, mate.”

“Sure it does.”

As Ron shuffles along the pavement of an unfamiliar neighborhood, Harry trots behind him in an effort to keep up.

“You have no evidence that he’s cheating.”

“That’s why we’re doing this. To find some.”

“Ugh.”

Harry and Ron eventually stumble to the front porch of Viktor Krum’s duplex. It is larger than expected, but slightly run-down. The grass in the front lawn needs to be mowed, and on the front porch sit two pots that once housed plants, maybe. By the looks of it, no one has watered them in years. The paint is peeling off of the siding, and one of the stairs on the front stoop has rotted through. Even though their loft is still rather dumpy, Viktor’s makes it look like a castle.

“No wonder he’s always staying at our apartment.”

Ron peers around to the side of the house. A cracked window reveals an unmade bed inside. From his research, Ron knows that Krum lives in the first apartment on the left.

“We’re going in through the window.”

“Breaking and entering, cool,” grumbles Harry.

“Just entering. No need to break.”

Harry and Ron tiptoe across the overgrown grass and when they reach the window, it takes both of them to wedge it up high enough for them to fit through. Harry props Ron up and he slithers head-first into Viktor Krum’s bedroom. Harry follows, and both boys land in a thud on the carpet of the darkened room.

“You’d think he’d be able to afford a nicer place,” says Ron.

“Maybe he’s saving for an engagement ring or something,” sniggers Harry.

“Fuck mate, why would you say that?”

“To watch you squirm.”

Harry and Ron get to searching Krum’s apartment, flipping over couch cushions and rummaging through bookshelves looking for something — anything — that might belong to a girl who isn’t Hermione. Jewelry, clothing, makeup, perfume. One sniff and Ron would surely be able to tell if the perfume is hers.

“What’s this?” Harry’s voice travels from a smaller room attached to the living area. Ron peers inside to find a cluttered desk next to a bookshelf. Lining the shelf is a collection of Agatha Christie and Stephen King novels, and writing utensils galore. Harry is standing at the desk with a thick binder in his hands. “I think it’s a story.”

“Let me read it.” Ron yanks the binder from Harry’s hands and turns to a random page.

“She was dead. So very dead. The way her bushy brown hair splayed across the ground and nearly blended in with the fallen leaves made her look so natural in that state, like she was finally at peace. But her eyes were open, revealing the look of shock in her face. But there was something else there. Recognition. Betrayal.

Her hand still clutched the stab wound in her stomach, and Special Agent Reid knew that her stomach lining wasn’t the only thing that had recently been broken. So had her heart.

Clearly, she knew her killer. And most likely, if statistics proved to be true — and Spencer Reid always trusted statistics — it was her lover.”

“What the fuck is this?” splutters Ron.

Harry laughs. “I don’t know, but I’d be embarrassed if someone found that at my desk. I think he’s just writing. Special Agent Reid is a character on Criminal Minds.”

“Yeah, and the dead girl with bushy brown hair is clearly Hermione.”

“It appears to be fanfiction.”

Who the fuck writes fanfiction? “Oddly specific fanfiction.”

“I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about,” shrugs Harry. “It’s probably just a creative outlet.”

“She was killed by her lover, Harry.”

“We should probably go,” says Harry. “I’m nervous someone saw us sneaking in here, and we can’t find what we’re looking for.”

Can’t find what we’re looking for? What the fuck is he talking about? “Harry, we’ve found something much worse than what we’re looking for.”

“Fanfiction?”

“No, evidence that he thinks about killing Hermione.”

“He doesn’t think about that, Ron. He’s just writing.”

“Why aren’t you more concerned about this?”

“Honestly?” Harry shrugs. “Because he’s not a bad guy. He treats Hermione well. He’s kind. And we just discovered an embarrassing secret of his and should probably keep it to ourselves.”

“Don’t you think we should tell her and let her decide if it’s concerning?”

“Hermione’s a grown woman who can take care of herself.”

Ron sighs. He pulls his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture of the open page of Krum’s story. “Well I’m going to tell her.”

“How are you going to explain why we were in his apartment?”

“Dunno.”

“Want my opinion, Ron?”

No. Not really. Ron decides not to answer, but Harry continues anyway.

“Leave her alone. It really feels like you want him to be cheating on her. Or to, I dunno, be plotting to murder her.” He gestures to the binder when he emphasizes the word. “See how ridiculous it sounds when I say it?”

Ron has to admit that Harry has a point.

“I know you care about her, so stop sabotaging your friendship by meddling in her relationship.”

Ron grunts. “When did you become so good at relationships?”

Harry gets a strange look in his eye. “Well, if you must know—”

“No, I don’t need to know,” grumbles Ron, as the memory of Harry and Ginny holding hands flashes across his mind.

“Fair enough,” says Harry with a smile. “Let’s get out of here before we get caught?”

“Yeah,” agrees Ron . Probably a good idea.

Hours later, Ron is cleaning glasses at the Burrow while Harry sits across from him at the bar, picking at a pile of french fries in front of him. “I still can’t believe we snuck into his house.”

“I can,” says Ron with a shrug. Honestly, it felt a lot like storming Cormac for Hermione’s belongings when she first moved in. Some people make Ron want to throw logic out the window.

“You’re an awful influence, Ron.”

No, Hermione’s the awful influence. Ron turns to stack newly washed glasses on the shelf at the back of the bar. He is definitely being unreasonable. Hermione, in no way shape or form, caused him to break into Krum’s apartment. It was his concern for her that did. Because he cares. Plus, even if Harry doesn’t agree, if you ask Ron, they found what they were looking for.

“Hello, roommates.” Hermione’s voice echoes from the front door. It’s only three o’clock, and the bar doesn’t pick up until later, and the lack of people in the room makes Hermione’s presence seem all that much stronger.

“Oh, hi Hermione,” says Ron.

“Hey, Hermione. Good to see ya,” says Harry. “Also, I’m going to be late to meet Gin, so see you back at the loft later—”

“I didn’t know you were hanging out with Ginny today.”

Harry pushes his half-eaten french fries out of the way and rises to his feet. “Bye!”

Hermione takes his empty chair, and both of them watch Harry scuffle out the front door with an extra pep in his step.

“That was weird,” says Hermione with a shrug.

“Yeah.”

She pulls Harry’s plate of french fries closer to her, and plucks at one. “So what did you two do today?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Really? I just didn’t see either of you at the loft.”

Ron avoids her eye contact and shrugs. “Guy stuff.”

“Right,” she says, while she cocks her head to the side, studying him. “So are you working till close?”

“Yep.” Ron feels a pang of guilt at how terse his answers are. Ever since the cabin, he’s been quite short with her. He tells himself he’s just giving her space, but deep down, he knows it goes beyond that.

Hermione persists. “Mind if I hang out here for a while? Obviously Ginny’s busy with Harry and Viktor’s gone for the weekend.”

“Sure,” he says. Then, willing himself to keep the conversation flowing, he adds “You still don’t know where Viktor is this weekend?”

Hermione hesitates before answering. “Just on a trip.”

So she does know where he is? Or maybe she doesn’t and it worries her.

Overwhelmed with a desire to come clean, Ron turns back to her. “Can I tell you something, and you promise you won’t get mad at me?”

Hermione seems to brighten at the fact that his answer is longer than one word. “No, I can’t promise that, Ron. But please tell me.”

Ron groans. He shouldn’t say anything. But he does. “He gives me a weird vibe. Something’s off.”

“Of course he does,” says Hermione, rolling her eyes.

“What does that mean?” asks Ron, his defenses rising.

“Seriously, Ron?” she asks, her voice incredulous. “Tell me, Ron, see that guy in the booth?”

Ron follows her gesture to one of the only other patrons currently in the bar — a middle aged man reading a book and sipping an IPA. “Yes.” “Does he give you a weird vibe?”

“No, not really.”

“If I were to walk over to him and snog him, would he then give you a weird vibe?”

What kind of question is that? “Yes, but because he’s willing to snog a stranger in a bar—”

“You’re not willing to snog strangers at bars?” Ron’s mind darts back to Lavender. Sure, he was willing to snog strangers at bars, but they all know how that turned out.

“Okay, what are you saying?”

“I know we’re dancing around it Ron. It’s the elephant in the room.”

The hair on Ron’s arm tingles as it stands on edge. The last thing he expects is for Hermione to actually name the elephant in the room. Does this mean she’s about to shut him down once and for all? Tell him she’s happy with Krum? And that he should fuck off? Well, Fuck.

“Okay, but—”

“I love being your friend and your roommate, I’m in a stable relationship, and not willing to change that right now.”

Shit.

Hermione continues. “Will Viktor and I marry each other? Probably not. But at this point in my life, this is what I need.”

So, Hermione thinks Ron is pining uncontrollably for her? Is that how it is? “I didn’t break up with Lavender because of you, you know.”

“Oh, I know.”

Does she know, though?

“And that is not why Krum gives me a vibe.”

She laughs. “Okay, why then?”

Ron groans. He really shouldn’t show her. Even if she thinks he found it at the loft, she’d probably just get angry at him for going through his things. But, for some reason, he can’t resist. “I found this today.”

Ron pulls his phone from his pocket and clicks through his photos. When the photo of Krum’s little story surfaces, he slides his phone to her across the bar.

Hermione picks it up and her eyebrows narrow to the text. “Where did you find this, Ron?”

What can he say? On his desk. In his apartment. The one I broke into earlier. “He left it out,” says Ron. It’s technically not a lie.

“That’s an invasion of his privacy,” says Hermione, coldly.

“Does it not concern you?”

Hermione shrugs. “Honestly, no, it doesn’t. He’s already shown me.”

“What?”

Hermione contemplates before giving up more details. “He’s taking a creative writing class, and this was one of his assignments,” she says, gesturing to Ron’s phone. “To write a fanfiction story from his favorite show. And he loves Criminal Minds.”

“Are you serious?” Harry was fucking right.

“Yes, it’s what he does every Tuesday and Thursday night. And that’s where he is now, actually, at a writing retreat.”

“So he’s like… serious about writing?”

Hermione shrugs.

“It doesn’t bother you that you’re the dead girl in that story?”

“Not really, no.”

“And that you were killed by your lover?”

Hermione laughs but shakes her head.

“It’s not very good.” He’s definitely grasping at straws now.

“I know that,” says Hermione. Ron’s pleasantly surprised that she agrees with him.

“Why does he do it?”

“He enjoys it. Isn’t that enough?” Finishing off Harry’s old fries, Hermione wipes her hand on a napkin. “Can I have a cream ale?”

“Sure,” says Ron as he reaches for a pint glass. “So you’re confident that he doesn’t want to kill you?”

Hermione laughs. “No, he doesn’t, thank god.”

“He’s not going to break your stomach lining and then your heart?”

“Okay,” groans Hermione. “Don’t be mean.”

Ron hands her the dripping cream ale. She smiles and takes it from him, her cheeks tinging pink with what Ron presumes is secondhand embarrassment. Honestly, it’s quite nice that she supports him, even though his hobby is a bit weird. It’s what Ron would call a green flag. Krum is a lucky bastard.

“My heart isn’t breakable right now, anyway,” she adds, before taking a sip of the foam layer at the top of her beer.

Ron cocks an eyebrow.

“Still have too many walls up, you know.”

“Oh I know, you’re a total ice queen.”

Hermione laughs, and Ron feels himself relax. It was a tough few days of not speaking freely with her.

“Thank you for talking to me. I missed having you as my friend,” she says.

The way she emphasizes friend sits strangely with Ron. As though she’s dictating the specific role she wants him to play right now. For some reason, it doesn’t feel quite like being friendzoned, and he can’t figure out why. There’s something temporary about the way she says friend.

Or is he reading way too much into that? He doesn’t want to be her friend. And yet, he loves being her friend. How does that even make sense?

“Right,” says Ron, cautiously. “So if I wanted to write bad fanfiction, would you support me? As a friend?”

“Of course!” says Hermione cheerfully. “I’d beta read for you.”

“Well then, maybe I’ll take up the habit. Show you I have other talents besides giving you free beer and being your attractive roommate.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, yet a smile graces her lips. “I bet you’d be a good writer,” she says as she gulps down the last of her beer.

“Maybe you’ll find out. Want another beer?”

“Sure!”

Ron pulls her glass away and refills it under the tap. This is definitely the weirdest friendship he has. But he’ll play along.

For now.

It is far too late when Ron finally makes it home from the bar, and as much as he wants to sleep, he’s too wired from his conversation before. He strips down to his boxers and collapses into the bed. Although he would love to continue talking with Hermione, there are no signs of life in any of the bedrooms, so it’s a safe bet that everyone in the loft is asleep.

Ron turns to his side and reaches his phone on his bedside table. Without a second thought, he starts typing away. Hopefully Hermione has her text notifications on silent. There is no reason she can’t have two story tellers in her life.

“She was about 5’6, had brown eyes, and wore a Hamilton t-shirt. She loved to watch romantic comedies and was a total coffee snob, even though she couldn’t tell the difference between a cappuccino and a latte. Her sultry gaze and bushy brown hair splayed wildly out at all angles, making her appear like a sexy medusa. In fact she could turn you rock hard in an instant. She had her whole life ahead of her. Or so she thought…”

Before he can overthink it, Ron presses send.

