#but then she will look too similar to CL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blondeboyfriend · 1 year

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 (𝐈)

[panel reads from right to left]

» Part 2 [ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This was initially parts 1 and 2, but I decided to combine them. [ SYNOPSIS ] Summer is approaching and you desire to attend class like a good student is dwindling. You decide to ditch class and soak up the sun (okay, Sheryl Crow), but end up face-to-face with star pitcher, Zeke Yeager, who has similar plans. [ WORD COUNT ] 3.8k [ CONTENT ] High school AU, cigarettes, poor school attendance, Grisha's a shitty dad, and you have to ride a bike up a steep ass hill.

“Wait, so you’re really going to ditch?” Pieck asked.

She was always unimpressed with your life choices though her judgment did little to stop you. You haphazardly tossed your physics textbook in your locker and slammed it shut.

“It’s Friday. What could I possibly miss?”

Pieck sighed. “I don’t know, a pop quiz?”

“A pop quiz? I don’t think I’ve ever had a pop quiz in my academic career.”

“We’ve definitely had them.”

“Okay, but who actually calls them that? It’s not like we live in a John Hughes movie.”

You both headed down the hall, towards the back of the school. It was the easiest way to escape the campus. All the other openings were patrolled by the one lazy campus cop that spent his time harassing students for no good reason.

“I guess this is where we part then,” Pieck muttered. “I’ll let you know if you miss anything…”

She wandered off, angry you’d be letting her suffer in physics class all alone.

“Sorry!” You waved, hoping she’d turn around. But she never did.

You pushed through the double doors and relished in the sunlight kissing your skin. It was 90 degrees but a cool breeze tempered the heat. A perfect day in June.

You looked around, not a soul in sight. You crept past a couple beige portables the school built three years ago.

“… I thought portables were supposed to be temporary,” you mumbled under your breath once you cleared the area.

“They just tell us that to placate us.”

You whipped around to see star pitcher and general nuisance, Zeke Yeager, laying down in the grass. He was wearing his cream colored fitted baseball pants; the knees strained with brown dirt. He wore a tight white t-shirt tucked into his pants with a black belt. He sat up, and lit a cigarette. He adjusted his glasses, and looked you up and down.

“Don’t you have class?” He took a long drag and exhaled the smoke in your general direction.

“I could easily ask you the same thing.”

“Feel free.”

“Don’t you have cl—”

“Oh yeah, I had physics but I decided to skip it today. Do I really need to learn about gravity if I already deal with it everyday?”

You gave him a quizzical look. He could not have been this dense. His grey eyes met yours; his gaze was intense.

“I’m kidding.”

You stood around awkwardly. Part of you wanted to peace out and let this talking ashtray go back to laying on the field. But the other part was transfixed by his demeanor.

“I figured. You don’t look that stupid,” you said.

“What class are you ditching?”

You dropped your backpack and sat next to Zeke, making sure to keep some distance from him. He was cute and it made you woefully nervous.

“Anatomy.”

“Lame. I would’ve ditched too.”

Zeke was notorious for his shitty attendance. He was perpetually ten minutes late. And he ditched class whenever he felt like it. No one gave him any shit though because he was on the baseball team. Your high school followed the classic rule: athletes can basically do whatever the fuck they want so long as they don’t fail their courses.

That was something Zeke never needed to worry about. He was intelligent, one of the smartest boys in your class. He had never gotten a single F in his life. You only knew this because people tended to talk about him in the halls. He wasn’t popular by any means, but everyone knew him. He was the best pitcher on the team. He frequently got caught smoking cigarettes in the bathroom. He got invited to all the parties.

“What class would you not ditch?” You questioned.

He lit another cigarette with the cherry end of his previous one.

“I don’t know. I like lit and film a lot.”

Your jaw dropped.

“I wanted to get into that class so bad!”

He snickered. “What did you get instead?”

“… Multicultural lit. Also known as, let’s read books from Western European countries because that’s so multicultural. I fail to recognize how reading a bunch of books by old white men is multicultural in any sense.”

“Are you implying white men operate under a universal culture?”

“And if I am?”

He took a drag. “You’re a genius.”

Your face grew hot. No one had ever called you a genius before, jokingly or not.

“Th—thanks.”

“Yeah, most of my teammates got into lit and film pretty easy, but you know… Privilege.”

You couldn’t hide your distaste. “It’s bullshit.”

“Oh, no! You’re absolutely right. I assure you I am the only one in there that knows we have a 12 page paper on Rashomon due next week.”

You threw your hands up in the air. “See! I want to write an essay on Kurosawa!”

He laughed. “You can write mine, if you want.”

You looked at him, completely dumbfounded.

“Ew, no.”

He playfully elbowed you in the ribs.

“I figured it was worth a shot. You want one?”

He offered you a cigarette. It was one of those weird brown ones, no filter. You’d only smoked once at a party. You had chugged three light beers and decided to bum one off of a rando. A menthol. It didn’t vibe with your lungs to say the least.

But for whatever reason, you said, “Sure.”

He handed you one and you were puzzled. You examined both ends, not sure which one you should light.

“Here,” he said softly.

He plucked the cigarettes from your hands and held it to your lips. His face was so close to yours, you thought you would die right then and there. You parted your lips and accepted the cigarette. He held a lighter to the end.

“Inhale,” he commanded.

You did and immediately coughed.

“Shit, my throat,” you choked out.

He placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, smiling like a proud father.

“Feels good, right?”

“Hardly.” You took another drag and coughed.

“Are you trying to look cool for me, kiddo?”

“No,” you gasped.

He squeezed your shoulder and then proceeded to take the cigarette from you.

“You’re too pretty to smoke anyway.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Are you implying that I’m pretty?”

“Are you implying that I’m pretty?” you parroted back.

He blushed. “It didn’t imply it so much as directly admit it,” he laughed.

“What the fuck is going on here? Yeager, don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

It was the campus cop. You panicked. You weren't a little miss perfect type, but you would be grounded for a month if you got caught cutting class. The cop was far off enough that you could maybe make a break for it. You stared at the gate in the distance. You were fast. And Zeke was an athlete so running should be easy for him. The cop began to lumber towards you both.

“Let’s go,” you whispered, sneakily putting your backpack on.

“What?”

The cop was cresting the hill. You were running out of time.

“Let’s,” you stood up, “go!”

You grabbed Zeke by the wrist and dragged him upright.

“Where?”

You pointed at the gate.

“C’mon, baseball boy, I’m not trying to go to baby jail.”

You both ran towards the gate. You prayed for freedom. You looked back at the cop and finally reached your original location. He stood confused and shouted, “Yeager! Where you going, dude?!”

“Dude?” you panted. You don’t know what possessed you to speak while running for your life.

“Yeah, he tries to act like we’re cool. It’s odd.”

You stopped once you reached the gate. You slid through the opening and ended up in a residential area. You were both catching your breath when you noticed you were still holding onto him.

“Oh fuck, my bad.”

“Huh?” He looked down at his wrist. “Oh! Ha, you’re fine. I didn’t mind your gorilla grip. I doubt I would’ve ran that fast on my own. I am in sandals.”

He gestured towards his feet, he was in fact wearing Birkenstocks and white gym socks.

“Well, now what?” you pondered.

You examined the row of tract homes, some more derelict than others. Most of the windows were busted in leaving the sidewalk glittered with broken glass. You dragged your foot across the shards, relishing in the noise of it cracking under your weight.

Zeke stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “I’m gonna head home. I wanna nap before practice.”

“Oh,” you said dejectedly.

You were hoping you would go on some sort of adventure together. Maybe grab burritos. Talk more about Kurosawa films. Smoke his fancy cigarettes. Maybe even rest your head on his shoulder.

“But I’m not doing anything after. We might be going kind of late tonight, but if you’re free we should meet up.”

“Really?!” You adjusted your tone so you didn’t sound so eager. “Yeah, I don’t have anything going on so sure.”

“Cool. Here.” He handed you his phone. “Add your number.”

You added your number to his contacts list.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, handing his phone back to him.

“Not sure, but you’re smart. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He punctuated the sentence with a wink and walked off.

You sighed and decided to head home. You were a latchkey kid so it’s not like anyone would be waiting for you. Halfway through your journey your phone vibrated multiple times in rapid succession. You checked it and saw messages from an unknown number:

you’re not gonna be one of those gorgeous girls that ghosts me, right? sorry that sounds so pathetic. promise i’m not one of those guys that get butthurt over a girl i’m looking forward to hanging out lol SHIT. sorry if i’m laying it on thick. you looked so cute choking to death.

Ghosting Zeke did cross your mind, mostly because you wanted to beat him to the punch. You found it hard to believe he wanted anything to do with you. It wasn’t a lack of confidence on your part; you knew you were hot shit. Simply put it all felt absurd, too idyllic. Meet up with him after baseball practice? Ha, sure.

But to your surprise you got a series of texts.

SHIT. sorry if i’m laying it on thick. you looked so cute choking to death. WAS THAT INAPPROPRIATE TO SAY? i feel like it was. was it weird? 😂 hella weird but it's okay for the record that emoji was ironic sure it was. is 8 too late? ... i take it back. i rhymed. we can’t hang out. sorry ⚰️

You opted to call him. The phone rang for what felt like forever

“He would be the type to not answer his—”

“Hello?”

“Oh! Hi! Uh,” you spat out in a panic.

Words were a foreign concept. You hadn’t thought about what you’d say after he answered the phone. You weren’t much of a planner evidently.

“Is 8 too la—Nope, not doing it again. Does 8 work for you?”

You smiled at him avoiding the rhyme. His voice radiated pride.

“Nope. I’m not some baby.”

“Never said you were one, kiddo.”

“Kiddo? Really?”

“I said what I said.”

Could he be anymore obnoxious? You shook your head. He probably could.

You sighed. “Whatever. What do you wanna do?”

“Can you ride a bike?”

You paused. “… Yes.”

“Do you have one?”

You thought hard. Your mom had a beat up, turquoise fixed gear she kept in the garage but you couldn’t even remember the last time you rode a bike.

“Yeah, I have my mom’s.”

“Cool. I’ll drop a pin. See you soon, beautiful.”

He hung up before you could even comprehend a word he said. You looked down at your outfit. You felt anything other than beautiful. You got off your bed and walked over to your closet. You eyed a floral-print sundress but shook your head. You barely knew him! It had only been a few hours since you last saw him. You never put this much thought into stuff like this, so why start now? You had every reason in the world to be confident.

But alas, you remained self-conscious. Plagued with insecurity and teenage woe.

“Try hard,” you murmured.

Nothing looked particularly appealing. You were embarrassed it crossed your mind to look cute for Zeke.

“Gross. If anything I should look uglier.”

You decided not to change your outfit. There was no reason to overthink it. You were going biking with the guy and it’s not even like it was a date. He just asked you to hang out in a very flirtatious way.

You ran downstairs and crept into the garage to grab your mom’s bike. As you managed to free it from the closet you knocked over the recycling bin.

“Sweetie, is everything okay out there?”

You panicked. She wouldn’t mind you taking her bike, nor would she mind you going out on a Friday night. But you couldn’t bear the thought of telling her you were going to meet up with a boy. You hit the switch and opened the garage door.

“Yup. Yes. 100%.” You grimaced as you exited. “I’ll be home late. I’ll text you if I die or something.”

“Sounds good.”

And off you went.

You biked to the spot Zeke told you to meet him at. The whole thing felt kind of shady the more you thought about it. It didn’t help that he essentially had you scaling a hill. You knew by the time you got to the top you’d be sweaty. The only thing that kept you sane was knowing he’d likely be gross from baseball practice.

“Fuck,” you panted. “This is so not cool. I can’t believe I let this shithead convince me—”

“Hey there!”

You dropped your concentration for a brief moment and glanced up to see Zeke. He waved manically, clearly hamming it up for you. Typical boy nonsense.

“You’re so close! You can do it!”

You finally reached the top of the hill and leaned your mom’s bike down on the ground. You sat down on the curb and tried to catch your breath.

“Hi,” was all you could cough out.

Zeke sat down beside you. He was still in his baseball uniform. He draped an arm around you, giving you a little squeeze.

“Nice bike!”

“Thanks,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. Shockingly he didn’t reek. He smelled like a pleasant combination of peppermint Altoids and additive-free tobacco.

“If I had known you’d be rolling up on a Bianchi I would’ve had us meet on flat land. You could’ve hopped on the back of mine.”

He leaned his head on top of yours. You typically weren’t such a touchy person but something about Zeke leant himself to human contact. It felt natural, like it was always meant to be like that. His blonde hair felt like velvet up against your cheek.

“The view is worth it though, right?” he asked, expectantly.

There was a hint of worry, maybe even desperation to his tone. You stared out at the suburbs, which soon gave way to the city. The lights seemed endless, rows and rows of yellow and white pinpricking the darkness. Suburbia was never very attractive in any sense of the word, but he was right. The view was nice; it had been worth it.

“Yeah, it’s not too bad. How was practice?”

He sighed deeply.

“I’m the only person that showed up on time. No one else had their shit together. My catcher was somehow hungover even though it was a Friday afternoon and he’s barely 18. I got a ball thrown at my ass. My thumb feels weird. And my dad forgot to pick me up… Again.”

“Wow. Uh.” You struggled to find words that would console him.

“Sorry. It was not a good day to say the least.”

“No, no, I’m sorry. It sucks when you’re the only one that gives a shit.”

“No, kiddo, I’m sorry.”

“Kiddo?” you said, voice dripping with disdain.

“See! Sorry for calling you kiddo. Look at all the things I have to apologize for.”

You stared at him in disbelief. He gave you a little cat-like smirk. His grey eyes might as well have been sparkling. He knew he was charming. Boys like him were always the most beguiling. They were the ones you needed to keep an eye on, to keep at an arm’s length.

And yet, here you were with him, staring out into a vast expanse of human civilization with barely any space between you two.

“Apologies accepted then. But in all seriousness, I’m sorry your evening was shit. How did you end up getting home?”

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“I walked,” he said, coolly.

“Far?”

He took a long drag and let the smoke drift out of his mouth.

“Few miles.”

“Well, you seem to be o—”

“I had… all my gear. I told him where to meet me. It’s not like he was clueless.”

“I—”

“But of course he tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal. His logic was, ‘It wasn’t a game.’ As if the issue was him not witnessing me play.”

You quickly realized he needed someone to merely listen to him. By look on his face you could tell people didn’t tend to lend him an ear when he needed to vent.

Zeke continued. “It’s... One second I convince myself I don’t care. And then the other… I don’t know.”

You desperately wanted to find the words to make him better. You hated to see anyone in such dire straits.

“I’m sorry your dad is such a fuck.”

He guffawed. “Understatement of the year. I wish I could return him.”

A lightbulb went off in your head. “Return to sender.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and mimicked a call. “Hey, grandpa, yeah, it’s Zeke. Can you take Grisha back?”

“He’s broken; it doesn’t father properly,” you snickered.

“Listen, I know he’s your son but he’s worthless.”

“Every day he finds new ways to disappoint everyone.”

“We thought ruining his first marriage would’ve taught him to do better but here we are.”

“Please take back this ugly man you call your son.”

He snorted. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s slow down. I do kind of look like him.”

You stared blankly at him. “All the more reason to stand by what I said.”

You both broke out into a fit of laughter.

“Oh, fuck, kiddo. You’re too much.”

You punched his arm.

“We’re the same age, aren’t we? You have no reason to call me that.”

“It’s ironic. That’s charming, right? You’re into irony.”

You took a good look at him. He was right; you did have an affinity for irony.

“Charming? You? Ha!” you scoffed.

“I’ll have you know I’m a delight. People love me.”

“Psh.”

Again, he was right. He was endearing, easy to talk to. There was a reason everyone at school knew him. The teachers adored him and sang his praises. Girls whispered about him in the locker room. But oddly enough he wasn’t one of the “popular kids”. People talked about Zeke but they never talked to him. They treated him more as an idea, a concept, rather than a person.

“I’m a treat. You will never convince me otherwise.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t bother. It’d be fruitless,” you said.

“So you’re admitting that I’m charming?”

“I guess.”

A smug expression crept upon his face. If you could’ve taken back those two words, you would have.

“The feeling is mutual,” he said in a singsong voice.

Your eyes widened and your face grew warm. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Wow! Look at us! Two charming friends!” you called out nervously.

Idiot. You didn’t want to be friends! You wanted him to wrap his arms around you, call you kiddo even though it annoyed you, kiss you under the fucking stars! You cursed your mouth for betraying you. It crossed your mind to toss out a casual “jk” but you froze.

However the comment didn’t seem to bother Zeke.

“You know I can’t remember the last time someone actually called me their friend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. How embarrassing is that.” He adjusted his glasses; clearly a nervous habit.

“I’ve heard more embarrassing things.”

He smiled. “Oh, good.”

“I don’t have many friends either, if it makes you feel better. I mean, other than Pieck I’m a bit of a loner.”

“I know, it never made sense to me.”

Jesus fucking Christ, was he trying to kill you with kindness?

You laughed nervously. “I think people think I’m a bit of bitch or standoffish. I could probably be friendlier.”

“Fuck that.” He lit another cigarette. “Want one?”

You shook your head.