His heart rate quickens as he stares at his message. She’s asleep, so there is no way she’ll see it until tomorrow morning—

Then, three little dots appear at the bottom of his screen, and his palms begin to sweat. Oh shit.

“Oh my god, Ron, what is this?”

Well, he’s committed now.

“Little did she know, her life as she knew it was about to end. In walked a man, about 6’5, bright red hair, and a pale, yet chiseled adonis-like body. Nothing like her current boyfriend, but everything she wished her current boyfriend could be. He didn’t waste time writing fanfiction and playing sports, and instead crafted beautiful cocktails from the basement dive bar, was quite broke, and regularly forgot to do his laundry. Like a REAL MAN.”

Hermione is quicker to respond this time. “You’re ridiculous. But keep going please.”

Yes, ma’am. “And he wasn’t just a sex god. He was also a… dun dun dun… MURDERER.”

“LMAO. This is so mean. But I’m laughing so hard.”

Ron continues typing away. “She knew all of this. And yet, she still wanted him. She didn’t care if it was her last night on earth, because she knew it would be her best night on earth. And that was all she needed.”

“OMG now you’re getting carried away.”

She’s not wrong, yet something urges him to keep going. “She entered his apartment, so he could enter HER.”

Yeah, maybe he is getting carried away, but it’s fun, so what’s the harm? Plus, she promised to support his creative writing journey.

While waiting for Hermione’s response, Ron’s bedroom door bursts open, and Hermione stomps across the room. Her face is flushed and Ron can tell she is trying to hide a smile. “Phone, please?” she asks, her arm extended.

“No, I’m writing a story!”

Hermione stands her ground. “You’ve lost your phone privileges.”

“But I’m going to be the next Stephen King.”

Hermione lets out a laugh and dives onto the bed, wrestling his hand for his phone. She braces her knees on either side of him, pinning him between her legs. Ron makes a show of struggling, but as much as he wants to keep her there forever, he eventually lets her win.

“Fine,” he says, handing over his phone.

It only takes a moment for them to pause, limbs entangled, for Ron’s mind to run wild. How easy would it be for him to turn the moment serious? He could wrap an arm around her waist and pin her to him. He doubts she’d resist. She has a boyfriend, but she also seems surprisingly comfortable with her arms draped around Ron’s body. She knows he’s only wearing boxers under the covers, right?

They linger there for a moment that solidifies Ron’s inkling from before. She bites her lip, her eyes dart down toward the covers. The way she doesn’t immediately jump off of the bed when she notices that he’s in his underwear suggests that the friendzone is an arbitrary construct.

Ron steadies his voice in an effort to hide his rising heart beat. “Careful, Hermione. I’m a sex god with a habit for murder.”

Yeah, took one second for him to fuck that up.

“I fucking hate you,” she says, as she wrangles herself back up, his phone in her hand. “You are most definitely not a killer.”

Yeah, it took one second for him to fuck that up. However, Ron’s stomach flutters at the sound of her swearing. She hardly ever cusses, only when she’s with him. “Right, but am I a sex god?”

Hermione laughs. “I wouldn’t know, would I?”

Ron raises an eyebrow. “Care to find out?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have had that whiskey shot at the end of his shift. He’s acting a bit too bold.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Her answer echoes in Ron’s mind. He doesn’t miss the way Hermione averts her gaze, and her cheeks flush red.

“I know. We’ve established that.” Then, with a inhale to gain courage, he adds, “But if you didn’t?”

Maybe Ron imagines it, but a look flashes across her eyes, and the corners of her lips turn up in a smile. She shakes her head as if to halt the beginning of a fantasy before it runs wild. “I really should sleep. Goodnight, Ron.”

“Night, Hermione.”

Ron grins as she turns and leaves the room, fully aware that she never answered his question.

#be11a loft #romione #ron and hermione #ron x hermione #hermione granger #hpromione #ron weasley #angst #ronweasley #romione fanfic #hp fanfic #muggle au #slow build #slow burn

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hannahmanderr · 1 year

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DannyMay Day 16 - Fangs

Words: 2,122 (FFN)

Summary: A few student interns at DALV notice some odd things about Mr. Masters. The reactions vary, to say the least. (inspired by a prompt borrowed from @danphanwritingprompts: A few student interns at DALV notice some odd things about Mr. Masters. Like hell they’re gonna call him out though; this is the only paid internship in the county)

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“Hey, have you guys noticed anything… weird about Mr. Masters?” Tariq asked as he slid into his cafeteria seat. The other four interns at the table looked up.

Dylan was the first to speak up. “Not really,” she said, looking back down at her lunch. “But I haven’t really seen him much. They’ve had me practically locked in those server rooms downstairs since the data breach last week.”

“They should just hire you at this point,” Linh-Nhu said as she began to peel an orange. “You’re basically doing the work of a full-time employee anyway.”

“I’m just glad this is a summer stint. I’d be a dead girl walking if I had to deal with this on top of classes.”

“Wait, wait,” Tariq interrupted. “That data breach, wasn’t it that weird ghost with the mullet that attacked last week?”

Dylan sighed and picked at her fried rice absently. “Unofficially? Yes. Officially? Apparently no. Something about having to deal with PR and all, since random CEOs from California apparently don’t buy the whole idea of ghosts in the first place.”

“You had better not be insinuating anything about Mr. Masters,” Marc said hotly, unfazed by Dylan’s woes. “Especially if you don’t have evidence to back it up!”

“Whoa, man, take it easy,” Tariq said. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Who said I was insinuating anything? I’m just curious is all.”

“I did overhear him talking to someone named Maddie over the phone the other day,” Linh-Nhu offered. “I don’t know what they were talking about, I was just passing by his office, but I was just confused because I could’ve sworn Mary-Claire said that Maddie was his cat.”

“He’s filthy rich,” Dylan said, pointing with her fork. “Rich people always do wacky things like talking to their cats on the phone.”

Tariq shook his head. “Nah, I’m not talking that kind of weird. I mean more like, physical things you’ve noticed about him.”

Marc slammed his water bottle onto the table with a little more force than was probably necessary. “Nope! Nuh-uh,” he said, wrinkling his nose into a look of disdain. “We should not be having this conversation in the first place! Do you realize how much trouble we’ll get in if someone overhears us?”

“Please, no one pays attention to the interns of all people,” Dylan retorted. She flipped her long brown ponytail over her shoulder. “I should know. My supervisor keeps calling me Diane. Any time I tell him it’s Dylan, he thinks I’m talking about the other Dylan, and he quit three weeks ago to move to Dallas.”

“Katarana, you haven’t said anything,” Tariq said, panning his eyes to the fifth and final member of their little intern group. “Have you seen anything weird going on with Mr. Masters?”

Katarana was still staring at Tariq with wide eyes. “No way,” she whispered. Then, with much more energy, “You’ve seen it too?”

“Seen what?”

She turned her head to Linh-Nhu, who had asked the question. “Vlad Masters is freaky,” she told the table. “We’re talking major freaky vibes.”

“Will you stop?” Marc hissed. “We cannot be talking about our boss like this!”

Dylan shrugged. “Free country, bro. What’s he gonna do to us?”

“Oh, hmm, I don’t know, how about fire us from one of the most prestigious internships in the country?”

She just grinned impishly. “And go back to Delaware, where I don’t have to worry about some dumb ghost thing interrupting my commute? Or try and steal all my cereal boxes again? Sign me up.”

“Marc, just shush for a minute, I wanna hear what Kat has to say,” Tariq said, flapping a hand dismissively at Marc. The latter drew his thick eyebrows together in a deep frown.

Katarana met each of their eyes in turn. “They say you can hear him talking in his office to other people, but when you open the door, he’ll be all alone. And others will swear up and down that the room will literally get hotter when he walks into a room, especially if he’s in a mood.”

Tariq scoffed. “Yeah, the same thing happens with my mom when she finds my dad’s sports magazines lying around all willy nilly. Come on, I’m looking for the juicy stuff here! I wanna see if any of you saw what I saw.”

“Your dad still gets actual, physical sports magazines? Like, in the mail?” Dylan said, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“I’m being serious here!” Katarana insisted, completely ignoring Dylan’s comment. “Jarvis told me the thermostat was reading 80 after a conference call gone wrong.”

“Wait.” Linh-Nhu frowned as she tried to process the information. She’d grown quiet and serious just within the past minute. “Am I the only one here from Amity Park?”

“I mean, I literally just got done talking about going back to Delaware, sooo…” Dylan shoveled a forkful of rice into her mouth.

“Not me,” Tariq said. “I basically go to school in the middle of a cornfield in Iowa. And honestly, I thought I was applying to the main branch for DALV in Madison.”

“I told them I was good with either,” Katarana said, shrugging. “Anything to get out of freaking Texas.”

“I haven’t lived in Amity Park, but I’ve basically been close enough,” Marc told the group. “Grand Rapids. About an hour or so north of here.”

“Bro, in what universe is an hour up the road ‘close enough’?” Tariq asked.

Linh-Nhu simply nodded. “So none of you have experience with ghosts,” she said. It was a statement, not a question. “Because if you did, you would know that Katarana’s claims are absolutely plausible.”

“What?” Marc screeched. “There is no way someone can heat a room just by entering it! Especially our boss, who gave us these jobs, need I remind you!”

“Says the guy who tried to say he pretty much lived here,” Dylan muttered under her breath.

“Wait, seriously?” Katarana said to Linh-Nhu. “I mean, not that I didn’t believe it was possible, but it has to do with ghosts?”

Linh-Nhu hesitated. “Possibly,” she conceded, “but not for certain. Here, it’s a well known fact that ghosts tend to have an effect on their immediate external environment, especially in times of heightened emotion or power. Most make it colder - especially a ghost such as Phantom - but there have been known to be some who can make the environment warmer instead.”

“How do you know all this?” Tariq asked. His eyes shone with a curious thirst, and accusation was nowhere to be found in his tone.

Linh-Nhu blushed. “I graduated from Casper High. It turned into a hotspot for ghost activity during my senior year,” she explained. “Plus I, um, might have sat in on one of Dr. Fenton’s public lectures. Or… more than one.”

“So you’re saying Vlad Masters is a ghost?” Katarana breathed. Dylan whistled, impressed.

“Oh, no! Nothing like that, of course. But… it’s certainly possible that ghost activity could be involved.”

“Both of you!” Marc seethed. “If you don’t quit making false accusations against Mr. Masters, I’m going to report you!”

“She literally just got done saying she wasn’t making any accusations!” Dylan said, gesturing towards Linh-Nhu, who had hidden her face behind her dark hair. “Like what is your deal, man? Why go so aggro all of a sudden?”

“Well, excuse me for having a sense of preservation about this internship!” he shot back. “Do you know how hard I worked to get here in the first place? This is one of the most competitive internships in the country! I had to go through a lot to make sure I got this job!”

“We all worked hard to get here,” Katarana said as she folded her arms across her chest. “Doesn’t make you any more special than the rest of us.”

“Can we go back to the part where Mr. Masters is potentially involved in some ghost crap?” Tariq whined. “I wanna tell you what I saw!”

“No one’s stopping you,” Dylan said. “Well, other than Marc apparently.”

Marc had buried his head into his arms. “We’re so getting fired,” he moaned, his voice muffled by his sweater.

Katarana practically glommed onto Tariq. “Do you have proof he’s a ghost or something?” she asked with her eyes gleaming in excitement.

“Alright, alright,” he said. He moved his arms in the universal ‘quiet down’ movement. “Gather ‘round, kids, ‘cause you won’t believe what I saw him do earlier.”

“I don’t know. You have to have a pretty open mind to live in Amity Park,” Linh-Nhu muttered quietly, the hints of an amused smile on the corners of her lips.

“Okay, so I’m in the copy room, right? Trying to un-jam one of the printers after it ate my reports. In walks Mr. Masters, and he’s on the phone going on about some deal with the S. Culcar client. He’s like, super up in arms about it all for some reason, and it literally gets to the point where he growls into the phone!” Tariq said, waving his arms theatrically.

“Growled? Like, a dog or something?” Dylan asked through another mouthful of her rice.

“Yeah, basically! It was so weird, but it wasn’t even the weirdest thing!”

“Because things can get weirder than a business mogul growling at one of his clients?” Dylan deadpanned.

“Oh, they absolutely can,” Tariq said with the air of someone trying to create a mystery. He took a long, dramatic swig from his Dr. Pepper before continuing. “He keeps getting angry, something about a failure to find someone, or something, I don’t know. But anyway, he yells something, and he’s got his teeth all bared and stuff, like he was seriously channeling a dog or something. And I look over, just cause he’s being so loud and stuff, and he’s literally got fangs showing.”

The table was silent for a long moment. “Wait, hang on,” Katarana said, waving her hands. “You’re telling me Mr. Masters has fangs? Like he’s some sort of lion?”

“Yes! Exactly!” Tariq exclaimed with a vigorous nod. Clearly, he was waiting for a different sort of response.

“You know, some people just have really sharp canines,” Marc said, apparently interested enough in the conversation to temporarily get past his resistance to it in the first place. “Are you sure it wasn’t just that?”

“Nuh-uh. These things were bonafide fangs, all long and stuff and poking into his lip and everything!”

“Do ghosts even have fangs?” Dylan asked. “I thought they were supposed to be all gooey and stuff inside. Or something, anyway. I guess the two ghosts from last week weren’t super gooey.”

“Ghosts can present in a number of different ways,” Linh-Nhu said, re-launching into her teacher voice. “Many are humanoid, like Technus and Phantom - the two from the ‘data breach’ you’re talking about. Some are more blob-like, others are more like animals. Really, they can take any form, as far as I’m aware.”

“Oh! Oh! What about that thing they can do where they can possess people?”

Linh-Nhu hummed. “I don’t know if that would necessarily alter a person’s appearance. Usually the ghost takes over the person from the inside to avoid detection. I don’t know much else about that, though. I suppose there were a number of students and teachers who were possessed during that first major ghost attack, but they didn’t show any physical signs, I think.”

“So then he is a ghost?” Tariq asked.

“I still think we need to wait to make calls like this until we have certain proof,” Marc said, his chin propped up on his arms lying on the table. “I might not be from here, but I’ve been here long enough to see that one couple, the… Fontaines? Finleys? I’m not sure. Either way, I don’t want to lose my job and find myself on the wrong end of one of those guns.”

“But if he’s a ghost, or possessed by one - whatever - shouldn’t we tell someone?” Katarana frowned. “Like the one ghost kid who stopped Techno-babble or whoever it was.”

Linh-Nhu laughed lightly. “I’d be impressed if you could track him down. He’s a slippery one.”

Dylan suddenly slammed her hands on the table, startling the other four interns. “I got it!” she shouted. Her voice drew the attention of a few other employees sitting nearby.

“Think about it!” she continued. “Those fancy suits, the whole white-hair-at-the-age-of-40 thing, now the literal fangs and have you seen how pale that man is? There’s an obvious answer: Vlad Masters is a vampire!”

The table fell into a stunned silence again.

“Well, at least he’s a vampire who pays his interns,” said an utterly defeated Marc, letting his head fall back into his arms.

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay2023 #dannymay 2023 #danny phantom vlad #vlad masters #danny phantom fanfic #hannah writes #not so great at writing dialogue heavy stuff lol

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infestedguest · 8 months

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One of the reasons Blue Sky by Wafflestories is one of my all time favorite fanfictions (controversial opinion I know /s) is that, outside of the context of that story, I’ve never really seen the appeal of the ship that it centers, yet I still genuinely adore the fic, including the romantic parts.

I don’t hate Chell x Wheatley, I’ve just always thought it was one of those ships where people saw a non-romantic piece of media featuring a man and a woman and went “Wanna know what would spice this up? Heteronormativity!” But I’ve reread Blue Skies over and over throughout the years since I first read it back in 2015 because the author was successfully able to show me through their writing what they saw in the ship that made them like it.

I still don’t see the appeal of the ship just going off of canon, and I don’t think I ever will, but I do enjoy the ship specifically in the context of that fic.

From the way I’m talking about it you’d assume that Blue Sky is primarily a romance, but it’s a lot less focused on it then you’d think it’d be. It’s primarily a character study that explores the nature of identity in a genuinely interesting way. It takes a very fanon-ey concept that was quite popular at the time it was published (wheatley becoming/being human) and dives headfirst into the philosophical and psychological implications of that idea.

I’d also be remiss not to mention the fact that it has some of the best written original side characters in all of fanfiction. Typically I find original characters in fanfiction to be particularly uninteresting (I’m reading fanfiction not regular fiction), but I love every member of the supporting cast in this story and was actually really engaged whenever one of them was the focus of a scene. Waffleswrites really took the time to make Eaden feel like an actual community that could exist.

My point is: there’s a reason this fic is so famous and I think that you should give it a read even if you’re disinterested in the ship it features. You can find it on FFN, but if you’d prefer an audiobook version Outis Audio on YouTube made a really nice podfic of it.

#anna talking about stuff #blue sky #blue sky fanfic #fanfic meta #fanfiction meta #fanfiction #portal #recommendations

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harleychick91 · 6 months

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SuperCorptober Day 22: Art

Friends To Lovers

“You seem rather perky today,” Lena grinned. “What is it?” Taking her normal seat on the couch, the businesswoman studied me. “Something good happen at work?”

Sitting, I unpacked our lunch. “Sort of. It does deal with work but not totally.” Pulling out my phone, I brought up a picture and gave my phone to Lena. “Have you heard of this new artist, Sarah Bennett? Some of her paintings are in the newest collection at the art gallery in town.”

“The one that opened last month?” A dark brow rose.

“Yes. I’ve saved a few pictures if you want to swipe through them. Beyond the woman’s name, there’s virtually zero information about her. Miss Grant wants me to find out who she is for an exclusive.”

Handing me my phone back, Lena nodded. “How do you plan to do that?”

Grinning, I shrugged. “I was hoping you knew something about her since you know people in the art world. Or maybe a lead on the type of art she does? My guess is that she orders all of the art supplies online and has them delivered so she can keep her identity secret.”

“Maybe she wants to stay hidden?” Lena offered. “Like Supergirl.”

“Possibly. If that is the case, I’d write the article without revealing too much.”

“You do have that talent,” the brunette smiled. “You always respect the person you’re interviewing and never write something they truly want to keep private.” Lena chuckled. “I’d know.”

“I do my best.” Looking back at the pictures, I chewed the inside of my cheek. “She captures her subjects in a way that’s incredible. Each detail is done with such care. With the amount of paintings in the gallery, she must have a studio somewhere in town.”

“It sounds like you have a crush on Sarah Bennett,” Lena teased. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Heat crept up my neck. “Oh, I don’t… It’s just…her art is…”

“Kara,” Lena placed a hand on my arm, “I’m joking. I’m glad you enjoy her art. If I find anything out, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” I smiled. “Now, let’s eat!”

“Yes,” the CEO laughed. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for being late again.”

Xxx

A few days passed and I still had no leads on Sarah Bennett. Sighing, I stared at the blinking cursor on my empty word document. “Kara Danvers?”

Looking up, I raised my hand. “Over here.”

“I have a delivery.” Placing an 8x10 package on my desk, the man smiled. “Sign here.” Doing as asked, he tipped his hat. “Thank you. Have a good day.”

“You too.” Carefully, I unwrapped the brown paper. A soft gasp escaped my throat when I saw myself staring back. Oh, gosh. This is gorgeous! Unfolding a note, my cheeks flushed.

To my greatest admirer. This is how I see you. -Sarah B

Placing the note down, I picked up the painting. I look beautiful in this. Whoever this woman is, she sees me in a way I don’t see myself. I have to find her.

Walking past my desk, Winn stopped. “Wow. That’s incredible. Who’s it from?”

“Sarah Bennett.” I slid the note under my arm. “I guess she found out I’m a fan of her work.”

“Does Miss Grant know yet?” The man grinned. “She’s going to freak.”

“No. It just arrived.”

“Have fun dodging her,” he murmured.

Taking my lunch break, I kept thinking about the painting. I wish I knew more about her. If I knew something, anything, maybe I could find her. Grasping at straws, I found myself in front of the art gallery. Maybe the owner knows something.

Entering the gallery, I went to the new artist section. My jaw slacked seeing a new painting. It was two women, one blonde and one brunette, sitting at a small table at a local coffee shop. That looks like me and Lena.

“Kara, you’re back.” John, the owner, came to stand beside me. “It just arrived this morning. She named it: Friends To Lovers.”

My stomach dropped. How does she know?

Finish reading on AO3 or FFN

#supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorptober2023 #supercorptober #supercorp ficlet #supergirl fandom #supergirl fanfiction #lena x kara #kara x lena

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jrob64 · 2 months

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Pet for Rent, Chapter 2/4 (The Idea)

A CS Modern AU Story

Thanks for joining me for chapter 2! Writing this story has been a bit therapeutic for me after losing my Zeke, and adopting Winston has been, too. I hope you'll stay with me for the rest of the story.

Shout out to @kmomof4 who sent Winston the ducky toy he has in the picture. His Aunt Krystal spoiled him with a welcome package the week we got him!

Thanks so much to @hookedmom. I'm lucky to have the best and most patient beta!

SUMMARY: Emma Swan tries to cheer up her heartbroken son by 'renting' a dog from the local animal shelter. When she attempts to do it a second time, she makes a mistake, and realizes the dog has been rented by someone else the same day - a very handsome man named Killian Jones.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Emma, Henry, Killian and Norman/Winston spend more time together. When Henry continues feeling sad about having to leave the dog at the animal shelter, Killian proposes an idea that might solve the problem.

RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)

WORDS: 6821

ALSO POSTED TO Ao3 and FFN

Story begins under the cut

Emma didn’t think it was possible for four hours with a stranger to pass so quickly. Sooner than she expected, Killian was looking at his phone and announcing that it was time to return Norman to the shelter. It may have been her imagination, but it sounded like there was a note of wistfulness in his voice.

Henry took control of the dog on the walk back, giving the adults an opportunity to resume the conversation that had been ongoing throughout most of their time together. Emma watched her son handling Norman as he wandered from one side of the path to the other to explore in the tall grass and she commented, “Henry is gonna sleep good tonight.”

“I don’t doubt that. He told me he had his last game of the season this morning.”

“That, in addition to playing fetch and ‘keep away’ with Norman, and all of the running around he did with you, will have him zonking out early.” They walked on a few paces, before she added, “I want to thank you, Killian, for spending so much time with him. Since he doesn’t have a father, he doesn’t get a lot of one-on-one time with a man, so I really appreciate it.”

“It was my pleasure. He’s a good listener and a fast learner.”

“Yeah, I kinda wish he had more games left, so he could apply what you taught him. I’m afraid he’ll forget it by next season. You’re wonderful at teaching, and very patient.”

“Thank you, Emma. I truly did enjoy it.”

“The youth league is always begging for people to coach. Maybe you could do that next year.”

Killian looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I could, if I’m still here.”

“Any idea where would you go if you decide to leave?”

“Not really, but it wouldn’t be terribly far away. I want to stay close to Liam.”

When the shelter came into sight, Henry turned around and dragged Norman back to Emma and Killian. “I had fun today. Can we do this again?”

“I’ll have to check our schedule to see when we’ll have another chance to rent Norman,” Emma answered.

Henry shook his head. “No, I mean with Norman and Killian.”

“Oh, uh,” Emma stammered, glancing at Killian, who was scratching behind his ear. “I don’t know about that, kid. This was just an accident and Killian was nice enough to make the best of the situation.”

“But Mom, he had fun, too, didn’t you, Killian?”

“What did I tell you about putting him on the spot?”

“Sorry, Killian,” Henry apologized. “But it did seem like you were having fun.”

Killian reached forward to ruffle the boy’s hair. “It’s quite alright, lad, and you’re right - I had a very good time with you and your mother today. And Winston, of course.”

“You mean Norman,” Emma remarked.

“He still seems more like a Winston to me. Don’t you see the resemblance between him and England’s former Prime Minister?”

Emma took in the dog’s jutting lower jaw, drooping jowls and prominent forehead, and had to admit he did share some physical traits with Winston Churchill. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do see it.”

“Anyway, at the risk of being too forward, it would be nice to have another day with you and your boy, if you’re amenable to that, Swan.”

Emma thought for a moment, then said, “Henry, why don’t you take Norman to the end of the path and give us a minute, okay?”

He started to protest, but seemed to think better of it. “Come on, Norman. Mom doesn’t want me to hear what she’s gonna say.”

Emma watched him go, her mouth agape over his comment. She heard Killian chuckle and turned to look at him.

“He’s quite a bright young man,” he laughed.

“Yeah, he’s getting too smart for his own good,” she agreed. “But he’s still a little boy and I’m a protective mom. I don’t want to promise him something that’s not going to happen, so if you’re not serious about doing this again…”

“I assure you, Emma,” he interrupted. “I wouldn’t dream of letting him down. If you’re willing to give me your contact information, I’ll send you some options and we can figure out a day that works.”

She eyed him critically for a few seconds, seeing nothing but sincerity in his expression. “I know Henry would really like that.”

“Only Henry?” he asked, quirking a brow.

She couldn’t help but smile. “I have to admit, I had a really good time today, too. So, um, to answer your question, I am, how did you say it, amenable to doing it again.”

His grin made her heart do a pleasant little flip. She made sure Henry and Norman were okay while waiting for Killian to pull out his phone and start a new contact. Once he did, he handed it to her so she could add her information.

After handing it back, they began walking again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him checking the phone screen. “It’s not a fake number, by the way,” she said.

“That’s good to know,” he returned with a smirk, while typing out a text to her so she would have his info. “Is that something you’ve done before?”

“Maybe,” she replied cryptically.

“In that case, I feel honored that you gave me the real thing.”

She giggled in response, giving him a slight nudge with her elbow as they reached the end of the path.

“What did you say, Mom?” Henry asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Killian and I are going to look at our schedules to find a day that works.”