He continued. “Being friendly is overrated. People take advantage of that. Plus you’re hardly bitchy. You just listened to me whine about my daddy issues. You’re a saint if anything.”

Again, he was laying it on thick. Calling you a saint was borderline too much to take.

“You have to stop. I’m gonna die if you keep gassing me up like this.”

He coughed. “Fine. You’re gross. The worst. I never want to see you and your nasty ass again.”

“There we go.”

He leaned his head on your shoulder again. The more you thought about his behavior it became clear he didn’t get much affection, platonic or otherwise. You still had an inkling he had a crush on you. But you decided to focus more on being a friend, someone he could come to. You knew a girlfriend could do those things, but romance seemed trivial. He didn’t need a love interest; he needed a buddy.

You were ripped away from your thoughts as you heard a faint vibration.

“Ugh. It’s my dad.”

Zeke got up and answered his phone.

“What?!” he shouted.

He wandered off. You could hear him arguing in the distance. Part of you wanted to run up and grab his phone and tell his dad off. But that would’ve been absolutely bonkers. You looked out at the view and tried to think about other things.

“Whatever. Bye.”

You heard footsteps behind you and the flicker of a lighter.

“What happened?” you asked; your voice filled with concern.

He stared at you. His grey eyes were lifeless.

“I gotta go.”

“Oh, okay,” you said with a frown.

“But I had fun. Thanks for hanging out with me. Are you gonna get home okay?”

“Yeah, I don’t live too far from here.”

You both stood in silence, staring at your shoes. Neither of you wanted to go home.

“Can I… escort you home?”

“Sure?”

His eyes lit up and he tossed his lit cigarette into the street. You prayed it didn’t start a fire.

“Cool! Let’s go!”

He picked up his bike and mounted it. You did the same.

“Race down the hill? I know it’s steep, but it’ll be fun,” he said with a goofy, boyish grin.

You usually weren’t reckless as grievous bodily harm was anything but appealing, but you said fuck it.

“Ladies first!” And with that you sped down the hill.

“Cheater!” Zeke shouted as he trailed after you.

Needless to say, you won the race.

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager fics #zeke jaeger fics #aot fluff #snk fluff #attack on titan fluff #shingeki no kyojin fluff #zeke yeager fluff #zeke jaeger fluff #aot fics #snk fics #reader insert #x reader #.fics #.aot #.zeke

109 notes · View notes

vivienne-writes · 1 year

Text

Belladonna

Part 2 of I'll Ingrain Your Touch Into My Memory

Warning: smut, slight angst

Summary: After being given a chance to touch your face that one afternoon in the courtyard, he couldn't help but crave another. It was akin to a promising dew drop on a starved man's lips. Ominis thirsted for more, and his desire frightened him.

A/N: This is my very first time writing smut and let me tell ya'll, I struggled. I can read it just fine but writing it? Whole different beast. To all you smutty fic writers out there, thank you for your service cause this was not easy.

Ominis Gaunt was of the notion that one whiff, one taste, or one touch was enough to sate one’s curiosity. So he stretched out an arm, fingers encountering a chunky, coarse substance that stuck to his fingers. Soil.

He took a deep breath in, taking in the heady floral scent of moly and asphodel mixed with an earthy muskiness that hung in the air. He was in the greenhouse for herbology, ascertained as much by the humidity that weighed down his neck, which didn’t help as the warmth made his uniform cling uncomfortably on his skin. Ominis loosened his tie as he listened to Professor Garlick’s voice in the distance drone on about the uses of belladonna, a poisonous and deadly nightshade that brought many victims to death’s arms for its similar appearance to elderberries. Ominis couldn’t help but wonder darkly how people could be so foolish as to mistake the two.

Now normally, the combination of the heat, the scents, and the lull of the young professor's singsong voice would've been enough to send him into a drowsy stupor, but one thing was keeping him awake, heightening up his senses and excitement.

To his right, he could feel the twitch of your leg against his as you squirmed restlessly in your seat, struggling to stay awake. Professor Garlick assigned pairs for this project, grading each one on how well they could grow the flower together. Much to the latter's reluctant delight, she had picked you to be Ominis' partner. To him, you were an anomaly that defied his preconceived notion. After being given a chance to touch your face that one afternoon in the courtyard, he couldn't help but crave another. It was akin to a promising dew drop on a starved man's lips. Ominis thirsted for more, and his desire frightened him.

Given his pessimistic nature and upbringing, Ominis preferred to keep people at an arm's distance. He instinctively harbored distrust despite his fondness for his peers, and only two people so far managed to breach his hardened shell. But Anne Sallow had gone indefinitely, and her brother Sebastian was too busy treading a path that toed the line of danger. And now, here you were, slipping through his guarded walls with ease, simply by virtue of being you.

Your passion for learning and eagerness to accrue more magical knowledge were endearing but never stopped you from taking the time to smell the roses. You greeted everyone with unbridled warmth, extended a hand to those that needed help, and accompanied others on their journey simply for companionship. Ominis couldn’t find anyone more kind or selfless. You were well accomplished in academic feats, skillful in both dueling and flying (enough to gain Sebastian and Imelda’s respect), and you managed to earn the adoring friendship of respectable students and troublemakers alike. Who couldn’t be intrigued by one such as yourself?

And this was where Ominis’ uneasiness came in. For someone as reputable as yourself, surely you had no time to pay attention to someone as sour and dourly as himself. Your friendship? He can earn that. But your affections? Ominis could only shake his head. What did he have to offer that you couldn’t find in someone else? Sebastian was charming, unpredictable, and intense. Garreth was supposedly as good-looking as he was good-natured, and Amit was well-spoken, well-behaved, and well-versed in numerous languages. And if you wanted a good time, you could paint the town red with Everett Clopton and his deviously creative hijinks. And Leander Prewett? Well, Ominis supposed Leander’s tall stature and drive to best Sebastian was better than nothing.

"Ominis?" you called out, breaking his chain of thought. Judging by the scuffle of chairs and footsteps, Professor Garlick had finished her lecture, and it was time to start working. Ominis cleared his throat as you began heaping soil into your potting tables, aware you were only one breath away from him. This only made the sweltering heat he felt even worse as your fingers brushed against his gently, his shoulders bumping clumsily against yours, your voice low and soft as you assisted him.

“This is unbearable,” he muttered to himself, wiping the sweat that began to trickle down his brow.

“You alright?” you asked, voice filled with concern, your breath fanning his face tantalizingly.

“Yes, it’s just an oven in here,” he answered, glad he had an excuse for the prickling flush creeping up his neck and ears.

“Oh, you got some dirt on your face. Here, let me get that for you,” you said, wiping a finger against his temple. “Oh dear, it left a stain. Ominis, could you hold still while I…”

You trailed off as you grabbed his chin lightly, licking your thumb to scrub off the stubborn smudge. Unfortunately, in your distraction, you failed to notice that you had wedged a leg between his thighs. The sensation, while welcoming, was all too much for Ominis. He knew he had to be blushing at this point, and there was no way to hide it.

“I’m sure Sebastian is having a laugh at this,” he muttered. You looked over to see Sebastian trying to hide a smirk as he avoided your gaze, pretending to focus on whatever Natty was trying to tell him.

“Am I missing something?” you wondered aloud.

“I’m sure he thinks it’s hilarious that you’re mollycoddling me like this,” Ominis lied with a scoff. No, that’s not what Sebastian was actually having a giggle at. He was enjoying the sight of his usually stoic friend blushing, all hot and bothered underneath your touch. But he’d rather rip his own nails out than tell you that.

“Oh, my apologies,” you said uncertainly as you pulled your hands away. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so forward…”

“I-it’s alright,” Ominis stammered as he looked away, an awkward hush falling upon the both of you, neither quite sure what to say.

“Shall we continue potting?” you asked quietly. Ominis detected the dejection in your voice and inwardly cursed at himself. Of course, you were trying to be nice, and this was how he repaid you. He racked his brains, trying to figure out a way to ease the uncomfortable silence.

“Do I annoy you, Ominis?” Your query plunged his guilt even further than he thought possible.

“Absolutely not,” he reassured. “I’m just… not quite used to other people touching me.”

Ominis hailed from a family whose cruelty was as renowned as their fanatical loyalty to the idealism of pureblood supremacy. Muggles were often the poor subjects of their ruthlessness, tortured for the Gaunt family’s entertainment, but they were quick to redirect their savagery towards anyone who dared to speak otherwise, their own son included. He had been on the receiving end of the Cruciatus curse more times than he could count, forced to dispel the curse back unto muggles before he could even learn the most basic of charms. His parents were generous with magical torture and corporal punishment alike, indifferent to the pain and torment they brought if it meant Ominis’ compliance.

His childhood was devoid of a mother’s loving touch, and Ominis received no kindness from his father or siblings. It was a wonder he even turned out the way he did, despite all that he had gone through. Therefore, it was no surprise that he recoiled away from your warmth as much as he sought it. His trauma instilled an instinct to flinch at the slightest graze, to run away in self-preservation. But you? He yearned for you and the delicate caress of your skin against his. You gave your tenderness so freely to anyone who needed it; what was a little more to poor Ominis?

“I don’t deserve it,” he concluded miserably to himself, or so he thought. He muttered the last part so faintly; you wouldn't have caught it if your focus weren't honed into him. You couldn't follow his train of thought, and you were unsure what he was going on about, but the agony in his voice seemed to stem from suffering that went beyond your understanding. But, of course, that didn't stop you. Nothing ever could. What you wouldn’t give to ease his pain…

“Say, Ominis,” you began, a smile growing on your lips. “Maybe I can help?”

He turned to you in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“Meet me in the Undercroft tonight. Alone.” you whispered, your heart beating out of your chest. Nervousness struck Ominis like lightning, and all he could do was slowly nod in response, his mind running through a dozen possibilities as to why you wanted to meet him there, each one more anxiety-inducing than the last.

Ominis heaved a sigh of relief once the bells chimed, signaling the end of classes for the day. He desperately needed a moment away from you to recoup, gather his rampant thoughts, and possibly squeeze in a bath before he met up with you. Herbology often left him feeling gross, but your effect on his nerves had him sweating bullets the past hour.

"Don't forget!" you called out to him as he hurriedly left the classroom. You watched his retreating figure, wondering if he would even show up.

By the time you entered the Undercroft, you had found Ominis patiently lounging on a couch, wand skimming the pages of a book. He looked up at the sound of the iron-wrought gate closing. The moon was brilliantly shining overheard through the windows, exemplifying Ominis' striking features. It was a shame really that he couldn't see his own beauty, physically and internally.

“Have you been waiting long?” you asked as you sat on the other end of the couch, pulling your knees up to your chin.

“I suppose I should say yes, but reading makes the time fly by," he answered with a smile. Truthfully, he left the Slytherin dormitory as soon as he had changed into a fresh set of clothes. He was too restless, and his constant pacing was bound to irritate Sebastian, who had procured another book from the Restricted Section. While Ominis would've chided him for doing so, the book would keep his friend too busy to inquire about his evening plans, and Ominis was not in the mood to deal with Sebastian's taunting. Ominis closed his book and set his wand away as he looked at you expectantly. "So, what did you want to help me with?”

You swallowed nervously as you struggled to find the words to start. Oh, where was your bravado now? You always managed to leap headfirst into situations without giving them proper thought. "You said… you weren't used to people touching you, so I thought I could help you overcome it." But, unfortunately, that came out far lamer than you had hoped.

"And how do you plan on accomplishing that?" Ominis asked with a tilt of his head, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. He usually kept it slicked back, but that one lock had you wishing you could run your fingers through his hair messily.

Oh, that’s right. While you had genuinely wanted to help Ominis overcome his misgivings about being touched, you’d be lying to yourself if you denied using this as an opportunity to make the first move. You had given him hint after hint after hint, greeting him in the hallways whenever possible, offering to walk with him to classes, even mustering all the charm you possessed when you talked to him to see if he’d show the slightest interest. Alas, it was poor Poppy who had taken pity on you and offered to chase Ominis down herself to see once and for all if he returned the sentiment. The only inclination he gave you back then was the slight flush in his cheeks as his thumb glossed over your lips, but that wasn't much to work with. So you figured you might as well just jump in, guns blazing. Whether he liked you or not, you’d get your answer.

Ominis felt the cushion dip as you scooched closer, resting a hand on his thigh.

“Perhaps you can start by touching me?”

The air in the room was heavy with suspense as Ominis took in the burning sear of your hand on his thigh, entirely at a loss for words. "I beg your pardon?” he asked incredulously.

"I said, you could start by touching me. You'd be more desensitized if you practiced touching others first. Here, get a feel for my hand. Familiarize yourself with how different it feels compared to yours.”

While that wasn’t exactly what he thought you meant, it was pleasant, nonetheless. You lifted the hand off his thigh, allowing Ominis to finally concentrate. With both hands, he felt each knuckle and vein, explored every wrinkle on your palm, and played with the tips of your fingers. You watched him patiently as he turned your hand this way and that, taking in the smoothness of his fingers as you did so. They were daintier than you were expecting, but you couldn't help eyeing the veins that protruded nicely across the back of his hands.

Ominis fought the urge to close his fingers around yours. “Now, what’s next?” he asked, a little too keen for more. He felt your arm move as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Up to you. We’ll go with whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I’m… not sure where to go from here.”

"Would you like to touch my face? You've done it before. Might help build up your confidence." You repositioned yourself so that you faced Ominis directly, bringing one of his hands to your cheek. Then, in quiet rejoice, you noticed he kept the other on his lap, still holding unto yours loosely. This was a start.

"You've got a scar here," Ominis mused, gently stroking the side of your face.

You chuckled amusedly. Nothing ever got past him. "Yes, well, you're bound to get into a few scrapes here and there if you venture into the forbidden forest often enough."

“The what?!” he gasped, pulling his hand back. “Are you mad? It’s called the forbidden forest for a reason! Unbelievable. Had I known you’ve been traipsing off to the forbidden forest as if it were a trip to Hogsmeade-”

You burst into laughter. His duality amused you, flitting from soft-spoken and shy one moment to loud and outrageous the next. It was quite endearing. “I assure you, Ominis, I’ll be fine! I’ve been there loads of times. I know my way around better than Mr. Moon himself.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” he snapped. He loathed to think of you putting yourself in constant danger, hunted down by gigantic spiders, trolls, and hounds in the depths of that damned forest.

You pulled his hand back. “Focus.” With reluctant obedience, he laid his hand upon your cheek, his expression softening at the feel of your scar. His hand trailed down to the side of your neck, curious to know if you had any more hidden within the confines of your uniform. Ominis considered that if given a chance, he'd kiss each and every one of them away. As his hand descended towards the crook of your neck, that thought seemed more and more tempting. He considered what your skin would feel like against his lips. Warm and supple…

“Ominis?” you breathed heavily. He hadn’t noticed his grip had tightened around your neck. He released you immediately.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to- this was a bad idea,” he stumbled over his words as he tried to stand up, furious that he allowed himself to hurt you. You pulled him back down, reeling from the pleasant haze and the realization that you enjoyed being choked.

“Don’t,” you pleaded. It was clear that Ominis was equally as interested in you as you were in him, but there seemed to be a dissonance somewhere. Was he struggling to read your advances, leading him to think his attraction was one-sided? Or was he refusing to accept his own feelings for you? Either way, you were too afraid to let him go, afraid you may never have this chance again. With great resolve, you interlaced your fingers with his and brought it to your chest, hoping he’d take the hint.

The sudden change in the air was unmistakable, buzzing with excitement and apprehension. Whatever yearning Ominis had for you had increased tenfold within a second, and he knew this was the precipice. The mere fact that you bared this much of yourself to him only solidified that which he had denied himself for so long: you desired him the same way he did you. But should he fall headfirst into the assumption or salvage whatever would be left of this friendship if he were to pull back?

“Do you not want this?” you murmured, your breath ghosting his lips. He didn’t realize you were so close.

“On the contrary, I do. Very much.” Ominis sighed. “But I need to know you want this too.” The conflict and longing now made evident on his face was too much for you to bear, so you did the only thing you could think of: you tugged on his collar, pulling him down to greet his lips with yours.

Every ounce of doubt washed away as Ominis closed his eyes, reveling in the velveteen plumpness of your mouth. The hand still held close to your chest could feel the fast thrum of your heart, and Ominis couldn't help but smile. Now that he had overcome the initial timidness, his reluctance vanished only to be replaced by a sudden hunger that had always been there, lurking in the depths of his being. He wanted you; he always had.

Ominis was one of the many students intrigued by your sudden entrance as a fifth year, but that intrigue grew into something more when he'd become increasingly aware of your presence during classes. He'd subconsciously take note of your whereabouts by the sound of your voice, a sound he found himself searching for often. He'd eavesdrop on your conversations, curious to know how your day went or what shenanigans you've been up to. He drank up every bit of the stories you shared with your friends; stories of your life before Hogwarts, reports of the hijinks you got yourself into. Unfortunately, a sliver of selfishness wrought itself into Ominis's heart a little too late for him to notice, and it wasn't until much later that he realized he wished he were the lucky one you regaled these stories to. He'd love to have you all to himself, and with nothing to bar him now, Ominis gave in to the hunger, feeding off your soft, languid kisses. They were delightful, but he found himself wanting more.