“Yay!” Henry shouted. “How about next Saturday?”

“Calm down, kid. I told you we’re going to figure it out.”

They arrived at the shelter and Killian opened the door and held it for them. David was sitting at a desk behind the counter, tapping away at the computer keyboard. He looked up with a broad smile when they entered. “How did it go?”

“Good,” Emma replied. “Thank you for allowing us to borrow Norman for the day.”

David looked between the two adults standing before him, obviously wanting more details. “Did you…all of you…get along okay?”

“Yes we did, Dave,” Killian said smugly.

There were several seconds when all they could hear was the barking of some of the dogs in the back. Finally, David sighed. “Alright, I guess I’ll just take Norman back to his cage, then.”

“Oh, uh,” Emma said, giving Killian a wink, “one of us will be in touch to schedule another day for us…all of us…to rent Norman again.”

David’s grin told them he knew exactly what that meant.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“I hear you met my future brother-in-law,” Belle said. It was Monday, and Emma had stopped at the library to return a couple of books and choose some more before her shift at the sheriff’s station.

“News travels fast.”

“Killian always eats lunch with us after church. He told us about the mix-up at the animal shelter and said he had a great time with you and Henry.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” Emma said, moving to a shelf and studying the books more closely than necessary.

“He thinks very highly of you, too.”

Emma shot her a brief glance. “Oh, yeah? What did he say?”

“Well,” Belle began, clearly struggling to be non-chalant, “he said you were very easy to talk to and he enjoyed your sense of humor. He also said he had fun helping Henry with his soccer skills.”

“He was really good with Henry and I, um, I liked talking to him, too. He’s supposed to contact me to figure out another time to rent Norman together. Henry asked if we could.”

“I don’t suppose you protested too much, did you?”

Emma chose a book off of the shelf and studiously perused the summary on the back. “You know I want my kid to be happy.”

Belle crossed the space between them and laid her hand over the book, garnering Emma’s full attention. “To the best of my knowledge, you’ve never once introduced your son to a man you may be interested in dating in all the years I’ve known you.”

“Wait a second…first of all, I didn’t introduce him to Henry - we met accidentally, and secondly, who says I’m interested in dating him? We’re simply planning to rent Norman together again. It’s really not a big deal, Belle.”

“If you say so, but I have to tell you that I’ve never seen Killian so animated while talking about someone. You certainly made an impression on him.”

“I’m sure I did. Dressed in old sweatpants and a hoodie, no makeup, hair a complete disaster - I was a mess.”

“He didn’t mention that. He just talked about how he enjoyed the time he spent with you and how much he’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

Emma could feel her face heating and knew she must be as red as the leather jacket she was wearing. She wasn’t ready to admit that she was just as eager to see him again, too.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

That evening, Emma had just finished checking over Henry’s homework and shooed him off to the shower, when her phone dinged with an incoming text. Picking it up from the kitchen counter, she couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face upon seeing Killian’s name.

K: I’m hoping this message reaches Emma Swan. If I’ve reached someone else, you can blame it on her. It was followed by a smirking emoji.

She shook her head at his ridiculousness, and decided to play along.

E: I’m afraid you’ve been misled. This Emma Swan must be a horrible person. She added a winking emoji.

It took a few seconds for the three bubbles to pop up, then she laughed out loud when she read his reply.

K: Oh, she is a terrible, awful person to give me a fake number.

E: She’s probably not used to giving out her number to random men who just happened to rent the same dog she did.

K: That seems to be a plausible excuse. Perhaps I should forgive her.

E: Oh, you most definitely should.

K: Very well. If I’m ever fortunate enough to see her again, I shall grant her my forgiveness.

E: That’s very gentlemanly of you.

K: I’m always a gentleman.

Emma heard the clothes hamper lid slam in the bathroom, signifying that Henry was finished with his shower.

E: I need to get Henry into bed. I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so, depending on how resistant he decides to be tonight.

K: Tell him I said goodnight.

E: That will probably get him all excited and it may be longer than twenty minutes.

K: I’m willing to wait.

Emma left her phone on the sofa and went to Henry’s bedroom, where he was getting settled under the covers. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she brushed his damp bangs away from his forehead.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“You ask me that every night.”

“Yes, and half the time you’ve neglected to do it.”

“I just have to brush them again in the morning.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you, or didn’t you?”

He sighed dramatically. “I did. Wanna smell my breath to make sure?”

“Not particularly. I believe you. Ready to say your prayers?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Name three things of thanks,” she said, initiating their nightly tradition.

Henry tapped his chin in thought. “I scored two goals at recess.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, I used what Killian taught me. Oh! That’s my second thing - meeting Killian.”

“Actually, he texted me while you were in the shower.”

“He did? Did he say when we can rent Norman together again?”

“We haven't had a chance to discuss it yet. He did say to tell you goodnight.”

“Tell him I said goodnight to him, too.”

“I will. What’s your third thing?”

“Umm…we changed seats in class and now I’m sitting beside Avery.”

“Just make sure the two of you don’t get into trouble for talking too much.”

“We won’t.”

“Good. Now, what three things do you want to ask of God?”

“To help me do good on my math test tomorrow, to send me another dog, and to let us see Killian again soon.”

They both folded their hands and closed their eyes while Henry said his prayers. When he finished, Emma read him a chapter of Fantastic Mr. Fox, kissed him goodnight and left his room, turning off the light on her way out.

Picking her phone up from her couch, she scrolled through the text conversation with Killian, smiling at the light banter they shared.

E: I’m back.

When a response didn’t come through for a couple of minutes, she went to her bedroom to change into her pajamas. Then she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and applied moisturizer.

When she went back into the living room, she saw a new message on her phone.

K: Is it okay if I call you? I’m not fond of texting.

She noticed that the time stamp was right after she put her phone down, over ten minutes ago. Instead of answering, she brought up his contact and hit the call button.

“Hello, Swan.”

“Hey, sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“I was hoping I didn’t upset you by asking to call.”

“No, nothing like that. I just decided to do my nighttime routine,” Emma explained. “Henry said to tell you goodnight, by the way. I always ask him to tell me three things he’s thankful for from his day, and you were involved in two of them.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. He scored two goals playing soccer today at recess, because of what you taught him, and he was thankful for meeting you. That’s the third night in a row he’s said that one.”

“That’s very kind of him to say.”

“Well, you made quite an impression on him and he’s eager to see you again. Speaking of which, what does your schedule look like for the next few weeks?”

“It’s wide open, actually. Do Saturdays work best for you?”

“Yeah, because Henry is in school during the week and I work until five every day. I also work one Saturday a month. This coming Saturday is the one I work this month.”

“How about the following week?”

She switched him to speaker and pulled up her calendar app. “That looks good. Henry gets a haircut that morning at nine, but we could meet after that. The weather is going to start getting too cold if we wait much longer.”

“Liam has been telling me to be prepared for a cold winter. He says Maine is quite a bit colder than England during the winter months,” he stated. “Shall we make plans for that day, then?”

“Sounds good to me. Want to meet at the shelter at ten-thirty?”

“Actually,” Killian began, then paused for a few moments before clearing his throat and continuing. “I was wondering if you would agree to me picking up the two of you to go to the shelter together.”

Emma bit her lip, considering his offer. Her gut instinct was to decline because it would seem too much like a date, but her practical side said it was logical for them to make the twenty minute drive together.

She knew he was waiting for her answer and was probably having second thoughts about asking, since she was taking so long. “Um, sure, that would be fine,” she finally said. “I’ll text my address to you.”

“Okay, good. Shall we say ten o’clock? Will that give you enough time for Henry’s haircut?”

“Yeah. It only takes about twenty minutes, if that long. His barber is Jefferson and he’s pretty fast.”

“Liam recommended him and I had an appointment there a couple of weeks ago. He is fast, if a little…quirky.”

“Oh, you mean because he wears the top hat? I guess he’s trying to live up to the name of his shop.”

“Just naming his shop the Mad Hatter of Hair makes him sound a bit eccentric.”

Emma laughed. “He’s harmless, though. His daughter Grace is in Henry’s class and she’s very sweet. Jefferson is raising her by himself. His wife passed away before Grace started kindergarten.”

“How sad. Now I feel bad for judging him.”

“I wouldn’t say you were judging him, just making an accurate observation. I knew him before his wife died and he was every bit as quirky as he is now.”

They continued talking for another twenty minutes. Just like the day they met, the conversation didn’t lag at all as they transitioned easily from one subject to another. Before they ended the call, Killian asked if it would be alright to call her again later in the week and she agreed without hesitation.

Lying in bed that night, Emma smiled dreamily as she replayed their conversation in her mind. She may be venturing into self-imposed forbidden territory ever since Henry’s father abandoned her, but Killian Jones intrigued her and she couldn’t find it within herself to care.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Killian called Emma four more times over the next two weeks. Their conversations lasted longer each time, until they spent over an hour talking and laughing on Thursday, before their scheduled outing.

He suggested that they take Norman back to Storybrooke’s nature preserve after picking him up, which she thought was a great idea. She mentioned that she and Henry spent quite a bit of time there during the summer, hiking the trails and wading in the creek. Despite intending to visit, Killian hadn’t been able to get there yet and was happy to know his first time would be with Emma, Henry and Norman.

Saturday morning found him taking more time than usual to get ready. He chided himself for being a bit vain, but wanted to make the extra effort for the lovely lady Swan. If things went well, he was planning to ask her out on a proper date.

He had confided his intention to Belle, hoping she would give him advice about where to take Emma, should she agree. Not only did his future sister-in-law present him with recommendations, she also mentioned that she would be happy to watch Henry, and was sure Liam would, too.

Once Killian was satisfied with his appearance, he tried to occupy himself until it was time to drive to Emma and Henry’s house. After going online and paying some bills, washing the few dishes in the sink and sorting his laundry, he still had about twenty minutes left.

His heart sank when he heard the notification for an incoming text, thinking it might be Emma cancelling their plans. He was relieved, then a little apprehensive to see it was from his brother. Belle promised she wouldn’t say anything to Liam about his plans to ask Emma on a date, but they were an engaged couple and couples weren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. Unfortunately, his former girlfriend hadn’t abided by that rule, since she kept one whopper of a secret from him.

L: Any plans for this afternoon, little brother?

Killian dropped his head back with a sigh. Not only did Liam insist on calling him that irritating moniker, now he had to explain that he did indeed have plans. He was sure he would have to answer questions about what they were and with whom, since he rarely did anything on the weekends.

K: Actually, I do.

L: Oh, really? What are you doing?

K: I’m renting Winston from the shelter again.

L: Great! Belle is working today. Would you mind if I came over to see the little guy?

Killian’s thumbs hovered over his screen, trying to decide how to tell his brother no without sounding rude. Even though Liam was acquainted with Emma, he tended to be over protective, and Killian didn’t want him giving her the third degree or making her feel uncomfortable. Plus, he selfishly wanted to spend time alone with her and Henry.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was almost time for him to leave. Quickly, he typed a message he was hoping would appease Liam.

K: Sorry, not this time. Emma, Henry and I made plans to spend another day together with him.

As he pulled on his jacket, he heard another notification. Closing his eyes momentarily, he opened them to read Liam’s message, then released a relieved breath.

L: I hope the four of you have a good time, so I can see that look of happiness on your face again.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“Henry, Killian’s here!” Emma announced, dropping the curtain after seeing his car pull up to the curb.

“Coming!” she heard him yell in response.

She quickly ducked into the bathroom and inspected her appearance in the mirror one more time. She hoped to make a better impression on Killian by applying light makeup and pulling her hair back into a neat ponytail. Her outfit was simple - jeans, sneakers, her favorite light blue blouse, and red leather jacket.

The doorbell rang as she re-entered the living room, but before she could get to the door, Henry sped past her to pull it open. “Hey, Killian!” he said excitedly.

“Hello, lad,” Killian answered, then shifted his eyes from Henry to Emma. She saw him swallow before giving her one of his winning smiles. “Good morning, Emma.”

“Hi, Killian. You’re right on time.”

“Not being prompt is bad form, Swan.” Looking at Henry again, he stated, “Your haircut makes you look a bit older.”

Henry reached up to run both hands along the sides of his head. “Do you really think so?”

“Aye, at least a year or two.”

“Please don’t say that,” Emma said, handing Henry his jacket. “He’s growing up way too fast as it is.”

During the drive to the shelter, Henry talked about one thing after another. Emma wondered if Killian would tire of her son’s constant chatter, but his questions at regular intervals proved he was fully engaged in what Henry had to say.

Meanwhile, she spent the time admiring the man beside her. He was dressed in dark, stonewashed jeans, an army green button-down shirt, and the same black leather jacket he wore the first time they met. His scruff was neatly trimmed and his dark hair artfully combed. His rich laugh at some of Henry’s comments was a sound she was sure she would never get tired of hearing.

When they entered the shelter, David gave them a smug smile that Emma tried to ignore. She knew he was probably patting himself on the back for his matchmaking, but she really didn’t mind, because meeting Killian was, so far, a positive experience.

Norman was extremely excited to see them again, and after everyone got into the car, they were on their way back to Storybrooke. Henry was preoccupied with Norman in the back seat, so the adults finally had a chance to chat with each other. Their conversation was as free-flowing as it had been every other time they spoke in the past two weeks. Emma had never met anyone so easy to talk to, and wondered if it was because their backgrounds were so similar.

During their earlier phone conversations, she learned his father had abandoned his family when Killian and Liam were little, leaving their mother to raise them alone. She shared how she was abandoned at a fire station baby box when she was less than a week old, and had never been adopted. They both had been in situations where they were deceived and misled by the person they loved. Emma came to realize that being able to empathize with someone else made it easier to connect with them, just as she had with Killian.

The crisp autumn weather was perfect for hiking at the nature preserve. They explored all of the available paths and walked along the shores of the creek. The water was too chilly for wading, but Norman enjoyed splashing in now and then when he spotted a particularly intriguing leaf, bug or stick.

After hiking for a couple of hours, they took a break to drink Gatorade and snack on protein bars, thoughtfully packed by Killian. He also had treats for Norman, which Henry used to try and teach the dog again how to sit on command.

They stayed until the last possible minute before getting into the car for the drive back to the shelter. No one spoke for several miles, until Henry finally said, “I really wish we didn’t have to take Norman back there. He’s always so sad. Why can’t we just adopt him, Mom?”

Emma glanced over at Killian, who met her eyes for a second before directing his back to the road. “I wish we could, but it wouldn’t really be fair to Norman. We’re both gone all day and he would have to be penned up that whole time.”

“But he loves us and we love him!” Henry exclaimed. “Ernie didn’t have to be penned up and he was fine during the day.”

Emma turned to look at her son. “I know, kid, but it was easy with Ernie. He was with us for several years and was older. Norman is young and full of energy, so he’s going to need a lot more attention and training. I wouldn’t trust him being in the house all day by himself.”

Henry heaved a huge sigh. “Okay.”

They were all silent for the rest of the drive. Emma saw Killian look at her out of the corner of his eye once in a while, but they didn’t carry on a conversation. She spent the time thinking about the practicality of adopting Norman, but knew she would have to stick to her guns, because it just wouldn’t be fair to the rambunctious dog to be cooped up all day.

When they reached the shelter and exited the car, Killian slowed Emma down by placing a hand on her arm, while Henry entered the building with Norman. “Emma, I’ve been giving it some thought and I have an idea, if you’re open to it.”

She shrugged slightly. “Sure, let’s hear it.”

“Perhaps, if you adopted Win-, er, Norman, I could keep him during the day while you’re at work and school. I could pick him up in the morning before you leave and drop him off after you get home.”

“Sort of like shared custody or dog sitting?” she asked, turning to face him.

He chuckled. “Aye, something like that, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, Killian. That seems like a pretty big commitment between people who barely know each other. You’re not even sure you’re going to stay in Storybrooke.”

He scratched behind his ear. “If I move, it won’t be for a while, since I signed a six month lease on my apartment. That would give us time to train the dog. I know we’ve just met, but I…I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your boy. I’m hoping this is just the beginning of our friendship.”

Emma stuck her hands in the back pocket of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. “I hope so, too, but I’m still not sure about the arrangement you’re suggesting.”

“I completely understand,” he said, then paused before asking, “Are you counting it out altogether, or will you consider it?”

She pulled her lip between her teeth in thought for a few seconds. “I’ll consider it,” she finally answered.

He gave her a small smile, then moved to open the door for her.

They went inside to see Henry sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman, the dog’s head resting on his leg. David was listening to the boy give him a detailed description of their day at the nature preserve and looked up to give them a big grin. “Sounds like you had quite the adventure today.”

“Aye, we all had quite a workout,” Killian responded. “It’s quite a lovely place.”

“Yeah, we’re lucky to have it in Storybrooke,” David said. “Mary Margaret takes her class there on a field trip every year.”

Henry’s head whipped around. “Mrs. Nolan didn’t take our class!”

“It’s early in the school year,” Emma said. “I’m sure she’ll take you sometime.”

“They usually go in the spring,” David explained, as he walked around the end of the counter. “Are you ready for me to take Norman?”

“No,” Henry said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the dog’s neck.

The three adults exchanged understanding looks. They gave the boy a couple more minutes, before Emma picked up the end of the leash and put her hand on Henry’s head. “It’s time to say goodbye to him, kid.”

Henry drew back to look at Norman. “Goodbye, boy. I’m gonna miss you.” He kissed the dog on top of the head and rubbed his ears.

Emma reached down to pet the dog, then handed the leash to David. Killian stood beside her to pat Norman, too, telling him to be a good boy.

David bid them all goodbye, then headed to the back with the dog reluctantly following him. Henry looked up at Emma from where he still sat on the floor. “Mom…”

“Henry, don’t say it. I already told you why it’s not a good idea to adopt him right now.”

“Right now? Does that mean we can adopt him later?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Emma replied, giving him her patented ‘don’t push it’ look. “Let’s go, kid.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Henry pushed himself to his feet and followed her out the door Killian was holding open. Once they were in the car and on their way to Storybrooke, Killian asked, “Would you, um, would the two of you like to get a late lunch at Granny’s, when we get back?”

“What do you think, Henry?” Emma threw over her shoulder.

He turned from where he had been glumly staring out the window. “Can I get a cheeseburger and fries?”

“Sure.”

“And a chocolate milkshake?” When his mom didn’t answer immediately, he added, “Please? It’ll make me less sad about Norman.”

Killian chuckled lowly as Emma rolled her eyes, muttering, “I’m raising a con artist.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Killian mentally kicked himself the whole way back into town. What was he thinking, asking Emma to agree to what was basically a long term commitment? He probably ruined his chance for asking her out on a date, too. He was sure she would think he was coming on too strong, if he did.

At least she agreed to have lunch with him. Hopefully, she would also allow him to continue calling her. Those phone calls and the texts they shared were always the highlight of his week.

As much as he enjoyed his time with Emma, having Henry with them made it even better. Killian hadn’t had a lot of interaction with children, but it was easy being around Emma’s son. He was bright, articulate and funny - very much like his mother. He was also respectful and well-mannered.

On the day they met, Emma confided to him that she was afraid she was making a lot of mistakes as a single mom, who never had a mother of her own to set an example, but he strongly disagreed. She wasn’t perfect - no parent was, but Henry seemed to be well-adjusted and confident, so she was obviously doing many things right.

Killian saw how much Henry loved the dog and wished he could help make the boy’s desire to adopt him come true, which is why he made the offer. He had come to love the furry little rascal, too, and would seriously consider adopting Norman himself. He just didn’t know if he could take the dog with him if he decided to move away from Storybrooke.

He pulled up in front of Granny’s, cut the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, as he heard Emma and Henry do the same. Typical of a young boy, Henry took off running and was already skipping up the steps to the front door by the time Killian reached Emma’s side.

“He’s pretty excited,” Emma explained. “Eating out is kind of a treat because we don’t do it very often.”

“I hope I wasn’t out of line for asking,” Killian said.

“No, not at all. It really perked him up.”

Killian halted at the bottom of the steps, causing Emma to stop and look at him. “I also hope I didn’t upset you by making the offer to watch Norman.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him. “I’m definitely going to think about it. I really miss having a dog around, too. I just have to weigh all the pros and cons.”

He smiled and nodded his understanding, then bounded up the steps to open the door. Henry was at the counter talking animatedly to Ruby, who looked up and gaped at Emma in surprise.

“Hey, girl! I didn’t realize you knew the very handsome new guy in town!”

Killian could feel his ears turning red, when Emma glanced at him before replying. “Hi, Ruby. Actually, we met by accident a couple of weeks ago.”

“By accident, huh? Did you hit him with your car or something?”

“Nothing like that. We were both renting the same dog at the animal shelter.”

“Was seeing him today another accident?”

Emma put her hands on her hips. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. It was planned this time.”

Killian wasn’t sure he had ever seen such a wide grin on the waitress’s face. They all gave Ruby their drink order, then Emma ushered Henry to a booth and Killian slid in across from them.

“Are you getting lasagna?” she asked.

“I think I’m going to try the grilled cheese and onion rings. Someone recommended them to me,” he smirked.

“Very intelligent person,” Emma grinned.

“Aye, that she is.”

Ruby arrived at their table with their drinks and Henry’s milkshake. She gave Emma and Killian another broad smile when she took down their identical orders. “His and hers grilled cheeses, huh? Maybe there’s some truth to the saying that couples begin to eat alike.”

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. “I think the saying is that couples start to look alike, and we aren’t a couple. We’re just friends.”

“I see,” Ruby said, glancing at Henry, who was busy spooning the thick milkshake into his mouth. “Well, they do say there are benefits to being friends.” She gave them an exaggerated wink, then turned and made her way to the kitchen.

“Ruby isn’t exactly the epitome of subtlety,” Emma said, a blush filling her cheeks with color.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“It was nice of Killian to take us to Granny’s today,” Henry said, as he was climbing into bed that night.

“Yes, it was. I was very proud of you for remembering to thank him without needing a reminder.”

“Thanks for letting me get a milkshake, even if it didn’t make me stop feeling sad about not being able to adopt Norman.”

Emma tucked the covers around his shoulders. “I know, but try not to think about it.”

“I can’t,” Henry pouted. “He’s probably crying himself to sleep tonight.”

“I think he’s probably going to sleep remembering all of the fun we had today.”

Henry stubbornly shook his head. “Nuh-uh. He’s wondering why we didn’t bring him home with us.”

“Henry,” Emma sighed, “I know you’re sad, but we just can’t…”

“I know,” he interrupted, “you keep saying it wouldn’t be fair for him to be alone all day, but he’s already alone at the shelter all day, except for Mr. Nolan, and at night, there’s nobody there at all.”

“There’s other dogs and cats…”

“That’s not the same. They’re all in cages by themselves. If we adopted him, he could sleep on my bed, like Ernie did.”

Knowing she was going around in circles with him, Emma reached over and picked up the book from his nightstand. “How about if you say your prayers after I read to you tonight?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, he said, “Fine, but it’s not gonna make me forget about Norman.”

After reading to him for fifteen minutes, hearing his prayers - which mentioned Norman and Killian several times - and kissing him goodnight, she left his room. Heading into her own bedroom, she went through her nightly routine automatically, lost in thought.

Once she was in her pajamas, free of make-up and teeth brushed, she peeked in on her son to find him sound asleep. She made sure the front door was deadbolted, turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room and went back into her room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared at the phone in her hand, mind racing.

Finally, she pulled up Killian’s contact and hit the call button.

She was almost ready to hang up after it rang four times, not wanting it to go to voicemail, when he answered. “Hello, Swan. I wasn’t expecting to talk to you again so soon.”

“I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“Not at all. What’s on your mind?”

“Henry was still upset about Norman before he went to sleep. I feel like I’m being selfish by not allowing him to get a dog.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“Because one of my excuses is that a dog is a lot of work and would need training, which it would. I’m making it seem like all the work would fall on me. Now, I know Henry is only eight, but I think he’s pretty responsible for his age.”

“From what I’ve seen, I would agree with that,” Killian cut in.

“Thank you. Anyway, I think he would be able to help train and take care of the dog, so that excuse is out the window. The other big concern I had is that the dog would have to be home by himself all day, which brings me to the reason I’m calling. I’ve been seriously considering your offer, if it’s still on the table.”

“It is.”

“Are you sure that’s not asking too much of you? I mean, you’re home during the day, but you’re working. How would you be able to take care of him?”

“I’ve had him here with me a few times already and he makes himself right at home. He’s housebroken and doesn’t demand too much attention. If he starts getting restless, I take him outside and play with him for a while. That works with my schedule because I have to take breaks now and then, when I’ve been staring at the computer screen for too long.”

She blew out a long breath. “What if it turns out to be too big of a commitment? We’ve spent some time together and have done a lot of talking to get to know each other, but we’re still basically strangers.”

“Well actually…” Killian began, then paused for several moments before continuing, “I was hoping to have an opportunity to ask you something today, but the right moment never presented itself.”

Emma’s heart began to beat faster in anticipation of what she suspected he might ask. “What did you want to ask?”

“Would you, um…would you consider going out with me?”

Standing up to pace back and forth between her bed and dresser, she chewed her lip in contemplation. She could literally count how many dates she’d had since Henry’s birth on one hand. She only went on those dates to appease Ruby, who was convinced Emma’s Mr. Right was out there somewhere, but she hadn’t been attracted to any of the men.

She couldn’t say the same about Killian. From the time she laid eyes on him, she felt an attraction that only got stronger the more she got to know him. He seemed to be the total package - kind, intelligent, considerate, and insanely hot.

“What happens if we adopt Norman, then go out with each other and realize we’re not compatible?”

“If you adopt him, I would keep my commitment to help take care of him, even if we decide dating doesn’t work for us. You have my word, Emma.”

She came to a halt at the end of her bed and turned to face the mirror above her dresser. For eight years, Henry had been her number one priority and always would be, but maybe it was time for her to do something for herself. Could that something be going out with Killian Jones?

She was so deep in thought, she didn’t realize how long she had been standing there considering her answer. When Killian finally spoke, his quiet voice startled her. “What do you say, Swan?”