Usually, he abstained from indecency, the farthest he allowed himself was fantasizing about a simple touch. But as your hand returned to his thigh and your tongue began to explore his mouth, Ominis couldn’t care any less how improper he was about to be. All he wanted- no, needed- was you. Every inch of you.

You noticed the sudden change in demeanor as he began kissing you with renewed fervor, one hand splayed on your lower back as the other gripped your neck again. You turned your head away to catch your breath, and without skipping a beat, Ominis lowered his mouth, latching onto your jaw, biting and sucking as he did so. You whimpered his name, sending a bolt of heat to pool in his lower belly. He trailed open-mouthed kisses down from your jaw to the crook of your neck, leaving blossoming marks as he went.

Suddenly, you found your clothes too hot, too restricting. You grabbed the hand around your neck and pulled it down to the front of your shirt. "Take it off," you demanded impatiently. Ominis quirked his lips.

“There’s no need to be bossy,” he admonished playfully, pausing his ministrations to your neck to unbutton every single button. You'd rather he'd just rip it right off, but Ominis discovered he enjoyed teasing you. He pushed the fabric away once he was done, tentatively placing a hand on one breast, waiting for a response. Since you didn’t protest, he pushed you back to lay you down, towering over you as he fondled your breast with more ardor. You arched into his touch, your mind crumbling into incoherency the moment you felt him peel back your undergarments to resume his slow kisses on your breast. You were painfully aware he was avoiding the one place you wanted his mouth on as your nipple perked into the cold air.

"Ominis," you moaned, running your fingers through his hair, hoping to coax him in your desired direction.

“Hmm?” he hummed, nipping your ribcage lightly.

“Please?” It came out as a pitiful whine, but you were past the point of shame.

“Well, how could I say no to that?” he drawled, relishing the feel of your fingers on his scalp and the fact that he could elicit such noises from you. He takes a moment to remove your bra completely, casting it aside before enclosing your nipple within his lips. The tightness in his pants grew as you breathed a sigh of relief, but he’ll attend to that later. Right now, your tits demanded his full attention. You looked down to see Ominis push your breasts together, allowing him to suck and nibble on both nipples at once. The sensation and the sight of him, hair all mussed as he drew your sensitive nubs into his mouth, sent a thrill down to your very core, and you couldn't help but grind on the leg situated between your thighs, hoping to alleviate the ache that had begun to build up.

Ominis released a hand to trail it past your stomach, down to the heat beneath your knee-length skirt. You jump as he presses his palm against the damp cloth of your stockings, instinctively drawing them closed. "Open for me," he muttered into your ear, pulling your panties and stockings off in one fluid motion as soon as you did so. You couldn't avoid shying away from him despite his lack of sight, feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable. He noticed your meekness and placed a kiss on your forehead, hoping to relieve your tension.

“Sssshhh," he whispered, returning his fingers to the mound between your legs. Funny how he was the one that needed encouragement not too long ago, and now, he was rubbing circles on your clit as though it was second nature to him. The moans escaping your lips were unstoppable now as Ominis resumed suckling on your breast, hastening the sensual pace of his fingers. You grasped his shoulders, bracing for the impending climax, but Ominis had other plans. He drew his fingers away, much to your dismay.

“I think I’ve learned enough for today,” he smirked, pushing the hair off your sweat-stricken forehead. You glared at him in disbelief. Here you were, laying in a disarrayed state of undress, your body covered in a mixture of sweat and spit, everything you had to offer laid bare in front of him, and he had the gall to stop?

“Are you serious?” you sat up, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. Ominis twirled a lock of your hair around his finger, a teasing smile on his face. He adored working you up.

“I guess I could continue… if you beg.” He nuzzled your cheek before biting down on your shoulder. You've always wondered what it was about Ominis that landed him in Slytherin, besides the evident connection to the founder himself. But Salazar Slytherin's blood flowed through the veins of the boy sat in front of you and you've wildly underestimated how sly a Gaunt can be when given reason to. "I'm waiting." He lightly stroked your entrance tantalizingly with one finger before lowering his voice to a husky whisper. “I can give you so much more if you beg.”

And beg you did, urging him to go on. “Touch me, please.” you clutched his wrist, pressing him to move his fingers.

“Like this?” He glided one finger inside, thrilled to feel the promising warmth and wetness inside you. Ominis pulled out before adding another finger, curving them to rub a spot that had you seeing stars. You rested your forehead on his shoulder, the lust in you threatening to disintegrate the last bit of your self-control. You mewled into his ear, panting, pleading for more. Whatever it was he wanted to hear you say, you said it. Pushed to desperation, you place a hand on his crotch, hoping to evoke the same insurmountable need rising in you. He hissed as you rubbed the painfully sensitive bulge, his presence of mind wavering as he almost gave in to the idea of taking you then and there. He wanted to take his time with you, draw out your every breath, every whine if it meant hearing you tell him how much you needed him.

“I’ve begged enough, Ominis. You promised me.” Ominis balked at the break in your voice. You sounded so close to tears. He repositions you against the back of the couch as he kneels in front of you, plunging his fingers into you with a steady pace, basking in the fresh wave of your moans and the scent of your arousal.

“Was this what you wanted?” he croaked, barely containing himself. He needed to get you off before he lost his mind. You reached for his face to stroke his cheek and, in one minuscule moment of clarity, imagined pulling his hair to bring him down to your bare cunt. And that's precisely what you did. Ominis intuitively began lapping his tongue on your clit, nibbling and suckling here and there as he did so, the taste of you overriding his senses. You watched him place your legs around his shoulders, fully immersing himself as he ate you out like a man starved.

The obscene noises, his hot breath on your pussy, the fingers working you up to euphoria, and the tongue that lavished you; all of it was simply too much. But that wasn’t what did you in. It was the sight of Ominis- prim and proper Ominis, who preferred his uniform ironed and starched, never seen with a single strand of hair out of place, who carried himself about almost proudly as was expected of a Gaunt, now buried face deep in your beautiful cunt with his clothes askew and his hair toppling over his sweat-drenched forehead; that’s what did you in. The power and satisfaction that you, and only you, could bring him to his knees like this was a heady drug that finally pushed you over the edge, careening as your climax tore through your very being as if lightning itself was speeding through your veins.

Ominis gave you a few more pumps of his fingers to let you ride out the rest of your orgasm before succumbing to the ravenous need between his legs. He shrugged off his vest and removed his tie as you reached up to unbuckle his trousers. Even the friction of his underwear sliding off was unbearable, and Ominis knew he wouldn't last long. But he needed to feel your warmth on his cock, needed it more than he'd ever needed anything before. He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight or the next until he could finally feel you. He pushed you back down as he kissed you feverishly, sloppy and untamed, quite different from the calm, collected persona he was a few moments ago. He pulled your hips against his, and you could feel him against your thigh, slightly bigger than you had imagined. You wanted to peek at it but were too busy trying to keep up with his mouth. Finally, Ominis lined himself up with your entrance, nervousness clearing his mind just enough for him to ask. "Will you let me?"

You nodded, then realized there was no way he could see that, so you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "Yes," was all you could manage to whisper. No fancy words, no beating around the bush. You wanted this, dreamt of this even, night after night. And now, he could finally fulfill your heart's deepest wish. The head of him slipped through your lips, and it took everything in you not to pull away from the stinging sensation as your walls endeavored to accommodate him. Ominis buckled from the tightness, but he willed himself to keep on. This was for you just as much as it was for him, and he'd be damned if he couldn't make you cum one more time.

He eased himself in as slowly and gently as you needed until he was buried to the hilt. You grasped his forearms, adjusting to the unfamiliar fullness within you as Ominis took slow, deep breaths above you.

"You could try moving now," you said. Ominis nodded, pulling out almost completely before pushing all the way back in, hissing through his teeth. He thrusted like this for a while, agonizingly slowly, afraid he'd hurt you until you asked him to go faster. Now that you had gotten accustomed to him, the pain subsided to bliss, and you couldn’t get enough. “More,” you whimpered, and Ominis obliged. He wrapped his hand around your neck again, gripping your windpipe firmly as he pounded into you relentlessly. He didn’t bother holding back anymore, his grunts mixing with your moans as you repeated his name over and over like a prayer, dragging your nails down his back and arms. Ominis never thought pain could be this exquisite.

“I don’t think I can last any longer,” he panted, bracing himself on both elbows. You nipped his jaw, your own orgasm making its way back to your belly.

“Come for me,” you said ever so sweetly. He buried his face in the valley between your breasts as he pumped his cock into you erratically, holding back his own orgasm until he felt you clamp down on him, your walls throbbing as another orgasm shattered your exhausted body. Ominis pulled out right as hot white ropes shot over your belly, his own orgasm just as mind-shattering as yours. He leaned his forehead against yours as the two of you returned from the high, all strength leaving your bodies.

The night had gotten so late, and neither of you had the energy to get up and trek back to your dorms. Ominis grabbed his wand and, with a lazy wave, cleaned you up and magicked both your clothes back on, save for your bra.

"Um, I'd like to have that back, please," you said, summoning a few cushions and a quilt from the pile of junk across the room. You felt Ominis shake his head as he rested it on your chest, an arm wrapping itself across your waist.

"I'd like to keep a memento of this night if you'd let me."

“Ominis, I don’t have my robes. My nipples will peek through my shirt.” He grinned at the image that evoked, pocketing that for later.

"Would you rather I keep your panties and let you walk back exposed?" The thought of it apprehended yet excited you, but you were wearing a shorter skirt today, and you'd rather not risk showing yourself to some unsuspecting student. At least you could hide your chest if you crossed your arms.

“Fine,” you relented, tucking yourself and Ominis under the quilt comfortably, sleep heavy on your eyelids. His breath had slowed down considerably, and he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, leaning up to give your jaw a chaste kiss.

“Tomorrow’s the weekend,” he murmured. “What say we sleep here and leave for breakfast together before the whole school wakes up?”

"I would like that very much," you said, stifling a yawn before allowing sleep to take over, your limbs entwined with his. And that's how Sebastian found the two of you in the early morning hours. He was worried about his best friend and decided to check the Undercroft, only to see yours and Ominis' heads barely peeking above the covers, gentle snores filling the quiet air. He snuck back out as quietly as he came, grateful that his friend finally found his happiness.

#this was 12 pages people #holy sssss I didn't mean for this to get so long #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #ominis x you

64 notes · View notes

justanamesstuff · 10 months

Note

girl, i need you to write about Arthur’s friends thrusting over the missus and matty being all jealous I’m begging you 🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️

Hi bestie <3 YES! I search the other time i talked about it for a bit...and it was also between us 🤭

Reader hears one of Arthur's friends saying she's fit and tells Matty about it. The conversation was cut short because Ruth spilled the beans about Mel's boyfriend and Matty simply lost it.

Although, the compliments and lingering looks from the boys to Y/n every time they're around the house start to drive Matty crazy. He's not a jealous boyfriend/husband, because he's 100% sure she only has eyes for him...and specially he's not jealous of a bunch of h*rny teens. Nevertheless, Matty hates when he catches one of Arthur's friends eyes on her cleavage.

The worst comes when the boys start to pick up on Matty's behaviour. Arthur tries his best so they don't mess too much with his dad but they're young and think everything is funny so they keep pushing and pushing until....Matty finally snaps.

It's a hot day and the family is around the pool. Y/n let Arthur invite his friends without thinking further than letting them cool down and have fun. Matty is not happy when he changes his clothes, wearing a swimsuit, and goes to join his wife and Ruth down there; finding the messy boys playing inside the pool. He laughs quietly thinking about his mates and him back in the day when they hang out, probably annoying their parents.

Matty really tries to stay calmed and collected, even kissing Y/n to let them know he's the lucky one, not them. Reader laughs because she knows Matty like the back of her hand but doesn't comment on it. She keeps playing with Ruth, entertaining her so she's not all over the boys.

After a bit, Y/n, Matty and Ruth exit the pool, meanwhile the boys keep playing. Arthur's friend, Logan, start with the dares...the first ones are silly and stupid, but they keep escalating. Another of the friends in the group, Jacob, dares Logan to ask Y/n if he can put sunblock on her back or something similar. Arthur rolls his eyes thinking it's bad but not that bad...they're just absolute wankers for him but they're his friends. He laughs along even.

Logan as the little risk-taker he's --being so similar to Matty when he was young and carefree; maybe that's why he hates him the most--, starts approaching Y/n. He breathes a little, realizing Matty is not there.

"Mrs. Healy?" he starts.

"Oh, Logan...what's the matter?" Y/n asks, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand.

"I was wondering..."

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry if this sounds weird but I saw you were lying under the sun and wondering if you had put sunscreen on..."

"I did. Thanks for the concern, though."

"Don't you have to add more after being in the water?" he cheekily asks, without sensing someone is approaching them.

Y/n thinks about it for a split second, realizing he's right. Even though before she can answer. Matty pushes the boy so stand on the edge of the pool, whispering, "You think you're so cool, don't ya' kid?"

The laughter dies inside the pool and Y/n is quick to called her husband, but he's done with all the boys messing with him.

"No, sir." Logan stutters, Matty can feel his body shivering under his hand on Logan's shoulder. He grips hard, preventing he falls.

"If I even listen you talk like that to my wife or I find your eyes on her, I will kick your ass back home and tell your mother about the time I saw you buying drugs. Understood?"

Logan moves his head up and down, although that wasn't enough for Matty.

"Understood, kid?"

"Yes, sir." he quickly answers.

"Good." Matty says before pushing the teen into the water.

Arthur and his friends start laughing hard, specially when Logan comes back up and refuses to tell them about the conversation. The dares stop, they chose another games to play inside the pool.

Matty sits beside Y/n with a smug face.

"You're worse than a child." Y/n scolds him.

Matty quickly pushes his body closer, occupying half of the space on her deck chair. "You love me."

"No when you do this kinda things." Y/n pouts.

Matty gently moves her face so she looks at him. His nose bumping into hers lovingly.

"You're mine, only mine." he whispers for her. And even when she feels a warm sensation spreading on her belly and further down, she groans in protest.

"He's a kid." she half whispers, half shouts.

"Still."

Matty shuts up whatever she was going to say with an intense kiss. Y/n knows the meaning behind his actions, he's never satisfied enough about his statement...he's capable to tattoo her forehead with his name or even a 'Mrs. Healy'.

*****

I hope this is good!! Had fun writing it :)))

#all i need #matty healy fic

35 notes · View notes

thegladelf · 1 year

Text

An Open Heart is An Open Wound 13/?

Guess who's back! *nervous laugh emoji*

I know it's been a while. Life got busy and writing got hard, but uh, we've gone down another Captain Swan rabbit hole and that led to old fanfic and that led to me realizing that I still had at least a couple of chapters outlined. So I dunno if I have it in me to finish this fic, but I'm going to get y'all as far as I can. I've forgotten a lot of what I originally had planned, but luckily I have notes for some of it and the show for the rest. There's at least one more chapter coming after this and I know it's going to make a lot of people happy. (No beta to credit this time, we die like Liam Jones now)

Last Chapter | From Beginning | AO3

Summary: Killian was sent to our world to find a cursed town called Storybrooke, but his quest was derailed when he met Emma Swan. Drawn together by a past that is more similar than either of them realize. For a time, they were family. Then things changed and Killian left to complete his mission. Now, ten years later, Emma has come to Storybrooke and it’s Killian must decide whether he should pick up the pieces. (Alternate universe retelling of Season One.)

Word count: 10.8k

# # #

“Whatcha reading?”

“The Hulk versus Wolverine.”

Killian didn’t recognize the first voice at the end of the aisle, but the second was one he knew well. Not wanting to startle the lad, he ceased his perusal of the baking goods—he knows there are ready made breakfast foods, but he prefers making things from scratch and free of all those words he doesn’t know—peering over the shelf tops to find his son holding up a colorfully illustrated book for the inspection of a girl not too much older. She stood a bit taller than Henry, her hair cascading over her shoulders in golden waves. Her clothes echoed his school uniform, which made sense he supposed, as there was only one school that he knew of in this town and it got out a few minutes ago.

“I’m Ava,” the girl supplied.

As she spoke, someone brushed past Killian drawing his attention. Another child in a school uniform, this one a dark-haired boy with his arms full of toiletries. He strode casually past, seemingly unaware of Killian's presence. Killian noted the care in his step, his suspicion confirmed as the lad crouched down at the end of the aisle, quietly reaching for Henry’s backpack on the floor.

“I think I’ve seen you around school,” Ava continued as her accomplice slipped his items inside Henry’s backpack. “You’re in Miss Blanchard’s class, right?”

The second lad stood quickly, stepping forward. “Almost ready, Ava?”

A flicker of unease flashed across Ava’s face as she acknowledged the new boy. “This is my brother, Nicholas.”

Indecision stayed Killian’s hand for only a moment. He and Emma had used similar tactics on more than one occasion, and from the look of these children, they needed the items. But they were involving Henry in their actions and that he couldn’t let slide, no matter that he had been in their position on many occasions. Hadn’t he often nicked things while good, polished Liam distracted the cart owners?

“Hi,” Nicholas said, touching his sister’s arm. “Come on – let’s go.”