“Yes, Killian. I will go out with you.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

NEW TAG LIST:

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#pet for rent #chapter update #chapter 2 #jrob64 #art by jrob64 #csff #cs fluff #cs smut #CS modern AU #Captain cobra #ouat Captain Swan fanfic

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friendly-neighborhood-imbecille · 10 months

Text

Crushing an egg

4k words, some description of gore, will be crossposted to ao3 and ffn

When William Edward Lancer first started teaching at Casper High, he knew there was a risk of danger. It’s a horrible thing to think about, but there was a very real chance of an intruder, or even one of his students bringing a weapon with the intention to harm the other students. But never back then, had he thought the risk of harm to his students would be this large.

Ever since the ghosts started appearing, the school had been subject to constant attacks. And now, the severity of the attacks had been steadily increasing. At first, it had just been pairs of humanoid ghosts, who were mostly uninterested in harming humans, using the school as their battleground. Then, every once in a while, the occasional low to mid-powered animal ghost would attack. But recently, more and more mid to high-powered animal ghosts had been seen rampaging the halls of Casper High. Trampling anyone in their path and blindly attacking anyone they deemed a threat, obstacle, or annoyance.

Two students had already been hospitalized due to injuries received during one of these attacks. There was talk of installing a permanent ghost shield, replacing the temporary one already installed. Although it would use far more power than the school district could ever afford.

At the moment, the best they could do was hope for the attacks to stop, and be ready for when they inevitably didn’t.

“Now, it’s important to view the story from all angles. It’s easy to understand the protagonist’s point of view, but what about the antagonist? Now, Nag and Nagaina planned to attack the family for the same reason Rikki destroyed their eggs: fear. Why do you think their actions were viewed as evil, while Rikki’s actions were viewed as good?”

The class was silent. Some students stared blankly at his face, some out the windows, others at the clock behind him, counting down the minutes til the class ended.

Edward sighed. “You don’t have to answer, I just want you all to really think about it.” He waited a couple seconds before moving on. “This story was written about a hundred years ago, but it can still relate-” He heard a sharp gasp and stopped in the middle of his sentence. Daniel Fenton was frantically scanning the classroom, as if he was searching for danger.

“Mr. Fenton, are you alright?”

His head snapped forward, and he visibly forced himself to relax. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine, but I really have to go.” He started anxiously tapping his fingers against his arm. “I, uh, forgot the, the, the book in my locker.”

Edward looked to Daniel’s bag, trying to read the text on the book barely poking out. “I thought I saw the textbook on your desk a minute ago?”

Daniel reached over and zipped the bag closed. “Yeah, that was the science book. I grabbed the wrong one. They both say Pearson on the front, so I mixed them up. I’ll be quick, like, five minutes tops.” He started tapping his foot and quickly glancing between Edward and the door. Though it was very possible that Daniel had indeed grabbed the wrong book, he doubted it. But there was no use fighting against this. Even if he said no, Daniel would keep pestering him until he inevitably walked out without permission.

Edward sighed and ran his hand down his face before relenting. “Alright, please be quick.”

“I will, thank you.” Daniel grinned sheepishly and grabbed his bag before running out.

Edward scanned the room. It didn’t look like much had changed, but he attempted to engage the class anyway. “So, how does the conflict between the animals in this story mirror the conflicts we see in our modern day human society?” Surprisingly, he saw a hand slowly raise to answer the question.

“Yes Kwan?”

The boy looked towards his friend, Dashiel Baxter, as if waiting for something. Mr. Baxter waved his hand in a ‘go on’ gesture, and Kwan began to speak. “Well, the snake and the mongoose are at each other’s throats. The snakes are dangerous to the humans, so the mongoose wants to kill them. But then he kills, uh, breaks the eggs, which haven’t done anything wrong. Like, they had potential to be dangerous like the other snakes, but they were completely innocent. So I guess it’s sort of like-” Before he finished his sentence he was cut off by a loud blaring alarm.

“Attention all students and staff, a level 7 animalistic ghost has entered the building. All students and staff are to evacuate immediately.”

The class was panicking. Students were grabbing their bags and crowding to the door, knocking down desks and tables, and pushing others down to get to the front.

Level seven was high. So far, the detection system had only alerted to a few level sevens, all of which were humanoid. A ghost with that much power could easily kill a student. And with it being animalistic, it wouldn’t likely think to avoid doing so.

“Okay everybody please line up single file, stay calm, don’t push or shove, and stay together.” Edward tried to take control of the situation, but the students’ fear far outweighed their reasoning. He followed them out the door, helping up students that had been pushed down, and tried to move to the front of the group. Luckily, his classroom wasn’t far from the nearest exit. It wasn’t long before they were all safely hidden underneath the bleachers next to the football field, along with several other classes taking refuge there from the danger.

He took a second to catch his breath before counting his students. None of them were absent that day, so he shouldn’t have been missing any. He counted one short. He recounted and got the same result. He went down the list alphabetically and stopped once he got to the Fs.

“Where’s Daniel?”

The class fell silent. Some students began to search nearby crowds for their classmate, and Elena, one of his more observant students, stepped forward. “He, he left to get a textbook, remember?” She stuttered out.

Edward froze. His head started to heat up and it felt like a rat was frantically trying to claw its way out through his chest. He grabbed his walkie-talkie and brought it up to his mouth. “I’m missing a student, does anyone have Daniel Fenton with their class?”

A couple seconds went by. He didn’t move, he didn’t breathe, he didn’t even think. He just listened and stared back at the school building, as if willing his student to suddenly burst through the doors and run towards them. The shield started to materialize around the building, trapping whatever ghost that was there inside. Every class had already made it out.

The walkie-talkie buzzed to life and emitted the one sentence he was dreading to hear.

“Nobody’s seen him.”

His stomach dropped. All of the students knew to stay with a group, any group, when there was an attack. The only reason a student would be completely missing is if they were cornered by the attacker, which could only mean one thing. “Gone with the Wind, he’s still in there.”

The Fentons were fast, but even they would need time to gather supplies and get to the location of the attack. And by then it might be too late. Daniel Fenton was not an athletic child, he didn’t stand a chance against whatever was in there with him.

“Star, you’re in charge. I want you to bring the class over to Mr. Falluca. Tell him the situation and don’t let anyone separate from the group. I’m going back inside.”

Star reached over and grabbed Paulina’s hand before nodding. “Okay.”

Edward looked towards the school, gathered his breath, and ran. He ignored the confused and concerned shouts of the students and staff, he ignored the burning sensation in his legs, he ignored the fear rising up from the pits of his stomach and the back of his throat. He needed to do this. His student needed him.

He passed through the shield, feeling nothing but a slight buzz as he went through, and threw himself through the doors before stilling and holding his breath. He needed to be smart about this. He couldn’t just launch himself into danger, that wouldn’t fix anything. He needed to be calm, careful, and quiet.

He slinked through the halls, careful to not make a sound, and searched through every unlocked classroom he walked by. He could hear shrill squealing from every possible direction, but it was the ceiling that shook and shuddered. The ghost was above him.

He hastened his movements, whisper-calling his student’s name into the doorway of every room, hoping to find him before he himself was discovered. No one answered. He went to the basement floors, raising his voice slightly, and running from room to room. Nothing. Maybe Daniel had found his way out of the building and away from the threat. Maybe he was putting himself in danger for nothing. He grabbed his walkie-talkie and raised it to his mouth once again.

“Does anyone have Daniel Fenton with them?”

He heard loud booms and crashes from above, followed by shouts and animalistic screeching. The shouting sounded human, the voice was masculine and young sounding.

The walkie-talkie buzzed. “None of us have him.”

He knew where Daniel was.

He ran to the stairs and scaled them as fast as he could, not caring whether or not he made noise. If he did, it would certainly be masked by the squeals and screeching of the ghost above him.

He tripped halfway up the second flight, but continued scrambling his way up. He couldn’t waste any time, his student was in danger.

He made it to the top of the stairs and looked down the hallway. It was completely still, silent. If it weren’t for the cracked floor tiles and walls he could almost pretend there hadn’t been a ghost here at all. It felt wrong, but he couldn’t dwell on that. He had to find his student.

He ran into an empty classroom and searched, but found nothing. He peered out the door but saw no sign of the ghost. He ran to search the next classroom, ignoring the trail of glowing green beneath his feet. Empty, just like the last one.

What if he was too late? Daniel was by no means a particularly strong or brave child. The boy was terrified of ghosts and would likely be too overwhelmed with fear to try to think of an escape route if cornered.

He searched the next classroom, still no sign of the boy. Suddenly the animal ghost burst through the walls of the classroom, barreling towards him and roaring with anger. He scrambled to hide behind one of the tables that had been knocked over and braced for impact, but it never came.

He heard an ear-splitting screech of pain followed by a large thud and the scraping of hooves against tile. The scraping gradually faded off and Edward was left alone again.

He took in a deep breath and quickly began to hyperventilate. He could have been killed. God, he nearly was killed. Maybe he was the wrong person to do this. Maybe he should leave and let the Fentons handle this when they arrived. Maybe he should just hide and hope he isn’t discovered.

But if he did that, what would happen to Daniel? As a teacher he had two main responsibilities, to educate his students, and to protect them. To protect them even if that meant sacrificing his own life to save theirs.

Daniel was his student, and he wasn’t going to sit back and let his student die.

Edward stood up and left the classroom to continue his search. He sped from room to room, trying to ignore the furious screeches threatening to split his skull open, trying not to think about what might happen to him if he was caught by the beast emitting them, trying not to think about what would happen if Daniel was caught.

Distressing images flashed through his head. Images of his student, abdomen ripped open and organs spilling out, mouth open, eyes vacant and clouded over. Worse, head crushed underneath hooves, skull fragments and teeth scattered across the floor, a leg detached from the rest of his body, being gnawed on by the beast as if it were a dog’s chew toy. He shook his head and tried to get rid of them, but they refused to leave.

Thrown down a flight of stairs, neck broken and skull cracked from the impact. Head bitten off by powerful jaws. Pierced through the stomach and left to slowly bleed out. Eaten alive, still thrashing and screaming, begging to be let go-

He heard the yelling again, Daniel wasn’t dead yet. If he followed the sound, he would find Daniel. And if he found Daniel, he’d be able to help him escape. He ran down the stairs and sprinted to the west side of the school, the shouts growing louder and louder, and the inhuman screeching growing along with them. He forced himself to ignore the screeches, he needed to protect his student, he couldn’t run away from danger this time. But right as he reached the source of the screaming, he froze.

The ghost, a ginormous and terrifying boar with tusks sharp as daggers protruding from its jaws and a single spiral horn erupting from its forehead, and a small body pinned to the wall, pierced through the middle by its horn.

The screams hadn’t been coming from his student.

It had been another ghost.

The phantom.

He shouldn’t get involved. He should just leave. This was a dangerous situation. He needed to leave and find Daniel. But one glance at the smaller ghost’s eyes and he couldn’t. His hands were shaking, his heart was accelerating, his breathing was getting faster and faster. He grabbed the legs of a desk and, with a strength he didn’t know he had, struck the boar in the face with it.

The boar screamed and fell to the ground, releasing the boy from its hold. It attempted to stand back up, but Edward struck it again and again. His arms felt like they could fall off, but he continued to strike the boar. His legs felt like they could no longer support his weight, but he continued to strike the boar. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think, but he continued to strike the boar. It wasn’t until his legs gave out and his arms refused to move the desk again that he realized that the boar wasn’t going to get up.

He knelt there, staring at the creature, breathing heavily and trying to understand what had just happened. The horn was broken off of its head and into two pieces, the core of it glowing green and sparking, yet gradually dimming as the seconds passed. The face was caved in, and there was ectoplasm everywhere. Had he really done that? The boar began to melt and bubble away, slowly simmering into nothingness.

“Are you alright?” Edward snapped his head towards the source of the question and winced when his eyes met the large wound in the phantom’s abdomen. It was gushing out ectoplasm and he could even see some of the boy’s organs inside.

“Shouldn't I be asking you that?” Edward replied. “Do you need help? I could get you a first aid kit if you’d like.”

The phantom’s face scrunched up in thought. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be outside with everyone else? There was an evacuation, wasn't there?”

Edward jumped as he remembered what he was doing before. “I’m missing a student. He didn’t evacuate with all the others and I-”

“Daniel Fenton?” Phantom offered, then flinched slightly, as if he regretted saying anything.

“Yes. How did you know?” Edward looked at him curiously.

“I,” Phantom looked around the room, seemingly hesitant to give up the answer. “I helped him get out.”

Edward let out a relieved breath. “So he’s safe?”

Phantom looked down at his wound and paused before speaking. “Yes. he’s safe.”

It felt like a large weight was lifted off his shoulders. His student was alive. He looked back to the wound in Phantom’s abdomen and winced. “I’m going to go find a first aid kit so I can help fix your wounds. Don’t move from this spot, I’ll be right back.”

He ran out of the room and down the hall, quickly losing his breath. Now that the threat of imminent danger was gone, it seemed that his limits had been put back in place. He slowed to a halt and leaned against the wall next to him to catch his breath. He would have to walk.

He was almost to the nurse’s office when he began to hear hushed voices.

“...ectoplasmic readings…faded gradually… cut off like usual…could mean…not sure…”

He crept closer to the source of the sound, careful to not be heard, before realizing there was no danger in being observed. He began to walk normally, yet still relatively quietly towards the source of the sound, feeling rather silly for his earlier actions.

The voices soon became clear as he came closer, and before too long, he could see the familiar orange and teal jumpsuits of Jack and Madeline Fenton. “...knew we should have brought the tracker.”

“There’s still an ecto-signature in the building. He has to be around here somewhere.”

Edward cleared his throat, causing the other two to jump and face him. “Drs. Fenton, might I ask what exactly you are doing here?”

Jack and Madeline both jumped before turning to face him, Jack looking confused and Madeline with a smile on her face. It was a sweet smile on the surface, he had seen this smile a million times on a million different faces. But rather than feeling warm and inviting like it usually would, it felt cold, condescending. He felt insignificant under her gaze. “Oh, Mr. Lancer, we were alerted to an attack here. We just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

Edward steeled himself and forced his emotions to remain hidden from her dissecting gaze. “And I do appreciate that. But, I do believe that the attack is over now. Am I correct?”

Her smile strained a bit, but she was quick to cover it up. “Yes, that ghost boy must have captured it. And we’ll be out of your hair as soon as we have him” Madeline attempted to step past him, but Edward moved to block her. Edward started to feel his temper slip and by the looks of things, the same could be said for both Jack and Maddie.

Edward crossed his arms and let out a breath to attempt to calm himself down. “I see, and is this ghost boy an immediate threat to the safety and wellbeing of the students?”

“No, but he’s up to something,” Jack answered with fake enthusiasm. He was grinning from ear to ear, but somehow it seemed more like a baring of teeth. “We just know it. We need to capture and interrogate him, maybe do a bit of ripping apart if we can, and figure out what he’s up to, right Madds?”

“Exactly. We’re so close to figuring this out, and now we have him cornered. This might be our only chance for months. So if you would please excuse us-” She forcefully pushed Edward out of the way and along with her husband, began to march down the hall towards the room where he had left Phantom in.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, I-”

Madeline turned her head to face him, the same perfectly condescending smile on her face. “Doctor Fenton.” She corrected.

“I’ll call you whatever I damn well please.” Edward nearly shouted. Every shred of subtlety was stripped from his demeanor. The pair froze in their steps and whipped around to face him. “The agreement here was that you lend aid when needed. That you help when a ghost attack threatens the lives of our students and staff and leave when the threat has passed. The agreement was not that you use this school as a trap to corner and shoot down children based on a hunch. You have no authority here, the only reason you are able to hunt the ghosts that attack here is because we allow you.”

Madeline’s entire face turned red with fury while Jack stared down to the ground, barely suppressed rage clear on his face. Madeline marched forward towards Edward and spat out her retort like venom on her tongue.

“The reason we are able to hunt the ghosts who attack here is because we are the world's leading experts in ectoplasmic behaviour, biology, and most importantly for this case, extermination. It is not just a hunch. You’ve seen firsthand what he’s capable of and yet, he still has you fooled. Though with what I’ve seen of your intelligence, that shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. That thing is extremely dangerous and could turn on us at any moment. Can’t you see, he’s using all of us for his sick-”

“That’s enough.” Edward cut her off, face deliberately cold and expressionless. He looked down at her with the intent to instill the same feeling of insignificance she gave him earlier.

She stomped her foot, seeming like a stick of dynamite with a fire almost to the base of the fuse. “No, I don’t want to hear any of your-”

“Please exit the building. If you don’t in the next five minutes I will contact the authorities. The same goes for if I see you lurking in the parking lot or circling the building.”

And just like that, the flame sputtered before finally going out. She glared at him with a look that could break the bravest of men, turned around, and marched towards the entrance, followed shortly behind by her husband.

He watched as they passed through the door, entered their abomination of a vehicle, and left before he let out a relieved breath of air. If it were up to him, those two wouldn’t be allowed to enter school grounds, ghost attack or not. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. He continued on his way to the nurse’s office, grabbed a roll of gauze, disinfectant, and whatever else seemed useful, and made his way back to the classroom he left the phantom in.

He just couldn’t understand some people. Yes, it was good to be cautious, but never to this extent. To attack a child for a crime you have no proof he will commit, it was the coward’s way out. There had only been two instances where the phantom had been reported doing anything immoral, and both had been proven to be falsely incriminating. The Fenton’s had even confirmed this, however reluctantly they were to do so. It was extremely unjust, not to mention selfish, to attack Amity Park’s greatest ghost defence on nothing but baseless accusations and prejudice.

Edward forced himself to calm down. There was no use in getting so upset, especially now that the cause of the frustration had left. He reached the door of the room he had left Phantom in, took a deep breath, and opened it.

Phantom was nowhere to be seen.

He stood there for a minute, frozen, unsure what to do, before calmly looking around the room for the missing ghost. All he found in his search however was a sheet of notebook paper, torn at the edge with just two words written on it.

Thank you.

He supposed he should have expected this. After all, he had never heard of anyone before ever getting that close to the phantom without capturing him first. It would make sense that he would flee to take care of his own wounds rather than stay to accept help.

He left the medical supplies in the room. Just in case.

#Danny Phantom #mr lancer #fic #my writing #tw gore #danny fenton

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foreteller-ava · 9 months

Text

Flying Free

AO3 | FFN

Summary: NiGHTS has finally escaped Wizeman's grasp. Now they just need to find somewhere to stay.

A/N: Written for the NiGHTS: Journey of Dreams 15th Anniversary Fanzine.

NiGHTS approached the fountain in the middle of the forest, unable to stop themself from looking over their shoulder for signs that they were followed.

Running away from Reala, from Wizeman, from everything and everyone they had ever known, it had been something even just weeks ago they’d have never been able to imagine. It hurt of course, running from your family always would. But without the pressure to steal Ideya, to terrorize the children who found their way in the realm of Nightmare, they felt an unfamiliar lightness in their heart. They felt free.

A laugh bubbled up from within NiGHTS as they began looping in the sky, reveling in the feeling of joy for the first time since they’d been given their task. “I never have to go back.”

“Well, I hope that means you’re not making your home here then.” The sound of a voice behind them stopped NiGHTS’s victory celebration. They turned around, seeing an unfamiliar brown owl. He was an odd sight, nothing like the denizens of Nightmare that they had spent their entire life with. “Nightmarens aren’t welcome on this side of the world of dreams.”

NiGHTS flew down towards the owl, getting close to his face as they examined him with interest. “What is the meaning of this!?” the owl asked, flapping his wings in front of him to move backwards so as to put some space between himself and them.

NiGHTS pulled back. “Sorry, I’ve just never seen anything like you before.”

The owl frowned, but seemed relieved that NiGHTS pulled back. “Let’s hope you don’t, your presence here is a danger to all the Nightopians who call this place home.”

NiGHTS didn’t think they were a danger; they were pretty sure their decision to betray Wizeman would’ve made that clear. Then again, the owl probably didn’t realize that. “I’m NiGHTS. What about you?”

“What?” the owl seemed taken aback, so NiGHTS tried again.

“Your name, if we’re going to become friends, it’s only right that I have something to call you, right?” They stuck out their hand, hoping the owl might take it as a peace offering, and a step towards friendship.

Instead, the owl was incensed. “I don’t know what game you’re trying to play, Nightmaren, but it won’t work on me. I won’t let you try anything foolish.”

“I’m not trying to play anything.” NiGHTS insisted. “I’m really not here to hurt anybody. I don’t understand why you can’t believe that.”

“Why I can’t believe that?” the owl scoffed. “I’ve seen hundreds of visitors come here, their Ideya stolen from them by Nightmarens who love nothing more than to terrorize the Nightopians who try to find a safe haven here. Why should I believe you when you say you’re different, when you wear the mask that marks you as one of Wizeman’s goons.”

NiGHTS stopped, unsure what to say of that as they reached towards their face, feeling the heavy weight of the mask. They had forgotten all about their Persona in their desperation to escape, but now that they heard the owl point it out, they understood his wariness. There was no reason for him to believe that they were any different from any other Nightmaren when they still wore the pledge to their former master on their face.

They grabbed the corners of the Persona, gently removing it as they looked at the ornate golden design. Their fingers lightly traced around the large red gem in the center. This mask had defined their identity for so long, and now they were considering getting rid of it after so long. “I had forgotten I was wearing it, I didn’t mean to cause you any worries.”

“You forgot?” The owl remained skeptical, but NiGHTS was not one to be deterred.

They nodded in response. “I was trying to escape from them.”

“Why would a first level Nightmaren be trying to escape from other Nightmarens?”

So their true nature wasn’t as easily hidden as they’d assumed, that was good to know. “Because I don’t want to chase down Visitors for their Ideya anymore. We can’t help what we’re created as, but that doesn’t mean it has to define our actions.” NiGHTS was a Nightmaren, created by Wizeman, but it didn’t mean they had to steal Ideya, not if they didn’t want to. Not if it wasn’t who they wanted to be. “I was tired of hurting people, so I decided to leave.”

“Wizeman doesn’t take betrayal lightly,” the owl noted. “You’ll never be able to return to the life you once had.”

“I know. I knew the moment I left that things wouldn’t be the same.” They could still picture Reala’s expression as they’d told him that they were planning on leaving, that they couldn’t stand stealing Ideya and being under Wizeman’s thumb. They could still feel the chains that Wizeman had tried to throw them in when they’d left, the phantoms of shackles they’d only just managed to avoid.

Wizeman would never let them be free if he had anything to say about it, and they weren’t about to let him take them back either.

They looked at the owl, remembering their determination to escape. “But I would rather be on the run the rest of my life than spend another day as Wizeman’s tool.”

The owl finally relaxed, their conviction convincing him of their intentions at long last. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Does that mean I can stay?” NiGHTS asked, perking up.

The owl chuckled. “Against my better judgment, yes. The Dream Gate is perhaps the only place that Wizeman and his Nightmarens have yet to truly ever invade. It might be the only place that you’ll ever be safe.”

NiGHTS doubted that, but said nothing, choosing to go along with it if it meant the owl was comfortable with their presence. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“I would expect nothing less. One action against the Nightopians who spend their time here, or the visitors for that matter, and I’ll be sure that you never set foot here again.”

NiGHTS smiled. That would be an easy task, they were tired of hurting others, and had no intention to do so again. “I’ll even help you protect them.”

“When another visitor comes through, I’ll hold you to that.” The owl extended a wing. “I believe you asked for my name earlier. It’s Owl.”

“Owl.” NiGHTS grabbed Owl’s wing and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, Owl.”

Owl ended the handshake first with a hoot. “Now, NiGHTS, was it? If you want to settle in at the Dream Gate, you’d best follow along. There’s not a lot to see, but it’s important that when a Visitor arrives, you don’t get lost. Not if you’re going to help them.”

“I’ve got it!” NiGHTS held back a laugh. They would try their best to make a good impression on any Visitors that showed up, but it was still odd. A Nightmaren doing their best to avoid scaring the Visitors they’d meet while trying to impress them, what a novelty.

A Nightmaren defecting from Wizeman. That was a novelty as well.

“Oh, and one more thing. I’d get rid of that mask as well. Anything that marks you as one of Wizeman’s soldiers would never go over well among the Nightopians. Not if you want them to stop fearing you.”

“Right, of course.” NiGHTS looked at the Persona in their hand. It would be easy to just throw it away, to pretend that they had never been a part of Wizeman’s army, to give up that final part tying them to their past.

But that was the problem, in a way. It wasn’t just a mask tying them to Wizeman, it was a mask tying them to the other Nightmarens, to the ones they had considered friends and family, like Jackle and Reala. Getting rid of it would acknowledge that there would be no going back, though they weren’t sure there would be an option to go back regardless. Even if Reala managed to help them escape punishment, there was only one path left for NiGHTS: the one that would allow for Wizeman’s defeat at once, to free the Night Dimension and all Visitors from his grasp.

That was something to contend with another day. They returned the mask to their pocket and smiled. “Sorry for the hold up, let’s go!”

One day, NiGHTS would be willing to give up their Persona for good, to separate themself once and for all.

But for now, that didn’t matter.

Right now, they’d made their first non-Nightmaren friend, and for once, their future looked bright.

#nights #nights journey of dreams #Owl (NiGHTS)#Heather Writes

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bibliophilea · 1 year

Text

tension (release)

Written for the @dpauzine. Special thanks to all the mods for working with me to get this story in the zine on time, and to @ecto-american in particular for being an excellent beta!

And thank you, SleepySpacey, for illustrating this work! All images here belong to SleepySpacey on twitter, deviantArt, and tumbl!

Contains: TUE Farmboy AU, Grief/Mourning, Alicia POV, Alicia and Danny bonding, Danny being a bit of a cryptid, Flynn mention

ao3 | ffn

“I’m not okay! I will never be okay!”