The girl smiled at Henry. “You want to come hang out?”

Henry’s bright reply stabbed at Killian’s emotions as he stepped forward, but the shop’s proprietor was eyeing the threesome with narrowed eyes—though that might just be the continual cold the balding man seemed to suffer from.

“Hold up just a minute there, mate,” Killian said, resting his hand on Henry’s shoulders. With his hook, he caught one of the many loops on Henry’s rucksack, sliding the zipper open to reveal the stolen goods. “I don’t think you want to be going anywhere with these two until they’ve returned these things.”

Ava stared up at Killian, like a rat caught in a trap, her fists balled at her sides. The boy — already halfway to the door — bolted the rest of the distance. His sneakers skidded against the tile floor as nasally challenged Clark slapped his hand over the door.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded of Nicholas. He sneezed and dabbed at his nose with a crumpled handkerchief. “Don’t think I didn’t see you rob me.”

Henry’s lip trembled as he looked at the pair of siblings and despite Killian’s common experience with these waifs, he felt the flare of anger at how they had taken advantage of such a good heart as Henry’s.

“That’s why you were talking to me,” his son accused. “So your brother could put that stuff in there.”

Ava bowed her head, at least having the decency to be ashamed. Her brother glared at Clark, but remained silent.

Clark grabbed the boy by his arm, roughly pushing his toward the counter and his register. “I don’t know who you two think you are—don’t you go anywhere missy, you come right over here with your brother.”

He glared until she obeyed, though it wasn’t surprising, she didn’t seem keen to leave her brother. A trait she shared with Liam, he truly hadn’t known when to let Killian go either.

Clark grabbed a phone just to the side of the register. “I’m calling your parents—all of your parents,” he said, with a look at Henry. “And then I’m calling the sheriff.”

“Surely that’s not necessary,” Killian said. “It’s toilet paper and food stuffs. Certainly you can let it slide so long as the children put it back and promise not to engage in such activities again.”

“Certainly I will not,” Clark shot back. “I won’t stand for thieves in my store.” He schlumped around the counter, yanking the bag from Killian’s grasp. He threw it on the counter with a thunk. Carefully, he unpacked the bag, sneering at Henry’s school books as he called Emma and then attempted to call the children’s parents. From Killian’s side of the conversation, the former appeared more fruitful than the latter. The man tried to dismiss Killian, but as he showed no sign of releasing Henry as well Killian opted to stay.

Besides, he recognized the look in the children’s eyes. They might need a champion to plead their case.

Emma and Regina must have both been in their offices, for they arrived at nearly the same time. Regina’s black sedan whipping into a spot behind the curb, she was up and out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind her, as Emma’s cruiser pulled into the space behind her. Killian bit back a smile at the sight of her rolling her eyes as Regina stormed through the door.

“What’s all this about?” the mayor demanded.

The clerk pulled himself up to his full height, which was still several inches shorter than the mayor. “Well, I’m sorry, Madam Mayor, but your son was shoplifting.”

“That’s a lie,” Killian said. “I saw the whole thing myself. Henry had no idea.”

“See?” Regina said. She grabbed the olive bag, zipping it closed with finality. “We’re going.”

Emma breezed through the door in time to halt Regina’s progress out of the shop. She paused, her eyes sliding over the scene, taking in each person. Her jacket rode up on her shoulders as she propped her hands on her hips, finally zeroing in on their son.

“Henry.” She sounded surprised. “What happened?”

Regina sighed. “Miss Swan, must I remind you that genetics mean nothing.” She spoke forcefully, her arm curling around Henry’s shoulders and drawing him closer. “You’re not his mother and it’s all taken care of.”

Her words made Killian’s blood boil, but Emma didn’t even flinch. Her calm demeanor reminded him of their bargain. Though he wanted to, giving Regina the dressing down she deserved would only strain things between the two and they had Henry to think of. For his sake, there needed to be peace between his mother’s.

“I’m here because I’m the Sheriff,” Emma said, with a sarcastic tilt of her head.

“Oh, that’s right.” Sounding disappointed rather than humbled, Regina stepped back, nodding at the boy and girl. “Go on, do your job. Take care of those miscreants.”

Emma sighed, but said nothing else to Regina as she and Henry left to the chiming of the bell. Ava and Nicholas eyed Emma’s badge warily. Killian found he wanted to comfort them, offer some assurances that Emma would set things right. He kept silent though, it was not his place to make promises for her.

“Did you call their parents?” she asked Clark, fiddling with her keys.

“Uh, the number they gave me was disconnected,” Clark said. With an exasperated huff, he circled back around the counter and started packing the items into a little, blue shopping basket. Though he kept his head down, the tilt of his head made it clear he followed every word of the interrogation.

“Did you guys give Mr. Clark a fake number?”

The children shook their heads.

“Then why’s it disconnected?”

The boy hung his head and tears sprung into the girl’s eyes.

“Cause our parents couldn’t pay the bill,” Ava said, soft and broken.

Emma picked up the nearest item, a tube of toothpaste. She gave the small box far more scrutiny than it deserved. Remembering her own childhood, no doubt.

Emma met his gaze when she looked up, but focused on the children once again. “And you guys are just trying to help out, huh?”

“Please,” Ava whispered. “Please don’t arrest us. It will just make things worse for our parents.”

Clark sighed, setting the basket down on the counter with a thud. He leveled a disapproving glare at Emma.

“The items never left the store, Mr. Clark,” Emma said. “I think you can let it go this once.”

“And what about the next time?” the man asked in his nasal whine.

Killian shook his head. Henry hadn’t found the time to acquaint him with every character in the book—though he suspected that the lad had at last figured out who Mr. Gold was—but they had found a few stolen moments here and there for Henry to acquaint Killian with the people most pivotal with his grandparents' story. He couldn’t imagine anyone putting up with Clark for very long, let alone as long as Snow White and the other dwarves had.

“There won’t be a next time,” Emma said, fixing a stern look on the cowed children.

“And you’ll be compensated for the items,” Killian put in. He fished his wallet out of his jacket pocket, laying out the money that would have paid for the few items he needed. He could manage one more morning of only citrus for breakfast and come back tomorrow. “Ring them up.”

“Hook…” Emma said.

“No, I insist.” He smiled at the children. “I’ve been there a time or two myself. Their intentions are good, even if their methods are suspect.”

Emma smiled at that. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Fine,” Clark said and then sneezed.

The children glanced at each other, their mouths hanging open.

“Thank you, Mister,” Ava finally said. “We promise it won’t happen again.”

With a smile, Killian wondered if she meant they wouldn’t steal again or simply that they wouldn’t get caught.

# # #

“I could’ve taken care of all that,” Emma said as she watched Ava and Nicholas trot merrily up to her squad car.

Killian shrugged, letting the door swing closed behind him and cut out the jingling bell above it.

“My brother and I were very much like them, once upon a time. Though we didn’t have parents to go home to.” He grimaced, closing his eyes like he wanted to shut out a particularly painful memory. It was one of the most concrete details he had ever shared with her about his past. With a scratch behind his ear, he continued, “The kindness of a stranger could have changed both of our lives.”

Emma pressed her lips together. “Yeah, too bad there aren’t more strangers like you out there.”

He snorted. “That’s probably a good thing, Swan.” He threw a flourishing gesture toward the kids leaning against the car. “Would you like some help transporting them back home?”

“I’ll add that one to the list,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“What list?” Killian asked, brow furrowing.

“The list of people you think I can’t handle,” she replied, sticking her hands in her back pockets. Her eyes strayed down the street, eyeing the pawnbroker’s sign swaying in the wind. “Should I put preteens before or after middle-aged men who use a cane?”

Killian tensed. “That is hardly something to joke about.”

“Lighten up, Hook. I know you don’t like the guy, but I think I could take him in a fight.”

Killian grunted, staring so hard at the kids she thought he might burn a hole through Nicholas’ head.

“Hey,” she said. “I don’t like him either. And I don’t plan on looking for trouble. Though if he keeps showing up at work…”

“What?” Killian snapped, tearing his gaze from the children. “When?”

Emma held her hands up, more to tell him to chill out than to push him away. “Whoa. He was there the day after the election is all. Wanted to give me Graham’s jacket.”

“And you’re just mentioning this now?” he demanded. “What did he do? Did he threaten you?”

“Stop it,” she said, aware of the two kids watching not far away. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him a little further down the street, turning him so those flashing blue eyes wouldn’t get the kids all worried. She sighed. “He wanted to congratulate me or whatever. Apparently, my standing up to him was all part of some master plan to get me elected.”

She suppressed a shudder, remembering the silent way Gold appeared at her office door two weeks ago. She hadn’t even known he was there until he spoke and nearly scared her out of her skin.

“Emma,” Killian pleaded, “I need to know things like this.”

“No,” she snapped. “You don’t. Look, your problems with Gold are not my problems with Gold. I don’t know what happened between you two, but until you care to tell me what he did that was so awful, I’m going to handle him based on my own experience. Got it?”

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’ll see you around,” she said, pushing past him.

The kids slid inside the car as soon as she popped the locks, setting the white plastic bag with the groceries Killian had purchased between them. Ava rattled off an address with a speed that stoked the burning suspicion already coiling in her gut.

Emma expected yellowed, peeling paint and maybe a boarded up window, but the house she ended up at was a calming blue and looked well maintained. The yard neatly cut and the steps leading up to the door swept clean. It was in better shaped than Ava in her ratty sweater and Nicholas with his shaggy haircut.

“This it?” she asked, throwing the gear into park. At the kids nod, she unhooked her seatbelt.

“Please, no,” Ava said, sinking into the backseat. Her fingers tightened around the belt buckle. “If our parents see you, they’ll be so embarrassed.”

Emma twisted, her jacket squeaking against the leather seat as she faced the kids fully. “Did Henry tell you about my superpower?”

Ava shook her head. “We just met him.”

“I have the ability to tell when anyone is lying.” Emma softened her voice, trying not to sound too harsh as she met first Nicholas and then Eva’s eyes. “Tell me the truth, money problems aside, is everything okay at home?”

They both nodded too vigorously.

“Yeah, we’re great,” Ava answered, but her words sounded hollow. Rehearsed. “Can we go?”

Emma contemplated calling them out, but thought better of it. Something was off for sure, but she needed to know more before she could decide what to do. “Alright.” She inclined her head toward the door.

Both of them flashed her relieved smiles as they piled out of the car, the bags in their hands. The sun caught Ava’s messy waves as they bounced against her back. The girl turned and waved to Emma from the top step, her smile bright and very, very fake. With a nod, Emma shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. The kids watched her in the rearview mirror, so Emma kept going until she rounded the corner of the street and couldn’t see them anymore.

She parked against the curb and jumped out. Brittle, winter grass crunched under her boots as she crept through a yard, peeking around a bush just in time to see the kids disappear around the side of the house. Emma took off after them, careful to stay just far enough behind that they wouldn’t catch her lurking.

The pelted across a deserted street, leading her through an overgrown yard and past useless, rusting trucks. Finally, Nicholas tossed the bags to Ava and used a trash can to scramble over a fence. The girl did the same. Emma almost went after them, but decided against it, noting instead the dilapidated, white house that appeared to be their true home.

She circled around. The house was old and obviously abandoned. She wondered why it hadn’t been listed in the paper all those weeks back when she had been looking for a home. She probably could have afforded this one too, she thought and immediately scoffed at the idea. Emma Swan was not the type to own a house. Renting worked just fine for her, thank you very much.

Every window on this house was boarded up, but the front door had a simple lock. Biting back a smile, Emma knelt, making quick work of the lock. Dust littered the air when she entered and she suppressed a sneeze. Light filtered in through the old boards, landing on a trap door that led into the basement and the floor creaked loud enough to provide sound effects for the movie Twister. Emma paused, stepping down on the board that protested so loudly, making groan again.

That should do it, she thought.

Quickly, she ducked down a hallway and waited to see who would be the first up from the basement.

Before long, Ava and Nicholas came tiptoeing through the house, Nicholas holding on tightly to his sister’s hand. They missed Emma in her little corner, peering instead into the kitchen.

“Why’d you guys lie to me?” Emma asked, stepping out of the shadows. “Where are your parents?”

The kids spun toward her, eyes wide. Nicholas pressed his mouth shut tight, but Ava lifted her head, a hint of a challenge in her posture as she said, “We don’t have any.”

She knew she had recognized the look in their eyes. Now the questions was, what could she do about it?

# # #

After she escorted them down into the basement—which was in even worse shape than upstairs, despite the furniture crowded together in an attempt to create a home—Emma had the kids gather up all their things and marched them back down the road to her squad car. They went without complaint, both eyeing her warily, but seeming to accept the inevitable.

She knew what she should do. Cases like this were social services business not hers, but every time she looked in the rearview mirror and saw their dejected faces, it reminded her of what would happen to them if she made that call.

“What happened to your parents?” she asked.

“Our mom died a couple of years ago,” Ava, the appointed spokesperson for the pair, said. She fiddled with her hair, wrapping and unwrapping a strand around her finger with frenetic energy. Gone was the calm, cool exterior.

“And your dad?”

Ave just shrugged.

She knew what she should do, but that was exactly what had been done with her, wasn’t it? The people who had handed her from home to home were just doing their jobs. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, what was it Killian had said about the kindness of strangers? Her life could have been so different if even one person had truly cared about her.

So she decided she would care about these kids. She was going to do her best to make sure they didn't get separated. Maybe she lacked any real idea of what to do exactly, but there had to be something.

“Hey, I need to stop by the station real quick to pick up some stuff,” she said, glancing up at them through the mirror. “But you’re not in trouble, okay? I’m going to take you to my house and get you some real food and then we’ll figure out what to do.”

Ava sighed, groping for her brother’s hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.

They opted to wait in the squad car, so she left the keys in the ignition and hopped inside for a few minutes as she searched through the records for anything related to them or their mom. She found a file, an autopsy report, with the name Ava had given her for their mother, but not much else.

The car was still there when she came back out and only then did it occur to her that they could have stolen it. Emma shook her head. Intentions aside, she needed to be a little more careful with these two.

Twenty minutes later found them back at the loft, a pot full of mac and cheese on the stove as Emma and the kids ate. Both children had tucked into their food with relish, shoveling it into their mouths like it might disappear.

“Hey,” she said, waiting for them both to pause and look up at her. “There’s as much of that as you want. I’ll even make another box if you’re still hungry, just don’t make yourselves sick.”

Nicholas swallowed, nodding. They both continued with a little more patience this time. Ava’s fork scraped the bottom of her bowl just as the apartment door opened and Mary Margaret walked in.

“So I hear that—” Mary Margaret froze, gaping at the two kids now sitting at her kitchen table.

Emma’s chair squealed against the floor as she pushed it back. “Guys, this is my roommate Mary Margaret. I need to talk with her for a minute.” She jerked a thumb back at the kitchen. “I won’t eat more than this, so you can have the rest if you want.”

Both kids jumped to their feet, bowls clutched in their hands.

Mary Margaret couldn’t seem to decide where to look. Finally, she said, “Uh, what did you need to talk about?”

Emma pulled her back into the bedroom, the file weighing heavily against her conscience. She knew how many rules she was breaking.

“They need a place to stay for a couple of nights,” Emma said.

“What? Why?” Mary Margaret hissed. “What happened to their parents?”

Quickly, Emma spilled the details of their little adventure at Clark’s store. Her roommate pressed a hand to her mouth as she listened to Emma’s description of the house they had been living in.

“They’re wearing the uniforms from your school,” Emma finished. “Do you know them?”

“I’ve seen them, but…: She shook her head. “I had no idea. None of us did.”

Emma sighed, a small part of her relieved that Mary Margaret hadn’t been close to these two. She didn’t know what she would have done if her roommate had had suspicions about the kids’ home life and said nothing.

“Ava and Nicholas Zimmer.” Emma opened the autopsy file again, her eyes scanning the documents. She saw no mention of the kids, just like she hadn’t found anything about them the first time she read through it. Mom had apparently passed from some form of cancer. “They said their mother was a woman named Dorrie Zimmer. She died a few years ago.”

Mary Margaret fiddled with one of the buttons on her blouse. “And the father?”

“There isn’t one. At least not one that they know.”

“What does, uh… What does social services say?” Mary Margaret asked. She took a step forward when Emma stayed silent. “You didn’t report them.”

Emma leaned in, lowering her voice even more. “I report them, I can’t help them. They go into the system.”

“The system that’s supposed to help,” her roommate countered.

“Yeah, says the woman who wasn’t in it for sixteen years,” Emma snapped in a hushed voice.

Mary Margaret stepped back, swallowing nervously.

Emma pushed on. “Do you know what happens? They get thrown into homes where they are a meal ticket, nothing more.” She peeked behind her again, glad to see the kids settled with their second bowls of cheesy goodness. She caught Mary Margaret watching too. “These families get paid for these kids and as soon as they’re too much work, they get tossed out and it all starts over again.”

“But they’re not all like that.” Mary Margaret shook her head.

“All the ones I was in.”

Pity filled Mary Margaret’s eyes, but not for the kids, this time she directed it at Emma. “What? We’re just going to adopt them?”

And there was the crux of the matter. There wasn’t room here, neither of them were exactly in the position to take on two kids. Emma had no delusions on that hand, she wasn’t even equipped to handle Henry. And Mary Margaret…well, she’d want kids of her own someday, there was no home for them with her. Maybe a few weeks ago she would have given up and consigned them to the system with a heavy heart, but standing in the kitchen she had remembered her argument with Killian. It took him only a few minutes to accept Henry as his son, only a few minutes to demonstrate just how wrong keeping it from him had been. What if Dorrie Zimmer had made the same mistake all those years ago?

“I want to look for their father,” she said. “They don’t know him. He may not know they exist.”

Mary Margaret’s eyebrows shot up. “And you think if he knows, he’ll want them?”

Emma wanted the answer to be yes. But she wasn’t, she couldn’t. Maybe Killian had proved her wrong—and the jury was still out on that one, because he could up and leave at any time—but she didn’t even know if she had ever met this other guy.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Emma wrapped her arms around herself, trying not to think of cold hands and clothes that smelled like trash bag. “But what I do know is it’s hard enough finding foster families to take one kid that isn’t theirs, let alone two. It’s their best shot, or—”

A soft gasp burst out behind her. “We’re going to be separated?” Ava stared at them, her face red and tears in her eyes. Her exclamation had drawn her brother’s attention, he paused, spoon halfway to his mouth, eyes going wide.

“No,” Emma said, too quickly to think about what she was saying. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Please…” Ava’s lip trembled. “Please don’t let it.”

“Emma’s going to do her best, sweetie,” Mary Margaret said, with a hard look at Emma. “Now, as good as that dinner looks, I think it’s missing some dessert. Why don’t you help me bake some cookies while Emma tries to figure this out.”

Ava swallowed, but nodded despite tears still in her eyes.

The kids were reserved the rest of the night. Nodding and answering in monosyllables when they could. Despite all of Emma’s patience, they didn’t know any more about their dad than they told her in the squad car.

She let them take her bed, volunteering to sleep on the couch. Mary Margaret offered the other half of her bed, but that felt too…cozy for Emma. Too much like it meant something, like they were best friends who braided each other’s hair and swapped stories about boys. That made Emma feel guilty, because if it weren’t for Henry she would leave Storybrooke behind and never look back.

The kids didn’t have any real pajamas, they just apparently slept in their clothes and changed the next day, so Mary Margaret unearthed a couple of t-shirts and some sweatpants for them to sleep in. They disappeared upstairs with soft good nights after changing into the new clothes and handing over their old uniforms to be thrown in the washer with all their dirty clothes.

That would be a plus, at least, Emma thought as she tried for the third time to get comfortable on the couch. She remembered many, many days wishing she could do more than air her few outfits. Every now and then, she’d save up enough for a corner laundromat, but clean clothes were a luxury when you had to steal to eat.

Emma wanted to do better for them though. Better than a couple of meals and clean clothes and a night in a warm house. She pulled the blanket a little closer. She knew exactly what nights in that old house must have been like.

She would do better for them. They’re birth certificates had to be at city hall. She could start there. Maybe there would be something on their birth certificate or in the hospital records.

Yeah, there had to be something. She smiled. It sounded like something Henry would say.

She drifted off, thinking maybe, just maybe she could be the kind of stranger Killian mentioned earlier that day.

# # #

Ava nearly cried when Mary Margaret handed her a uniform smelling of Downy. Even Nicholas ducked away when he thought they weren’t looking and swiped at his eyes.

It was odd, having two near teenagers to get up and fed and ready for school all of a sudden and she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have Henry sitting around the table with them. To be handing him a clean sweater and telling him to hurry up in the bathroom. Both children tried to take their time in the shower, but Mary Margaret hurried them along with promises of letting them shower later that evening until the hot water ran out.

They went to school with her, while Emma headed over to City Hall, ready to brave the musty archives and hoping she might find something — anything — to give these kids a chance.

In a rather stereotypical fashion, the Office of Records was in the basement, tucked away down a practical labyrinth. Emma wandered into three other offices before she finally got directions to the right one.

A huge, oak counter stood between her and the rest of the room. Behind it was set after set of library style filing bins, all of them in the same matching wood. Every flat surface was covered in files and binders and odd papers. A man sat amidst the chaos, his attention on a computer that could probably give life advice to the ones at the sheriff’s station. Half bald, with a beer belly and a rumpled button-down shirt, he was oblivious to Emma’s arrival until she called out.

“Excuse me. Mr…” She examined the nameplate and made her best guess. “Krzyszkowski?”

The man let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, it’s Krzyszkowski.” Pronouncing it like there was a ‘v’ at the end, though, there wasn’t. Emma checked. He stood, weaving around a table to get to the counter. “Everyone calls me K.”

“Mr. K,” she repeated, relieved to have a name she would be less likely to embarrass herself saying. “I am Sheriff Swan. I’m hoping to look at the birth certificates of Ava and Nicholas Zimmer.”

He reminded her a bit of a rat, with his beady, dark eyes. If Emma expected some curiosity or blustering, she would have been disappointed. Krzyszkowski reached for one of the papers behind the counter immediately and pulled up a handful.

“Alright, just, uh, fill out this form.” He slapped the papers onto the wooden surface, killing the small, foolish part of Emma that had hoped for just a moment it would be that easy. He lifted an industrial stamper, big enough to be a serious contender in a game of Clue and stomped it down on all three pages. “In triplicate.”

Emma blinked, surprised that it was that easy, despite her crushed—but unrealistic—hopes. The form only wanted basic information, record keeping for who saw what records she assumed, no signing over your firstborn or requests for certification.

“Okay.” She plucked up the first form. The desk had one of those ball-and-chain pens, the swinging chain causing her handwriting to wobble slightly.

“I’m so sorry,” the man said from his spot halfway across the room. He stood at one of the filing cabinets, his fingers still shoved inside a file holder. “Those documents have been recently removed.”

“By who?” Emma asked.

Somehow she already knew the answer.

“By the mayor,” he replied. He examined the one piece of paper that was in that file. “Just this morning actually.”

Of course.

Of course, Regina dug her fingers into this already. It was so like her, to want to meddle in something that had nothing to do with her whatsoever and step in to do Emma’s job when she was already doing it. Sort of.

“Thanks,” Emma said. “I guess I’ll just go see her about those then.” She left the forms sitting on the counter, one of them only half completed.

How had Regina known who to look for? Had she gotten their names before she left Clark’s shop yesterday? Maybe she’d been so offended that the kids tried to involve Henry she meant to give the parents a piece of her mind, or whatever it was suburban soccer mom types gave when they felt miffed.

Maybe Regina had planned to show up on their doorstep with a basket of apples.

Emma snorted at that, but reeled herself in quickly. Laughing would not get her into Regina’s good graces, and she needed to do that if she planned to help these kids.

The receptionist stopped her as she entered. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” Emma said, “but I need to talk with her about the Zimmer case. Tell her that.”

The receptionist stared for a moment, but when Emma didn’t budge, she got up and shuffled into Regina’s office, closing the door firmly behind her. Emma crossed her arms and resisted the urge to tap her foot. The woman returned shortly, the open door she left behind her the only sign that Emma had permission to enter. With a deep breath, she walked into the office, hands stuffed into her back pockets.

Regina shuffled papers on her desk, barely glancing at Emma as she entered. “Don’t worry, Miss Swan. You can relax,” she said, her hand resting on the file Emma needed. “I’ve contacted social services. Turns out these kids are on their own.” She grimaced, as though the thought pained her, though whether that was genuine or an act was hard to tell. “They need help.”

“Which is exactly what I’m trying to do,” Emma said. If they had an equal goal, maybe Regina could be reasoned with. After all, she had no connection to these kids other than their brief contact with Henry.

What did it matter to her what happened to them? “I’m trying to find their father.”

Regina sighed, handing over the file. “Well, he doesn’t exist.”

Emma took the file with a roll of her eyes. “He has to.”

“Well, of course, biologically he exists,” Regina said. “But there’s no record of him.”

Sure enough, where they would have put the father’s name, only the word “Unknown” was written. Disappointment hit Emma solid and low, but she tried not to react. Not in front of Regina.

The other woman fiddled with a pen. “Which means we have no choice.These children need a home, so they will be put into the foster system.”

Any part of Emma that thought Regina’s concern might be genuine vanished at the look of smug satisfaction on Regina’s face. Of course. If Emma was invested in this, Regina wanted to thwart it. And Regina had the law on her side too.

“Storybrooke has a foster system?” Emma waited, already knowing what Regina’s answer would be.

“No, but I’ve contacted the state.” Regina moved around the desk with more ease than anyone wearing a pencil skirt had a right to, speaking in flat, clinical tones. She lifted a pitcher of orange juice — probably hand-squeezed and organic if she was as strict with what she ate as she was with Henry — pouring herself a glass as she explained, “Maine’s group homes, unfortunately, are filled. But they put us in touch with two homes in Boston – a boy’s home and a girl’s.”

The steady thrum of unease that started with the mention of group homes exploded into full-blown dread.

“They’re separating them?” she gasped.

“I don’t like it, either,” Regina said, though her tone was hard to read. “But we’ve got no choice. You need to have them in Boston tonight.”

Emma’s stomach sank to her knees. “Me?”

Regina turned on her, sipping at her glass before speaking. “Well, you wanted to be Sheriff. This is what sheriffs do. Yes, you’re taking them.”

“No,” Emma said with full knowledge that she was being childish. Maybe she couldn’t stop them from being separated, but she would not be the one that delivered them to those homes. She never wanted to be within a mile of another group home for as long as she lived. “I promised them they wouldn’t be separated.”

“Well then, perhaps you should stop making promises you can’t keep.” Regina waited for a moment, her face softening as she approached Emma. “These children need a home. I’m just trying to find the best one.”

“So am I,” Emma retorted.

Regina shrugged. “He left them once. Even if you did find him, that’s not guarantee he’ll want them.” She set her glass down. “I see the appeal of the idea, Miss Swan, really I do. But better a sure home than letting them depend on a man we already know they can’t trust, don’t you think?”

Emma’s grip on the folder tightened. “Fine. I’ll do it. But they get to finish the school day first.”

“A wise decision,” Regina said, smiling coldly. “Best not to make a scene.”

“Madam Mayor.” Emma nodded and headed for the door, the file still clutched in her hand. Her spine crawled. Every step she was sure Regina would call for her to bring the file back, but no such call came. She got out the door and down the stairs and back to the station before she took a full breath, but no one stopped her. No one called her out for a liar.

Not that she had lied. School ran until two, so she had until then to figure something out.

# # #

“Any luck?” Henry walked into Emma’s office and her heart sank.

An odd feeling to associate with Henry. Until now, she hadn’t realized that seeing him usually made her day brighter. His arrival, however, signaled the end of the school day and — since Emma still had no plan — the end of her window to find Ava and Nicholas’ father.

“No,” she said, closing the file she was sifting through. She had all the records from the year Ava and Nicholas were born, searching through for any mention of Dorrie and her possible baby daddy.

Henry dumped his bag and set the storybook down with a thunk, heedless of the mess on Emma’s desk. “I know who they are. They’re brother and sister. Lost. No parents. Hansel and Gretel.”

For just a brief moment, her spirits lifted, until she realized just how ridiculous that was. Henry spoke of fairytale characters and they needed a real life, flesh and blood person. Still, he was trying to help.

“Anything in there about the dad?” she asked, more out of habit than hope.

Henry shook his head. “Just that he abandoned them.”

“Great.” Emma flipped his storybook closed, picking up her last file and heading to stash it back in the filing cabinet. A big bunch of dead ends. That’s all any of this was. “Sounds like a familiar story. Whoever this guy is, he could be in Laos by now.”

Henry followed her into the next room. “No, he’s here.”

Emma scoffed, her natural cynicism apparently untamable today. “Just how do you know that?”

“Cause no one leaves Storybrooke.” He leaned against a desk, tapping his fingers across the dark surface. “No one comes here, no one goes. It’s just the way it is.”

“I came here,” she tossed over her shoulder.

Your dad came here, she almost added, before she remembered she hadn’t told him about Killian yet. That idea made her insides twist. She was okay with Killian knowing about Henry and hanging out with Henry at this point, but every time he even hinted at spilling this secret, ice cold dread seeped into her bones. Sure, Killian was all fatherly and cool with it now, but what happened when he got bored and tired of having a kid hanging around him all the time? Right now, Henry would lose a friend and nothing more.

“Because you’re special,” Henry said. “You’re the first stranger here. Ever.”

“Right, I forgot.” Emma shrugged it off. He might not remember any strangers coming to Storybrooke, but clearly that wasn’t true. She ran her fingers over the files, wishing she knew them as well as Henry apparently knew his book. The cool metal felt brittle as she slid the drawer closed.

For a brief moment, she wondered if there had ever been someone who felt this way about her. One of her case workers, maybe? Someone determined to help, but with their hands tied by laws meant to “protect” her. She wanted to keep looking, but she was out of time and out of ideas.

Henry came around the desk, hopping up to sit on it like he owned it. “Can you tell me about him?”

“Uh.” Emma blinked. “I haven’t found anything about him.”

“Not their father. Mine.”

He stared up at her with wide-eyed innocence, feet banging against the desk as he waited, completely oblivious to the way Emma’s stomach lurched down to her toes. The silence stretched.

“I told you about your parents,” he added, sensing her hesitation. “And now you’re even living with your mom.”

“Mary Margaret isn’t… She’s… Never mind.” Emma sank into the nearest chair, gathering her thoughts. What did she tell him? How much did she tell him? How did she avoid this subject completely? Killian wouldn’t leave him, a small voice said. But she had been so sure about Killian all those years ago and he left her then. He’d promised never to leave her and then he did.

“Please?” Henry begged.

Emma couldn’t say no.

“I was pretty young.” She sat back, pushing her hair away from her face as she thought. “I’d been dodging social services for a year and…” Emma paused, unsure of how much was too much. Henry already knew about her past, did he really need to know about Killian’s? “To be honest, your dad and I weren’t always on the right side of the law. I met him stealing the beetle.”

Henry’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”

Emma grimaced, maybe she shouldn’t have told him that. “Yeah.”

“Cool.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, well, don’t tell Regina you think that.”

Henry leaned forward. “What happened after that?”

“We were…family for a while after that,” Emma said with a shrug. It was true on her part at least. “And good for each other, I guess.” She watched the way Henry’s face lit up, the way his fingernails dug into the cuffs of his sweater, and she couldn’t tell him the truth. Even if she wanted to—she just couldn’t.

“We got real jobs, tried to put down roots. Mine was at this crappy twenty-four hour diner. And your dad, he got a job at the… docks. Long, hard days, but he’d always come in after work to sit with me until I got off.” She swallowed. That part, at least, was true. There had been a few odd jobs and Killian had hung around a couple of those places while waiting for her shift to end. “He’d order coffee and sit at the counter and complain about how we didn’t have pumpkin pie.”

“Did you get married?”

Emma tried not to blush. “No, we just…” Emma had no idea how much Henry knew about sex. He was nine. Was nine too young? Did it even need to be explained for this story anyways? “Uh, we watched each other’s backs for a while and…” She shrugged. “Eventually we grew apart. Life happened. His got better and mine got worse and…”

“And you met that other guy,” Henry said. “The one that got you sent to jail.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Emma said. She closed her eyes against that particular set of memories, breathing deep. More things he did not need to know. More things she did not need to think about. “Before I went, I… I found out I was pregnant with you. And I tried to contact him, and I found out that he’d joined the…army.” The idea of Killian in the military was laughable, but this was a way to kill two birds with one stone. She gave him a sad smile. “He died during the war, saving a wounded soldier. So, you think I’m a savior, Henry? He was.”

Emma leaned forward, taking his hand in hers. She was going to rot in hell for doing this, she knew. But she’d made her decision. This was safer for her son.

“Your father was a real hero.” She didn’t think she had ever told a more blatant lie.

Henry didn’t give her any time to worry about whether he had inherited her superpower. “Do you have anything of his? Something you can remember him by. Something I could see.”

Without thought, her hand went to her chest, habit taking over before she remembered Killian had the necklace now. Emma sighed, feeling a little less for its loss, even with the memories attached to it.

“I… I don’t…” She sat up, the chair creaking underneath her and startling her beautiful, brilliant, ingenious son. Emma smiled. “Henry, I’m sorry. I gotta go. I may know how to find this guy.”

The wheels of her chair scraped against the floor as Emma rolled away from her desk and headed for her office and her keys. It felt like electricity shot through her veins. This would work, she knew it. Her fingers itched to turn on the siren when she slid into the squad car, but that would draw attention and attention probably meant Regina. And Regina would cut this idea off before Emma could even say the word ‘plan’. Besides, it was only two blocks away.

Ava and Nicholas jumped as Emma burst into the apartment. Ava had one of last night’s cookies in her hand and a guilty look on her face as she whirled to face Emma. Both children wore regular clothes. Emma didn’t blame them for wanting out of those uniforms as soon as possible.

“Stay right there,” Emma said. “I have an idea.”

Nicholas blinked at her, then turned around, reaching for the cookies as Emma dashed upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. Two seconds later, she clattered back down the stairs, her old cardboard box in her arms.

Emma set the box on the counter, reaching inside without taking her eyes off the kids. “I want to show you guys something.”