The outburst is sudden. Explosive. Like the kid’s been holding it in for far too long. Alicia has known this was coming — saw it in the tension in the boy’s shoulders, in the redness of his eyes, in the way he never smiled and never cried and was always terse around her — and yet. And yet. She is not prepared for it.

“You — you don’t get it! You’re strong, and you’re tough, and I’m — I’m not, I’m just not, okay?!” His voice cracks, but the floodgates are open now. Alicia doesn’t think he can stop, even if he wants to. “You’re fine, ‘cause you’re you, and you’re always fine! I can’t — I can’t do that, okay?!”

He glares at her, and oh, he looks just like Maddie. When their momma died, Alicia needed to be strong enough for the both of them, strong enough to carry them through, and Maddie, she cried and cried, but she got angry, and she glared so hard, too hard and too old and it broke Alicia’s heart to see it. Maddie bellowed — Don’t you care?! — and Alicia couldn’t say anything because of course she cared but she had to be strong and she had to be tough and she had to keep going and couldn’t let it get to her and Maddie screamed something fierce, screamed so loud and so long it was amazing her tiny body didn’t give out, she was so small —

Just like her little boy.

He’s so small.

*~*~*

Alicia needs to find him.

He doesn’t know these woods — probably doesn’t know any woods, and that bit of scrub Amity Park calls conservation doesn’t count. This isn’t some patch of green in the middle of a city where the most you’ll see is a stray cat. This is rural. This is wilderness and farmland, where the nearest anything is two miles away.

And this is nighttime. No local would dare go out at night. Alicia more than anyone knows why. Her city slicker fool of a nephew doesn’t stand a chance out there. And like hell she’s gonna just stand by and wait for it to happen. She ain’t giving up the only family she has left to the woods without a fight.

But she’ll be damned if she doesn’t go out there prepared.

*~*~*

“Danny!”

Alicia knows it’s foolish to call out his name like that. She knows it might not be Danny that answers.

But she’s at a loss.

His tracks should have been easy to follow — and they were, for a time. Danny may be smart, but he’s a city kid. He never learned how to hide his tracks the way Alicia and Maddie had growing up in the backwoods of Arkansas. Never learned to pass through these woods without a sign, like the ghosts in the stories Alicia’s momma liked to tell her and Maddie before she died. Never learned to navigate any woods, Alicia reckons, without help from his mom.

But his tracks disappear.

They stop abruptly, in a small clearing, not too far from the fairy circle she hasn’t had the chance to warn him about because he’s hardly ventured off the farm, let alone this far into the woods and —

She takes a breath, and she realizes she’d been holding it for the past minute. Calm down, Alicia. Panicking here won’t do anything but make her lose him for good. And she can’t have that. She won’t have that. Not again.

She takes another breath, steadying herself, and scans her flashlight over the tracks she can see.

Danny had broken through several branches and a thicket of thorns to get here — then fallen to the ground. Probably tripped on one of the roots that arched just above the dirt, hard to see those in the moonlight. She winces in sympathy — a fall like that would leave a mark.

But even so, he had gotten back up again. She sees it clearly in the footprints that follow the fall — stumbling at first, but they grow stronger as they push on into the clearing. The final tracks he left are the clearest — deep footprints facing the other side, the faded treads of his sneakers’ soles pressed firmly into the soil. It’s like he had jumped into the air.

But there’s no sign of where he landed. No hint of where gravity could have pulled him back down to Earth.

Like the moment his feet left the ground, he had disappeared.

Just like —

No.

She wouldn’t think it.

Not here, out in the wilderness at night, where anything could breathe life into those very thoughts.

Not now, when the only family she has left is all alone out here.

But how is she supposed to find him?

Alicia stands up straight, grimacing in frustration at the pop of her back. She’s getting old. Too old to be out at night searching for her fool of a nephew. Not that she’s any wiser, when she’s the one who drove him away.

She takes a deep breath to call Danny’s name again — then chokes on her voice as a wail brutally murders the silence of the night.

The wail — she can’t call it anything else, the way its cries linger in the air — howls through the night, making the hairs rise on the back of her neck and setting her teeth on edge. It echoes over itself, multiplying into a cacophony of moans and keens and shrieks — voices of the damned, screaming in agony and grief.

And before she can think, she finds herself sprinting towards the ghastly sound, gritting her teeth as it grates at her ears and pierces her soul. But she can’t give up, can’t slow down, can’t — can’t think as the wail fills her head and pounds against the inside of her skull —

Only one thought breaks through the cacophony, tolling like a funeral bell, pushing her to move faster, to get there before she’s lost him forever.

Not again.

*~*~*

“Danny, I’m so sorry.”

It’s all Alicia can say; but it isn’t enough, and they both know it. She’s losing him, she can feel it — feel the gulf between them stretching further, even when she steps forward, even as she wraps her arms around him, engulfing him in a careful hug — as if holding him too tight would shatter him; as if holding him too loose would let him slip away.

Foolish.

She isn’t much of a hugger, but even she can feel that this hug is awkward and wrong — in the way his muscles tense when she gently pats him on the back, the way she towers over him and holds him in place, the way he holds himself like a wall of ice and doesn’t hug her back.

She finally lets go, and he steps back, away from her, glaring at the floor, shoulders risen to his ears.

Then his eyes snap to hers, and they are icy blue like his fathers, and deadly sharp like his mother’s — but the fire in them is cold, and it chills her to the bone. His voice matches his eyes.

“I don’t need your pity.”

And before Alicia can do anything, he brushes past her, and he storms out the door, into the night. Into the wilderness.

He doesn’t look back as he slams the door shut.

*~*~*

By the time she finds him, the wail has long since petered out, leaving a deathly silence in its wake. She spots him facing away from her, kneeling at the edge of the lake just northwest of her property, the moonlight catching on the edges of his figure but leaving the rest in shadow.

She wants to run to him, to look him over, make sure he’s okay, to bring him back inside. But that’s not what he needs. So instead, she surveys the area, and she approaches slowly, making her footsteps loud in the unnatural silence.

Alicia knows this part of the lake — has spent a good amount of time sitting where Danny kneels, thinking or just taking in the world. There’s always something a little bit different every time she comes this way — some new growth in the plant life, or some new animal tracks after the rain, or even a tree fallen in the wake of a storm. A couple storms have passed since she last came here.

Nothing natural could have changed the landscape to be what it is now.

Multiple trees have been torn from the ground, violently uprooted and radiating outwards from the lake. Some of them almost look like they’ve been hit by gunfire — large chunks of them missing, splintered wood clawing outwards from the gaping wounds. Greenish smoke rises from the exposed wood.

The same smoke curls from Danny’s fists at his sides.

Carefully avoiding the craters and downed trees, Alicia makes her way to the edge of the lake. Not too close to Danny — she doesn’t want to spook him — but not too far, either. She wants him to know that she’s there, that she’s there for him, for as long as he needs it.

She lowers herself to the ground with a huff.

And she sits with him, in the stillness of the night.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as the smoke dissipates from Danny’s hands; as his fists relax; as he slowly shifts from kneeling, to sitting, to holding his knees. She can’t help the small sigh that escapes her — the way he’s curled up, hugging himself, staring intently at the lake so he doesn’t have to look at her — it’s just like her son.

Just like Flynn.

She sighs again, deep and long. Then she speaks.

“You had a cousin, you know.”

Danny doesn’t respond. But she knows he’s listening.

“Flynn,” she continues. “He was my son.”

She pauses as memories wash over her. “He could name every fish in this lake — and he would, too, when given the chance. Tell you all about the peepers, too. Sometimes, I caught him just sitting and staring into the lake — right where you’re sitting now — just thinking, I guess. He was a smart kid.”

Alicia takes a breath, and can’t help the way it shudders.

“He’s gone now. And it was my fault.”

She swallows, and feels her throat click. “We had a fight — can’t remember what about, it was so long ago — but he ran out of the house. And I went after him, of course I did, but it was broad daylight — he should have been safe — and I didn’t get there fast enough.”

She can remember it like yesterday: the way the sunlight had shown as he ran, warming her skin against the gentle, cool breeze that ruffled the grass and the trees. She’d been glad it was nice out — meant neither of them would catch a cold when she could finally catch up to her fool of a son. She remembers her confusion when Flynn had stopped running — then her dread as the dark green of the forest in front of him had slowly warped to something brighter, swirling and glowing and radioactive and growing with each passing moment — then her panic as she had realized what it was.

“It was one of them ghost portals,” she tells Danny. “I’d never seen one before, but your momma, she’d told me all about them. And she’d told me what all came out of them, too. I ran as fast as I could, and I told Flynn to run; but something reached out and grabbed him. And by the time I got there, it was too late. The portal closed. And my boy was gone.”

She can’t help the shudder in her voice, in her chest as she breathes, in her arms as she tenses them to hold herself together. It’s been a long time since she’s talked about Flynn. Too long. But she can’t break over it. Not yet. Danny needs to know — she gets it.

“Losing Flynn like that — knowing he was right there, that if I’d been a bit faster, or if I’d just listened, he’d still be here — it does something to you. My no good ex-husband, he didn’t get it. I’d be a fool to say he didn’t grieve, in the end — but he wasn’t there. He didn’t see. He didn’t understand.”

She watches from the corner of her eye as Danny stiffens.

“I hunted these woods for anything to get my son back,” she continues. “He just thought I was crazy — me spouting about ghosts and fae, like he knew anything about these woods. It ruined our marriage. And I don’t regret that; but it was a bad time. I had nightmares every night about losing him; and every day I did everything I could to find him. Your parents came out here, too, with all their fancy equipment. Didn’t find a thing. And everything I found out in the woods — none of it helped.”

She sighs and ignores the way her breath shakes.

“I never found Flynn, or the thing that took him. It was my fault. And by now, my son is probably dead.”

Danny’s head lowers into his knees as Alicia speaks. She doesn’t expect him to say anything once she’s run out of words. But a moment later, his voice, hoarse and quiet, echoes out from him.

“How do you do it? Keep going?”

Alicia huffs gently. “One step at a time, I suppose. The world keeps going. No matter how much it feels like it should all stop.” She rubs her face, and she’s only a little surprised to find it damp. “It’s hard, with him gone, knowing it’s my fault. There are times the guilt eats away at you.”

“Does it ever go away?” Danny squeezes his legs to his chest. His voice is small. He’s just a child.

Alicia takes a deep, shuddering breath, then lets it go. “No, Danny. It doesn’t.”

She’s not going to lie to Danny — he deserves better than that.

“Losing someone like that? It never goes away.” She pauses. “It gets easier — or maybe you get used to it. Hell if I know. But it never goes away.”

“Then what’s the point?” Danny sounds… angry. Frustrated. Desperate. He’s on the brink of tears, and he looks tired, so so tired, exhausted even — but it reminds Alicia of… something. Maddie? Maybe Flynn? And she chuckles ruefully.

“See, that’s the hard part. Is there any point to death? To losing someone and knowing it’s your fault?” She sighs. “Danny, I’ve had a long time to think. Ain’t much else to do around here.”

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts.

“You’re always gonna miss them — that won’t change. And they’ll always be a part of you — that won’t change, either. But the world keeps going, one step at a time. And that’s how you gotta take things. There’s work to be done. And there’s people you gotta keep going for. When Flynn was taken, it was your momma that kept me going. Then your sister and you.

“But out here, in the middle of nowhere, that don’t work forever. Here on the farm, you got structure, and you got hard work to keep things going. But mostly, you got solitude. And you got a lot of room for thinking.”

She pauses. “It took a while, but I think I learned how to keep going for myself. Not saying it’s easy — but anything worth doing takes hard work. And I’ll be there for you, as long as you want it, and as long as you need it.”

Alicia looks down properly at Danny then, from where she sits. His face is buried in his knees, and he’s gripping his legs like he’ll fall apart if he lets go. His whole frame trembles with tension.

He’s so small. And it breaks her heart to see him hurting like this.

Alicia puts her hand on Danny’s shoulder, and it nearly engulfs his upper arm. His head shoots up, and he stares at her with wide, glowing green eyes.

Then he starts to pull away from her, turning his head away and blinking his eyes.

“Hey.” Something in her tone makes him stop. She continues. “You don’t have to hide from me, Danny. You can let it out.” And so should I.

Danny searches her face for something — Alicia doesn’t know what. But after a moment, his face crumbles, and he gasps out a sob before launching himself into her arms. Alicia rocks back a bit with the force of it — then catches herself, and holds him tight, rocking him and rubbing circles in his back like she used to do with Flynn.

“I’m here, Danny. I’m here.”

She won’t tell him it’s okay — they both know it’s not.

Maybe they’ll never be okay.

But she’s there for him. And she’ll be there for him, for as long as he needs. Maybe forever, if Maddie was right about ghosts, if Danny is somehow ghostly.

“I’m here.”

She’s there for him when he lets go and leans against her in his exhaustion. She’s there for him when she keeps her arm around him, and they sit, and breathe, and stare out at the lake, under the stars, under the moonlight.

I’m here.

#danny phantom #dp fic #danny fenton #alicia walker #tue #the ultimate enemy #tue farmboy au #dpauzine #this was so satisfying to write #sleepyspacey #sleepyspacey made such good art!#i love it so much!#bib write #bib work #not a q

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