Her fingers brushed soft wool like she knew they would. The blanket made a poor substitute for parents, but some part of her still relaxed a little.

Nicholas sat forward, his stool teetering on two legs. “What’s that?”

“It’s my baby blanket,” Emma answered, holding the small blanket to her chest. “It’s something I’ve held onto my whole life. That’s the only thing that I have from…” The words caught in her throat, for just a second. “From my parents. I’ve spent a lot of time with a lot of kids in your situation, and all of them…” Again, it was painful to admit. Even if they didn’t know her story, that she hadn’t been enough for her parents, she felt like they would see the truth written across her face, like countless children had done every day of her growing up. But she pushed on, because Ava and Nicholas weren’t in this situation because they were unwanted. They were here because their parents hadn’t had a choice. That was all she wanted, to give them a choice. “All of us. We held onto stuff.”

Ava’s eyes were glued on Emma, her eyes wide and lips slightly parted in a look of wary comprehension. She had them. If there was one thing Emma had noticed, it was that where Ava went, her brother was sure to follow.

“I want to find your father,” Emma said, setting the blanket down. She met first Nicholas and then Ava’s gaze. “But I need your help. Is there anything of his you’ve held onto?”

“I might have something.” Ava swallowed, her hand going to her pocket. She stared at Emma, clenched hand still hidden from view. “But if I give it to you, you’ll make sure we stay together, right?”

“Right,” Emma promised without thought. All she needed was a clue. If she had that, she could find their father. And if she found their father, she could keep them from growing up like she did. She could make sure their story was different from hers.

Metal clinked as Ava withdrew her hand. Shiny, dark metal peeked through her fingers, followed by a chain sliding from the pocket.

“A compass?” It didn’t look expensive, the metal a dull gold that barely reflected the light. It was heavier than it looked though. Emma examined it, noticing that the little needle was stuck.

“Our mom kept it,” Ava explained, her voice raspy. “She said it was our dad’s.”

“Thank you.”

She flipped the compass over, searching for some sign of the previous owner. No such luck. Biting her lip, she racked her brain for any other ideas. This was the key. This would lead her to their dad. She could feel it. She just…

Ava interrupted her thoughts. “Did you find them?”

Emma jerked her head up. “Who?”

“Your parents.”

“Not yet,” she said, because a flat out denial felt too harsh for this moment. “But I’m going to find yours.”

The kids watched silently as she examined the compass, trying to think if she knew anyone in town that might know about such things. She traced the outer edge with a finger, following the path of her thoughts.

Mary Margaret came out of her room, tucking the hem of her shirt into a pair of jeans. “Oh, Emma, I thought I heard you.” She smiled. “Are you done for the day or…”

“No,” Emma said, shoving the compass into her pocket. “I had a couple of questions for Ava and Nicholas.”

“Oh,” Mary Margaret sighed. “Well, Henry will be disappointed, he was planning to come hang out while he waited for Regina to get off work.”

“He knows this is important,” Emma said, hand on the doorknob. “Tell him I’ll see him later.”

The door swung open with a slight creak and Emma could practically hear her roommate adding WD-40 to her mental shopping list, but she didn’t stop to think. She let it latch behind her, pounding down the stairs and onto the street. The squad car’s engine revved to life and she was halfway down the street before she realized where she had decided to find her answers.

If she had been less desperate she might have turned around and figured out another option, but she needed someone who knew this town better than she did and a nine-year-old with a storybook just wasn’t going to cut it.

Few people roamed the streets at this hour. A couple of kids walking home from school, a bike messenger, an elderly couple out for a walk. When she got to the docks, it grew a little more crowded. The harbormaster stood outside his shack, debating hotly with someone. Several bundled up fishermen unloaded crates from a trawler. She pulled up to the curb near where Killian had indicated his ship was...parked? Anchored? Moored? She wasn’t entirely sure what the word was. The fishers paused, glancing over as she got out of the car and slammed the door behind her.

“Afternoon, sheriff,” one of them called.

Emma waved, feeling self-conscious and scanned the boats.

“You in the market for a boat?” he asked, grinning. “Looking to expand the sheriff’s department to the high seas now?”

“No,” she answered. “Just need to talk with a friend.”

“Odd place to look, considering none of those have been away from the docks in years. Nobody owns them far as I know.”

Emma turned to him, a cold fear coiling in her gut. “Really? My friend said he lived on one of these. The, uh, Miss Guided.”

She almost winced at the name. Almost. But she was too busy worrying over whether Killian had lied to her. A cold sweat broke out over her skin, despite the stiff breeze blowing in from the ocean. She never had accepted his offer to visit his boat, so she had no proof. He could have made the whole thing up and be living on the street for all she knew.

“The Miss Guided?” The fisher got a strange look in his eyes, like he was trying to read fine print, but his eyes refused to focus. He bowed his head. Then his gaze snapped back up to Emma’s, his pleasant smile returning. “Ah, yes, Hook’s little boat. I’d forgotten he moved her so he could keep up with these poor unfortunate souls.” He gestured to the many boats with sails furled and gear packed away, looking forlorn. “That’s her right there.”

For a minute, Emma expected to find Killian standing where the man pointed, but the deck of the ship he indicated stood empty. There on the side curled the words Miss Guided. Clearly, she and this fisher had different definitions of the word little, because Killian’s boat measured at least thirty or forty feet. Despite her complete lack of knowledge about most things seafaring (Killian had talked about a thing or two, once upon a time, but she remembered very little of that), she could see the difference between this boat and the others.

Killian’s boat gleamed, the railing reflecting the sun and the deck a pristine white. The sails weren’t edged in gray or yellowed by the sun. And while the deck was tidy, it was in a thoughtful, useful way that gave the boat character instead of an air of abandonment.

Knees shaking, she approached. She didn’t like this, going to him in his territory, no matter that she had a gun. Killian wasn’t a physical threat to her, she couldn’t ever see how he would be. But she still remembered the way her heart sped into overdrive when Henry asked about him and the way she chickened out instead of telling her son the truth. Killian’s hold on her emotions, even after all these years, scared her far more than any other threat he could ever present.

She could shoot him. She couldn’t shoot her feelings.

“Hello,” she called out. “Hook?” Her feet faltered. A little dock extended away from the main dock down the side of the boat, providing access to a set of somethings that couldn’t decide whether they were steps or a ladder. Emma eyed the boat. Could she board without permission? The expanse of water between that little dock and the side of the boat looked awfully wide. “Hook?”

“Swan?” came a muffled reply. A moment later, Killian’s head popped up from under the deck, startling Emma. He quickly scaled the rest of the way up to the deck, concern clouding his features. “Is everything alright? Is it Henry?”

“No,” Emma said quickly, pushing down the guilt that flared inside her. “I just needed your help with something.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. Killian smirked, leaning up against the side.

“And what,” he asked, consonants snapping, “might the lady be needing help with?”

“Stop it.” She glared at him, though if she was mad at him for coming on to her, she couldn’t feel guilty so maybe she shouldn’t complain. “Look, I’d rather not shout it at you so either you come down here or…give me permission to come over or whatever you nautical types do.”

Killian chuckled. “Oh, things aren’t so formal on this little thing.” He gestured for Emma to make her way down the finger dock. “Though ‘permission to come aboard’ is the typical greeting. Keeps the jumpy ones from running you through with a sword. Here, grab this.” He leaned down, indicating a steel cable stretching taut above them. The metal bit coldly into Emma’s palm. “Yes. Now just step onto the gunwale. One foot and then the other right there.”

Emma did as he said, taking the hand he offered as she stepped off the dock. Killian smiled.

“Good then. Now you can step over,” he said, indicating the cord that ran the length of both sides. “We’ll make a sailor out of you yet.”

“Maybe some other time,” she said. “Look, you remember those kids from yesterday?”

Killian nodded, eyes dark. “Aye.”

“They’ve got no one.”

“I thought that might be the case,” he murmured. “You said you needed my help? How?”

“Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Emma expected Killian to lead her to a bench or something, but instead he led her to the back of the boat and down a cramped set of stairs. It opened up just a little once they were below deck. Enough that Killian could stand without hunching at least. The living quarters too were neat and tidy. No choice really, with the limited space beneath. There was a small kitchen along one wall and a set of cushioned seats along the other. All the way at the front was a triangular little bed, just big enough for one, maybe two people if neither of them were Vikings.

It was nice. Cozy.

Killian shifted nervously. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

Emma shrugged. “Coffee, I guess.”

She glanced around, absorbing the small details. He had been reading, if the book lying face down on the bed was any indication. Not much lay out and about, but neat as Killian was, some of his personality shone through. The tiny pictures on the wall above the couches. The dark, earthy color of his blankets. A towel hanging on the outside of a door near the stairs. The bathroom she supposed.

Killian puttered around, pulling out an old kettle and turning on the stove. The rotten egg scent of propane clouded the air.

“Afraid making coffee is a bit more complicated here than at Granny’s,” he said.

“Well, it’s a step up from the bug,” Emma replied. “At least this place has a stove.”

“Stinks to high heavens though,” he grumbled.

“But at least you’ll know if there’s a leak.”

Killian turned to the cabinet, pulling out two mugs, one at a time. “There is that.” He leaned against the small counter next to the sink, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Now, what’s this about Ava and Nicholas?”

Emma brought him up to speed, detailing everything that had happened since she drove off yesterday. Well, not everything. Clearly he wasn’t interested in the odd little details, like her sleeping on the couch or what she wore to bed. On second thought, he was probably interested in that last one. Killian listened thoughtfully, nodding every now and then without interrupting. By that time the coffee had finished brewing.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said when she finished. “I fail to see how I can help.” He handed her a mug. “Afraid I don’t have any cream.”

“Sugar?” she asked.

In answer, he flipped open another cabinet and handed her a little ceramic jug.

“Thanks,” she said, dumping a few spoonfuls into her coffee as Killian shook his head.

“It’s not meant to be drunk that way,” he grumbled.

“What are you? A Starbucks barista?” Emma retorted.

“A what?”

“You know, Starbucks. Coffee? I know we’ve been to a few…” She shrugged.

“Ah, yes.” He scratched behind his ear. “I suppose I’ve been here so long I’ve forgotten there are places other than Granny’s to get sustenance.”

Emma nodded. “She does make a mean grilled cheese.”

“Now, what assistance were you counting on, Swan.” He cast his eyes around the small hold. “I’m afraid I haven’t much room to harbor a couple of strays, but I suppose…”

“No, nothing like that.” Emma wrapped both hands around the mug, glad of the warmth. She had no idea how Killian stood sleeping in this place. Even with his mound of blankets. They were gloriously messy, as though he had been cocooned in them before she intruded on his afternoon. “I’m trying to find their dad. From what Ava’s told me, he probably doesn’t know they exist.”

Understanding dawned on his face. “And this…father...you think he might take them in?”

Emma shrugged. “I hope so.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone low. “For all you know, they were simply too young to remember him running out on them.”

“No,” she replied. “But it’s worth a shot. I mean, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to want to be involved either and you surprised me. I figured if you regretted running off…”

“Maybe he would too.” Killian swirled his drink, seemingly lost in the dark liquid. He took a sip, swallowing it with some difficulty. “How can I help?”

Emma pulled out the compass. “This is all they have of their father.”

With one reach Killian set his mug down on the little counter and took the compass in his hand. He turned it over, just as Emma had, caressing the smooth back with his thumb.

“A bit banged up,” he said. “But good workmanship.” He tapped a fingernail on the front. “Crystal. Jeweled setting. Quite the detail. Not your ordinary compass.”

Emma sat forward, hands clutching her coffee. “Is there anything else you can tell me about it?”

Killian shook his head. “I’m no expert. I simply know how to use the device…or I would were it working. Perhaps if you tracked the maker or the man who sold it they could tell you more.”

“Well, unless you see something I missed, I think finding whoever made this is a bust,” Emma said, taking the compass back from him. She pressed her lips together, noting how he fidgeted only slightly—his fingers tapping against his thumb while the rest of him stood stock still. She knew the answer to her next question before she even opened her mouth, but she asked it anyway. “Do you have any idea who might sell something like this?”

“You mean who might buy family heirlooms for pennies and then charge through the nose at resale?” he ground out. “Aye. Unless these children had a compass maker as an ancestor, this likely passed through Gold’s hands.”

Emma stood to leave, but found she wasn’t exactly sure what to do with her coffee. She wasn’t entirely sure she could just dump it down the drain in the sink. That felt a little rude anyways, considering she still had half a cup full.

Killian sighed, lifting the mug out of her hand. “I take it we’re paying a visit to the Crocodile.”

“The what?”

He snapped his mouth shut, eyes widening. “Nothing. Let me grab my jacket.”

“Oh no.” Emma held her hands up, the chain slapping dully against her wrist, halting him in his tracks. “I’m sheriff, this is my job.”

“And I’m a concerned citizen,�� Killian shot back. “Mostly about you and the number of deals you’ve struck with Gold.”

“I can take care of myself, Killian,” she said. Tucking the compass into her pocket, she got her foot on the first step before Killian’s hand closed around her elbow. Gentle, but insistent.

“Please, Emma,” he said. “You don’t know him like I do. At least let me come for that, I might catch something you don’t.”

Emma sighed, but she couldn’t deny the very real fear in his eyes. There was a darkness to that fear, but it was true fear. Part of her should have been worried about what would happen if Killian and Gold ended up in the same room with only her to stop them, but she couldn’t dismiss the way anxiety coiled in her gut. Gold had been willing to risk injuring her and Regina to get what he wanted. Maybe Killian’s fear was justified.

“Fine,” she said. “But whatever issues you have with Gold, leave them at the door, okay? I won’t let you mess this up for these kids.”

He rocked back on his heels, his face thoughtful. Then he nodded and plucked his jacket up from among the blankets on the bed. Emma didn’t look behind her as she ascended, but she stopped short as she realized she wasn’t entirely sure how to get off the boat without ending up on her ass.

Killian chuckled as he passed her and it irked her how well he still read her. He winked. “Same as getting on, only in reverse.”

Easy as you please, he took hold of that same cable, quickly stepping over the line running down the side, and stepped down onto the little dock. He turned to her with twinkling eyes and held out his hand.

Emma gritted her teeth and followed him, doing exactly as he had done and stubbornly refusing to take the offered hand.

“See,” he said, apparently unflustered by her rebuff. “Nothing to it.”

“Come on,” she said, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “We’ve got work to do.”

#kau #captain swan #cs ff #cs au #cs fanfic #cs crew #henry's dad!au #i know it's been so so long #i'm a terrible person #this chapter has been sitting on my computer for six years #heh #my bad?#there's at least one more chapter coming tho #which has also been on my computer since 2017 #again a terrible person

24 notes · View notes

mppmaraudergirl · 2 years

Note

A Perspective Flip for IR or CL, perhaps? Would love to see some scenes from Lily's perspective. Specifically harry and James interacting in IR.

I know you had a direct IR request but here is where my brain went...

It's unfair how handsome he looks—how handsome he is.

Unfair not because she wants him to be less handsome or change in a certain way, but because it makes her all the more nervous on their date.

Their first date. Or rather, first date redone.

When she stares at him she gets caught up in the wondering. Wondering how she felt that night, seventeen, full of giddiness and anticipation, so caught up in her feelings for a boy she fancied that she didn't mind breaking several school rules. Wondering how quickly she had fallen for him then to not be able to wait until Hogsmeade for a date. Wondering how she felt when she was asked out on what was—what should have been—her last ever first date, and could she possibly have known the boy across the picnic blanket would one day be her husband?

The only thing that breaks through the wondering is the butterflies from the here and now. It is almost worse. How can she have butterflies on a date with the man she lives with? Who sees her daily? Who shares her bed?

Does he feel them too? Or has time settled them, set them free in place of something softer, constant, unwavering... like love?

(There is no doubt—there has never been any doubt—that he loves her. It radiates from him; she sees it in every look he gives her, in every touch, in the morning sunshine and in the evening moonlight reflected in his eyes, in the words he speaks and the ones he doesn't.)

Then she wonders, or hopes, that maybe butterflies never leave; maybe they just change flight patterns....

They return home at her insistence when the butterflies are swarming wildly from the intoxication of mead consumption and James.

They fumble together through the darkness, touching and kissing, perhaps similar to the eagerness they had at seventeen. Tumbling onto the bed together, his kiss sets the butterflies swarming again, faster and faster until she feels like her whole body is humming from them, from him.

He asks to taste her for the first time (that she can remember anyway) and she has no hesitancy in saying yes. Then, inevitably, he asks if he can remove the barrier she's been keeping between them.

A wave of insecurity hits her, pulls her under the surface of her own mind. Her body is unlike what she remembers. Larger in some places, stretched in others, and it's hard enough to look at her own naked body and see past the flaws. How can she expect him to?

Part of her knows it's a foolish thought. His desire for her has been clear and sometimes painfully so. Yet she knows if she lets herself think too long, she will never get to experience the full force of that desire and the pleasure she knows will come with it.

She vocalizes her concerns and insecurities, nervous at what he'll say, even though she knows she shouldn't be.

How easy it is for him, she can't help but think. How easy to be certain, to know you love someone enough to see past the flaws that they can't?

She hopes she'll get there again, to a woman secure in her own body. Until then she is grateful for the man who shows her the way.

#in retrograde #ir missing scene #ir lily POV #in retrograde spoilers #writer asks!#thank you thank you #❤❤❤

36 notes · View notes

dissonantia-goddess-of-chaos · 2 years

Text

Creamy Pie: [?] a short stack, hot pawg, milf shaped big top clown with a big butt, thighs, DD sized chest, and some pudge on her stomach. Her face is covered with cheery and bright makeup, red lipstick covering her big lips, red and blue eyeshadow covering her eyelids, and fluttery long lashes completing her bedroom eyed look. Her short curly bob cut has a rainbow style to it, with a small top hat on top with a daisy on it. Her style of outfit is a white ribbon pink corset with red hearts over the breast plates, baby blue suit with twin tails and a big blue bow on the back, a white neck ruffle with small bells around the edges, a frilled and wavy lavender skirt that barely covers her large rump, puffy white gloves with white ruffles at the wrists, pink striped leggings, and black clown shoes. Creamy Pie's humor consists of clean jokes, not-so-clean jokes, and physical comedy that is constantly botched and accompanied with a litany of clownish curses. Despite her large and heavy mass, she can balance herself on the thinnest rope; on the other hand, she can also become heavy enough to squish a human underneath her weight; on the other OTHER hand, landing on her butt from a large height can cause her to bounce up to twice amount the height she fell from - her body refuses to acknowledge the laws of physics. Creamy Pie carries around a large clown bag filled with weapons and gags, such as: colorful juggling pins, knives, a small canon, a large canon that can fit fifty clowns at once, a circus horse that eats humans, a seltzer bottle filled with acid, a small pump and a seemingly endless supply of long balloons, a variety of spring loaded peanut cans, two Punch and Judy style puppets, too many whoopee cushions, rupper chickens that lay eggs, condoms, confetti poppers, bike horn, any type of Killer Klown weapons, unlimited amount of colorful handkerchief chains (used for binding prey and suitors), her own private rainbow clown car, wind up clattering teeth that are secretly bombs, a joybuzzer that goes a little bit too far, a small ribbon umbrella, a stripper pole, and flavored lubricant. Her powers consists, but not limited to: producing cartoonishly large bombs at will, produce and hide any item that fit in her cleavage (expect a hidden spring loaded boxing glove), Is a master contortionist and escape artist, Can lift anything as long as it would be comical for them to be able to lift it, Can become completely immovable ala an Immovable Rod, produce acid pies at will, Can swallow and regurgitate anything smaller than the circumference of their ruff, create nearly any object (with full functionality) out of balloons, Can shrink to fit into a pocket or grow to the size of two elephants standing on each other’s shoulders, and is disturbingly....sexy? Her personality is a complete 360° from Stilts-Legs - confident, joyful, and full of pent-up horniness. She does go around to harvest prey and wreak havoc on planet earth, but will still find time to get down on some "dirty business" with the sultry native men and women. Great friends with Miss Stilts-Legs and the other clowns. Can immediately go from "PG-rated children's party clown-for-hire" to "cl*ssy banana slut" in seconds. [?] (Killer Klowns from Outer Space)

↑ She laughs similar to this. ↑

Miss Stilts-Legs: [?] a 9 ft tall, french mime clown that is completely flat, with long legs, arms, and fingers. Tall face always with a somber expression and depressing black makeup. Her long and straight black hair reaches halfway down her back. Wears a black and white striped shirt, long black pants (that make her appear to have extremely long legs that could be mistaken for stilts), black suspenders, white gloves, and black heeled booties. She can stretch any part of her body out of proportion as far as a hundred miles. Miss Stilts-Legs rarely goes and kills or harvests anyone because of how depressed she is, so she mostly stays near or on the ship capturing unwanted visitors. As a mime clown, she is capable of forming invisible physical objects that function regardless of anyone’s belief, including weapons and containers. Despite her sluggish and downer personality, she has many friends, including Creamy Pie, and is willing to lend a shoulder to cry on. She is oddly the most sympathetic Klown towards humans. Can only speak through grunts, sighs, and groans, with few hand gestures. [?] (Killer Klowns from Outer Space)

Fizzie-Poparolli/"Fizzie": [5 1/2] An actual baby Klown that the rest of the group takes care of. She has chocolate colored and curly hair in small "swirlie" pigtails, ice cream themed makeup (light brown upsidedown cones on her eyes, pink circles on her cheeks with rainbow sprinkles on them, small cherry-shaped heart lipstick) and poka-dot root beer float dress (white poka-dots on a brown top and frilled white bottom), adorable blue eyes, toddler sized, and has a plush-felt "three-scooped" sundae hat on her head. She has her own room in the big top space ship, decorated in ice cream and circus themes: a bed in the shape of a large bowl of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream swirled together with whipped cream pillows, dark chocolate blanket and a banana plushie, colorful walls and carpet, lamps with cartoonishly designed circus animals, a tall bookshelf of children's books surrounded by three recliners and beanbags, a large toy chest filled to the brim with all sorts of toys. Even as a small infant, Fizzie carries her own set of "weapons", such as a small squeaky hammer, a toy klown gun that shoots water/acid, pie plushies that are secretly landmines, cupcake bombs, three layer cake filled with explosives, a toy klown gun that freezes people or turns them into ice cream, bouncy rubber juggling balls that can penetrate through human flesh and solid material through sheer force if it gains enough momentum and speed and can only be stopped if a Klown catches it, balloons filled with toxic helium that can lift her up in the air, a bike horn that can summon hostile circus animals, a sippy cup filled with cotton candy juice, a bib, a binkie, bags of candy, goody bags filled with Klown popcorn, her own hand puppets, a wind-up elephant toy that shoots fire out of its snout, a bag filled with stolen ID cards and money, a rocking horse on wheels that she can drive around on, a man-eating pony, and small boxing gloves. She has to be breastfed or bottle-fed by Creamy. [?] (Killer Klowns from Outer Space)

#oc #pink #purple #cyan #original character #killer klowns from outer space #killer klowns oc #I'll probably draw them later #open to rp #18+ rp #female clowns #clowncore #clown art #clowns #clown #clownery #clown girls

9 notes · View notes

wyllzel · 2 years

Text

nct star trek au elaboration 👀 / these are just my thoughts and initial reasoning, and the whole thing is open to interpretation!

tl;dr don’t give anyone a phaser except yuta LMAO

COMMAND DIVISION (aka 127)

Taeyong as Captain: If he can lead a 20+ member kpop group, he can lead a giant research spaceship (probably). Also, one of Kirk’s biggest strengths as captain tends to be his compassion, which I reason TY could fulfill nicely!

Johnny as First Officer: In TOS, Spock takes on the role of both FO and Chief Science Officer, but uhhh Spock is a (half) Vulcan and Johnny is Johnny, so he just gets FO (with much respect to Johnny) 😆 Probably he just steps up as TY’s backup / picks up where TY is unable to and otherwise chills on the Bridge 😋✌️ and posts on space Instagram lol

Taeil as Navigator + Haechan as Helmsman (Pilot): Genuinely. I just think giving HC control over the entirety of a giant research spaceship would be very funny. And I think Taeil giving him directions off Google Maps (with extra math and physics) while he does so would be hilarious. I think many hijinks would ensue, which is only proper for ST. Also Sun & Moon inverse Sulu & Chekov... so true...

Yuta as Chief Tactical Officer: I would not hesitate to put a phaser in YT’s hands. Also he looks pretty epic in the new High&Low movie, so I think that those skills would definitely translate into ST AU. Altho, I think most of what he’d be doing is like, fire lasers from the spaceship?? Still, pretty epic. He’d make it look cool.

Doyoung as Records Officer: 😭 Sorry m8 you’re doing the paperwork LOL 😭 but also I think he’d take this opportunity to come up to the bridge as often as possible and bother TY which, again, would probably be extremely hilarious 😆

Jaehyun as Materials Officer: 😢 okay I am a bit sorry for this one, but also I wasn’t sure where to put him... And I didn’t want to put too many “action” people, because at its core, ST is about respectful ‘discovery’/science and idealism, NOT action (*side-eyes Abrams*) :/ so he gets to do inventory LOL which I hope he would enjoy (also would YOU trust JH with a phaser?? much to consider...)

Jungwoo as Quartermaster: Idk I just feel like it’d suit him, he just gets to take care of everyone’s little outfits LOL important, low-stakes job with little action and a good amount of people interaction...! I think he’d be very good at it!

SCIENCE DIVISION (aka Dream)

Mark as Chief Science Officer: Okay I actually feel extremely strongly about this one 👁👁 I am positively CONVINCED that if Actual Markly was not a kpop idol, he’d be a CS major ??? or some sort of typical Asian Dude STEM major LOL I am not sure why it is just the extreme vibes that I feel deeply about. Anyway he’s got a lot of ambition, so I wouldn’t be surprised at him ending up CSO... plus he’s Dream’s leader so I felt obligated to put him there l m a o

Jaemin as Chief Medical Officer + Jeno as Physician: I was watching a recording behind for Dream and someone said ‘Jaemin’s rly regretting not going to med school now lol’ and somehow that stuck with me HAHA similar principle to Markly, he’s got an edge that I’m sure could actually carry him thru med school LOL and idk I’d probably trust Jeno if he were my physician. One time my friend had to get an IV and she hates needles but she didn’t panic bc the nurse was kinda hot lol

Renjun as Physicist: Idk he just looks like he’d study something nerdy like physics :P JUST KIDDING (sort of) he seems like a smart guy and has a pretty levelhead (lol... maybe...) overall... physics is just the vibe...

Chenle as Archaeologist: 😆 I just figured he would choose to study something mildly pretentious but also mildly exciting, but I also wanted it to somewhat match with JS’s so they could be a duo LMAO (but also, if you look at the ranks chart, he outranks JS just slightly which, again, is for peak comedy purposes)

Jisung as Geologist: Again, he’s got to match with CL, but be just slightly unexciting HAHA 😅 Rocks... very excellent... BUT since CL and JS’s fields are pretty hands-on, they’ll likely be on the “away team” pretty often, neatly putting them into unexpected alien hijinks LMAO (again, peak comedy)

OPERATIONS DIVISION (WayV + Sungtaro)*

*yes, i purposely assigned them redshirts 🥲 hahahaha.....

Kun as Chief Engineer: He just seems like he’d be an engineer :’-) plus leadership etc etc... Also, this is Scotty’s position, and just like Scotty, Kun knows everything there is to know about spaceship (real!)

Winwin as Security Chief: Ngl, I have no idea who outranks who btwn WW and YT, but I think YT is more like “shoots spaceship lasers” and WW is more like “shoots gun lasers” ?? Still, I hope their paths cross... WW 100% does unnecessary backflips

Ten as Chief Communications Officer + Yangyang as Deputy Communications Officer: Couldn’t separate Tenyang!! They’re good with languages, therefore, they get to do language stuff 😋 not sure which of them would be more similar to Uhura’s role, but either Ten and YY struggling to communicate with aliens ... lolll

Xiaojun as Section Chief: Not 100% sure what this is HAHA 😭 me when my research is half-assed... but I think he has a security team under his command... Anyway... Just wanted XJ to see some action... I think it’d be a bit funny... “iron nuggets roll out” lolll so true... punch a hostile alien in the face hell yeah...

Hendery as Transporter Operator: Putting HD in charge of a mystical science portal that literally rearranges someone’s atoms from one place to another, usually hundreds of kilometers away or so?? COMEDY!!!

Sungchan as Engineer + Shotaro as Tactical Officer: I tried to give them ensign-level roles since they’re both the “newbies” :’) and as of rn... remain without fixed units... :( ANyway SC would get to work with Kun (whom he seems to be friendly with) but I suspect he shirks duties to go hang out with JW LOL, who wouldn’t be too busy... Shotaro would be working under YT and get to hang out on the Bridge, where he’d (possibly) be able get to know TY & YY 🤔

#chelle.txt #*stnct #can't decide if i overthought or underthought this LMAO #also i didn't want to overwhelm them all in leadership positions so i tried to spread them out and avoid main character syndrome idk #*too much main character syndrome lmao #😋👍

7 notes · View notes

lgcsori · 2 years

Text

nothing new, again

“must i repeat myself for people to remember what i kept repeating?”

...

love wasn’t on sori’s list of important things, at least not for now. she’d had her first kiss, but that was as far as her “love life” had ever come. twenty years and she had not had a single crush on anyone (with the exception of bae nathan, she’s not sure if that’s a crush though), it didn’t go the other way around though. personality wise, sori wasn’t who you’d expect to get a lot of love confessions, but sori was much more than just her personality. she was hard-working, good in studies, good in sports, she was good in pretty much everything, and besides that, she had her good looks. her and her brother might not be biological siblings, but somehow they had both gotten quite good looks, they of course went two different ways with these. her brother was someone who cared much about his looks, and who used his looks to his advantage, sori didn’t exactly mind the good looks, but she minded people asking for her number on the street. she was pretty straight-forward though, rejecting every stranger who thought they had a chance with her. and she was not dumb, she knew some boys in her class liked her. she could hear the whispers from the boys and girls in her class, she just chose to ignore it, as long as they didn’t act on this ‘crush’ she wouldn’t say anything. and because of the first few confessions she got, people were quite careful with giving confessions to her now, it was almost basic knowledge knowing she’d reject you.

why would you confess to someone who is guaranteed to say no? who you know you have no chance with? but well, you won’t know before you actually ask.

it falls out when she opens her locker, her friends are quick to surround her. “what fell out?” doyeon asks, and eunjung picks it up, sori puts her stuff into the locker, ignoring whatever fell out, she hasn’t placed it their herself, so it isn’t hers. “it’s an envelope” eunjung waves it in front of sori, she pushes it away with her hand “it’s not mine” sori says coldly. “open it” doyeon says, sounding much more than excited than sori has ever been about something in her entire life. the envelope is red, a similar colour to a beanie sori wears often, sori closes her locker. sori would’ve just let the envelope lay still on the floor was she alone, but she’s not, and the envelope is opened. “i think it’s a love letter” doyeon says moving super close to eunjung, and it seems like they’re reading it both of them. “pffft” doyeon lets out, “got a crush on sori, but they know her this little? anyone knows you reject everyone” a love letter, sori sighs in her head. “either they don’t know you very well, or they really like you”, “it doesn’t matter, you two can keep that if you want”.

“dear sori, the cha sori. i’ve known you for a while, i remember when you had long hair dyed brown, and i’ve known you for long enough to see that both long and short hair suits you. you’re the smartest in the school, there’s no girl who runs as fast as you. there’s nobody i know that works as hard as you. you’re not only pretty, you’re smart too, and you’re hard-working. if you haven’t been able to tell by now, this is a lover letter, i like you cha sori. please meet me after school down by the tree of life. love, someone who likes you a lot” and finally sori lets the sigh out she had kept in her head. doyeon lets out a laugh, “it’s cute!” eunjung says, “yeah but they’ll be waiting a long time if they’re expecting sori to show up”. “they should’ve confessed to me” doyeon pouts, “you already have a crush though” eunjung rolls her eyes “yeah but--”, and sori snatches the envelope out of eunjung’s hand. “huh?” the two girls say in unison. sori’s eyes skim through the text in a second “i’m going” and she starts walking, “what?!” and eunjung and doyeon hurry to catch up with sori. “you’re really going?”, “yes”, “does the cha sori maybe finally want a partner?” “eeeeeeh--”, “shut up, we need to get to class”.

she enters class, and for a second when she has just sat down she looks around the classroom, thinking who could be the owner to this letter. “what’s that?” sori fiddles with the letter, then looks up to see wooram standing in front of her, leaning on her table. she packs it away “none of your business” she says, “oh come on! tell me! is it a love letter? do you finally have a crush?” she lifts an eyebrow “the teacher is here”, “what?”, “go away wooram, the teacher is here”. she’s concentrated for the rest of the class, studying hard as she does usually, though for a few seconds she looks around again, wonders who the owner of that letter is.

she’s there before whoever sent the letter is. then someone turns up, they begin fiddling with their bag, seeming too nervous to be able to open it. “soo himchan” he looks up, stops fiddling with his bag, “you’re soo himchan, a freshman, so a year under me”, “i--” he starts fiddling with his back again, finding a rose from his bag. “i’ve known you for a while”, his eyes widen “huh?”. “dear sori, the cha sori. i’ve known you for a while. that’s the words you wrote in your letter, we haven’t gone to the same university for long, but… we went to the same high school too, so i assume that’s what you meant with ‘known for a while’. however, we’ve not known each other for a while, the longest conversation we’ve had is probably a sorry when bumping into each other or an excuse me walking past one another. you confess your love to me, without even knowing me, so i’ll reject you without even knowing you” there’s confusion in his face. “i reject you soo himchan”, he looks to the ground, then finally stretches the arm with the rose in it “give that to someone who wants it” she says, then walks past him.

love wasn’t on sori’s list of important things, and she wasn’t planning on putting it on there for a while.

#lgcsori #today you got... SOLO #( update on soris sad sad love life )

2 notes · View notes

sakiaii · 9 months

Text

Armored x Magic girls ‘title forever work in progress’ extra

I had this fantasy once but it does not belongs anywhere in the story.

it's more like a trailer showing all characters from all eras xD

There's a huge army of monsters and just a handful of riders facing them off. they don't need a reminder why only a handful of them is facing this army but for audience it's said so we know how they're here to slow the army as villages are being evacuated. it's a suicide mission and they are prepared to make that sacrifice as they charge 1/10th of this army that was sent to take them on. suddenly you hear a dragon off in the distance over the trees followed by bells and then drums and riders leader is now shouting retreat as well as the enemies army. retreat, in formation, change formation, in formation can be heard. the camera is placed so it will only catch the horse stomping the ground as it passes by and at the same time a boot as someone runs in the opposite direction. enemy soldiers are holding spears when one of them is attacked by a hawk and then flies away as that soldier gets smacked by his own trying to hit the hawk and then magic rains down on them and on the ground soldiers charge them as hawk joins other hawks in the sky and fly over a hill that now has bunch of people. hawk lands on hand of 3rd series character. queen from 1st kingdom 1st era is there. their sorceress already doing the shield the soldiers teamwork tactic. dragon lands next to 2nd kingdom and we see ruler from 1st era, next to her are 1st era ancient vampire lady and grey beard wizard with cane and on the left Crimson Dawn and further down left Oni sisters she gives a nod later and that's a sign for werewolfs to charge from the forest and attack from the left. jumping and standing on the trees Oni give a signal too and attack. 3rd kingdom is there with aircrafts landing and bringing out robots as their elite is already on the battlefield doing their signature attacks with team white joining on discs. canon crack on the sky as we see flying ships descending from the clouds and witches on brooms flying by and striking army from air as they fly by. on one ship some girl already shot from her gun at high distance and now ties rope around her leg and jumps head first cuts the rope and lands on the ground, starts walking but someone stepped on the rope part still around her leg stopping her and as she sees her captain aiming at her with a flintlock he shots the enemy behind her giving her a smile as she removes the tied part and starts attacking the enemy. magical creature is also flintlocking enemies with a barrage of magic shots.

other scenes involve armored girls individually doing attacks with magic users that have similar attacks like dragon armor's electric dragon or phoenix armor and her fire bird attack. 2nd era 1st story groups show up doing their thing (didn't mention it then but one was only part werewolf so here a werewolf just smells her like she smells funny) (i also didn't mention iron staff earth witch thing was also blizzard attack so she and character that wasn't important for 7th series but had the same attack are doing it together). now as we hear trumpets on the left the character i also didn't talk about shows up with a goblin army and her thing was also fire bird. troops far in the back just standing there see snow falling as arrows fall down and we see on the right a man on a horse, giant and wolf next to him and archers behind and from the left again xD cavalry knights in shining armors and there is a big focus on their shields crest.

and now the sun darkens as enemy soldiers still waiting far in the back look at what's casting the shadow and see an army standing in the air and they panic and start bumping into each other trying to escape. only one girl descends down after commander gave the signal BOOM and she's already back as this army is flying somewhere else and of in the distance a mountain is cut in half.

in the end we see 2 cloaked women (Gabriela and Irene) just walking next to each other through the battle around them as if invisible.

100% sure i forgot to mention a detail or few just now xD

A bit added to this is a scene where a father closes the book his little girl is reading and says how this are spoilers as he puts the book back on the shelve in the middle and says how each book is a journey towards that future and he picks the first book giving it to her smiles and leaves but the girl picks up the other one again and just takes a short peek in before returning it and in that peek we see surrounded by black smoke hard to see Raven armor and then the eyes light up.

another that does not belong anywhere had a old retirement castle for wizards getting attacked. old grandpas and grannies made attacking monster question their life choices with their attacks but there was another incoming problem so the castle send out the beacon. now some small 2 kingdoms not big or important enough to play a part in any of the stories are fighting each other when a dragon, bells and drums are heard. 2 opposite leaders rush to meet and now the situation has changed as they're saying we'll take the bridge and you go down there and if we find out before you what's going on we'll send messenger. it is because the 3 kingdoms are now known protectors of world of magic that when they sound the alarm you know something big is going on.

another that does not belong in any series but happens before series 9. it had a castle actually a school being attacked by monsters and Irene drops from the sky wearing her cloak but also her old green uniform. she just stands there but monsters are being attacked and you see her shadow is moving really fast while she is standing still. after she defeats the boss and starts moving towards the bridge leading to castle the principal has everyone go inside "why" because "there is a reason why white and green uniforms were retired"

and why i don't want to include the 5th kingdom in 1st era final battle and why i do xD first it would be nice to find out who the 2 mysterious people from 5th series were og i did not know, plus it would pave the way to 3rd era as 5th's king and 1st's queen were secretly in love ergo why he was helping despite their no interference oath. and why it would be bad.. well first things first. the scene starts as queen is joined on the battlefield by delegation which arrival stuns everyone, queen bows to them with her hand on chest saying "the heart needs to be protected" and they do the same. no other words are exchanged as delegation just observes. when the battle is over a dragon can be heard and the queen as well as the 2nd kingdom dragon are shocked but the queen was more shocked and could barely walk muttering "no...what have you done" tears going down her face as she repeats "the heart needs to be protected" clutching her arm to her chest as the delegation say "a heart was protected today" "but our oath never specified which heart". now Gabriela rushes and teleport away and sees another battlefield and 5th kingdom is really powerful tossing the enemy left and right, up and down xD as white dragon lands and a man walks towards her she falls to her knees and with the hand on chest actually shouts "the heart needs to be protected!" but the man says the heart was indeed threatened today but this monsters largely underestimated them as we see now a scene from their kingdom where monsters entered but were instantly defeated by remaining guardians. in my opinion this diminishes the struggle they went through to achieve this victory. the roles 3 kingdom played and Irene saying how it was easy and enemy only gave them what they wanted.. there was clearly an ambush which 5th kingdom dealt with and they're the most magic powerful kingdom in the magic world. idk i just feel it takes away from their accomplishment that day in original version i mean we even had people coming from future to help idk..

#AxM #eighteenth post #18

0 notes

jackzillanyanut8008 · 1 year

Text

Star Wars Force Awakens Rewrite

Author’s Note:

This rewrite is completely fan-made. I ,Stone CL Williams, am not the creator of these characters. They belong to George Lucas, Lucasfilm Entertainment, Lily and Mikaila Orchard, and Disney+ Entertainment. I am not claiming any of these properties of my own. In the event that I do otherwise, I will take full legal responsibility for the misuse of these characters. Please support the official creators and there content. Thank You

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1: Prologue

Jakku. A sand covered graveyard of destroyed star ships from the battle that ensued roughly 20 years ago. Varax looked out along the desert atop his speeder, the sun beating down on him like a wave. As he stared out amongst the lifeless desert, he noticed a starship fly overhead. The ship was roughly the size of a star freighter, and looked very similar to the ships used by the First Order. “Damn fascists” Varax mumbled under his breath as he hopped onto the speeder and headed towards Niima Outpost.

He sped through the desert, eventually reaching the settlement where he headed to Unkar Plutt’s to give him a heads up about the ship he’d seen earlier. But, oddly enough, Plutt’s top scavenger was there negotiating a deal with the ugly bastard. “For the last time girl one quarter portion, or nothing at all” Unkar said with a grunt. As Varax walked up to Plutt however, a woman stopped the scavenger and offered a better deal. Much to Unkar’s dismay. As the two walked off, Unkar scoffed and returned to his work “Hey boss” Varax called out “Ah Varax, finally something good can come out of this damn hellhole” Plutt said as he walked out of his shop for a smoke break “You usually aren’t back this early, what’s the occasion?” He asked, taking a puff from his pipe. “Caught a freighter outside the outpost. Looked old and beat up, and Imperial too” Varax said as he sat down next to the dealer. “Imperial? Obviously the desert’s fried your brain kid. The only Imperial ships here are derelict wrecks of an age gone by” He says with a laugh and a cough.

“Fair. What’s the deal with the girl anyhow?” Varax asked as he took a drink from his canteen. “Who, Rey?” Plutt asks as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke. “Yeah, she’s usually pretty loyal to ya since she’s started living on the old walker in the desert” Varax explains wiping some sweat from his brow. “Beats me” Plutt says as he takes another puff out of the pipe “The Dantoonian Girl though, she’s trouble” Plutt says with an exhale “Rumor has it she works with Lord Niima and the other Hutts in the cartel as a bounty hunter called ‘Darth Amorosa’” he says with a laugh. “She’s got guts pretending to be a Sith” Varax says “I’m gonna head out, thanks for the chat Plutt” Varax says as he cowls up his hood and walks off

First the ship, now a possible Sith here… I’ve got a bad feeling about this…

Chapter 2: An Unlikely Ally

Varax sped through the desert until he’d seen it: A Sith Interceptor. He’d only seen them in holodocs after leaving Luke’s order, it looked familiar but he shrugged it off as he docked his speeder in front of the ship as he saw Rey walk out with a bag of rations. “Uh Hi?” She says to Varax as he inspects the ship. He was right, it was old. REALLY OLD. Older than most ships he’d seen since… No, forget the past, don’t let it consume you he thought to himself before he walked up to Rey “Sorry if it looks like I’m tailing you. Wanted to make sure this old tub isn’t First Order” Varax says as he hits a panel before it hits the desert floor…. Directly onto his foot “Ah Kriff! Fucking ship!” He cursed under his breath. “Smooth Scav-boy, what’s next you’re gonna plant your head in the sand like a senator?” A voice says from the ship. Varax looks up and realizes it was the girl from the market. She looked like she was from Dantooine, based on the tattoo on her lips. “Yeah yeah” Varax says as he winces in pain “I just swang by to check on the ship, not everyday you see a Sith Interceptor…”. The girl chuckles as a 2V Droid exits the ship “Lady Amorosa if you don’t mind me asking, who is this” he says pointing at Varax. “My thoughts exactly 2V, who are you stranger?” she asks as she exposes a lightsaber hanging off her hip.

Varax sighs and removes his hood, his black hair blowing through the desert wind. “My name is Varax Koslov, former Jedi Master” he says as he pulls out his lightsaber and ignites its dual cyan blades as they crackled like lightning in his hands. Amorosa tensed up a little, as if a ghost had passed through her. But before she could say anything she and Varax felt a shift in the Force as the three of them looked up to see a First Order Dreadnaught appear out of hyperspace. Dropships and a Flagship headed towards a village to the east. “2V prime the ship!” Amorosa orders the droid as he races to the cockpit to start the vessel “Right away Darth Amorosa” he chimes as the ship begins to lift off. Rey accompanies them as they head to the village

Varax knew who was here, he knew who was on that flagship…

The Grandson to Darth Vader…

And Luke Skywalker’s former apprentice…

Kylo Ren.

Chapter 3: Hope Within Death

As the crew landed outside the village, Rey was sickened to her core. Bodies littered the village left and right, homes were in flames, and a Rebel X-wing was blown to pieces. “Who could’ve done this?” Rey asked the 2 Force sensitives as they looked for survivors amongst the dead and burned. “The First Order” Amorosa says as she turns over a corpse expecting something besides death. Varax nods in agreement, Rey is still confused, “First Order?” she asks not knowing of the tyrannical group. “Leftover parasites of the Empire, a bunch of fascist, racist, power hungry bastards who only wish to spread pain and suffering all over the galaxy” He says angrily. Rey lowers her head, “Is there anything we could’ve done?” She asks her strange friends. “No” they say, almost at the same time.

Suddenly a BB droid comes running at the trio, sounding of a battle cry of beeps and whirs as it charges at Amorosa. “Oi! Watch it you metal bastard” she reprimands the droid before it pulls out a shock stick and zaps her leg. “WHY YOU-” Amorosa says as she tries to kick the little droid before being cut off by Rey and Varax “Ali stop it! He’s obviously angry at someone else, don't hurt him!” Rey says as she kneels down to the droid. “I’m sorry about my friend, she can be a bit temperamental, my name is Rey. And this is Varax and Aliana” she explains to the BB droid. The droid gives out a series of beeps and whirs. “He says the village was attacked by the First Order, and that a warrior named Kylo Ren took his friend, a pilot named Poe Dameron, his name is BB-8” she translates as she looks back to the droid. “Listen, it’s too dangerous out in the desert at night, especially for a droid like you, how about you stay with us for the night and we’ll go after your friend in the morning?” she says, talking to the droid as if it's a little child. BB-8 looks down for a moment before giving an affirmative beep as he rolls to the Fury.

“Rey will take the guest room, Varax you get the couch” Aliana explains as the 4 of them enter the ship. Varax was thoroughly impressed by how well the ship was maintained, especially for its age. “How long have you had this thing?” Varax asks as he plops down on the couch as BB-8 rolls next to him “It’s a family heirloom, 2V and I have lived here for as long as I can remember” she says as she presses a button on the dining room table, revealing a huge family tree of humans, the earliest dating well over 1000 years ago. “Damn, this must be some heirloom, either that or that family tree is WAY off” Varax says as he kicks off his boots as lies down on the couch. The padding feeling like a 6 star hotel mattress on Canto Byte. “Ah that's the spot” he says as he closes his eyes and drifts into unconsciousness.

Chapter 4: Finn or Foe?

Varax tossed and turned as he dreamt. He was walking through a great hall on a forest planet. Endor’s Moon? Kashyyyk? It didn’t matter what he did see was the mask of Kylo Ren and the hum of his lightsaber before waking up in a jolt.

Rey and Aliana were eating stew of some kind as BB-8 was pacing around the ship. “Morning” he says as he gets up and grabs a bowl of stew from the pot. The scent of spices and meat made his mouth water “made it myself” Aliana says as she grabs a spoonful for herself. Varax gives her a look of doubt “A Sith cooking for a Jedi and a scavenger? I’m either still dreaming or dead” he says as he sits down and starts to eat as he looks over at Rey, whose cheeks are nearly bursting due to how full they are. “Ali’s the best cook ever!” Rey says as she swallows the mass of stew with a grunt. “Easy their Rey, no need to make yourself sick” Aliana says as she grabs the 2 empty bowls in front of Rey. Rey chuckles “Yeah you’re right” she says as Aliana sets the dishes in the sink and heads to the cockpit.

As the 3 enter the cockpit, a TIE fighter whips past them and collides with a sand dune and lands next to an old Star Destroyer. “What was that!?!?” Rey says as she grips the door frame as the ship shakes from the turbulence. “Looks like we’ve got us a First Order TIE Fighter” Varax says looking down at the wreckage. “Should we check it out?” Rey asks “It could be Poe” she adds. BB-8 gives out a series of supportive beeps before the ship gets swallowed by a vortex of desert sand.

“Well, if that Poe guy’s in there he’s dead… sorry little buddy” Varax says to BB-8 sympathetically. BB-8 lowers his head and beeps sadly. “Hang on whose that?” Rey asks, pointing at someone next to the wreckage. The crew look at the camera footage of the wreck and its lone survivor: A dark skinned stormtrooper carrying a brown leather jacket. BB-8 gives out a series of angry beeps as he takes control of the Fury and sets it on a collision course. “What the hell are you doing you idiot!?!” Varax yells at him. BB-8 responds with a series of beeps. “He says that the jacket belonged to Poe!” Rey exclaims trying not to fall on any controls as BB-8 recklessly flys overtop the Stormtrooper and lowers the landing gear, rolling out of the ship and charging at the survivor. Shocking him and running him over while giving out the droid equivalent of a raging war cry.

“BB-8 Stop it let ‘em go!!!” Varax yells as he grabs the droid before pulling a blaster pistol on the Trooper. “What's your name Buckethead?”

(Chapters 5-9 are coming soon)

#star wars rewrite #star wars #the sith resurgence #lily and mikaila orchard #disney #lawrence kasdan #j. j. abrams #Michael Arndt #George Lucas #rey skywalker #ben solo #finn sw #poe dameron #kylo ren #aliana beniko

1 note · View note

regenderate-fic · 1 year

Text

When I Run Away (You're Who I Run To): Chapter 11

main post read on ao3

Word Count (Chapter): 2,567

NOTES: pretty much all the reddit usernames in this chapter are from esther fab_wolf_in_the_gloom some of them are doctor who related but at least one of them is straight-up one of his usernames 2. if anyone is interested i made a collection for fics featuring disability/disabled characters, anyone is welcome to add their fic in there. i'm going to add stuff to the collection's bookmarks too. it's called time and relative disability in space and i've added this fic to it too so if you click the read on ao3 link you can find it there (right now it's. mostly my fics. for i guess obvious reasons. but i would really really love to see more).

Finally, after two days of almost non-stop interaction with Rose and Penny and Donna, Yaz was alone. Or, not quite alone— Monday night was when she had her aerial silk class, a hobby she’d picked up a few years back after she’d said something about wanting to build her strength again and Rose’s friend Shireen had suggested she try aerial. She had gone more or less on a whim, but she’d enjoyed it way more than expected, and now it was a grounding point of her week. She knew everyone else in the class, at least in passing, and she liked how the classes pushed her body, forced her to become comfortable with herself.

Today, though, she could barely focus. She went through the motions of the class, but she could feel she wasn’t pushing herself like she usually did— too much of her mind was occupied by the sudden, freight-train-like realization that she had feelings for Rose Tyler. It felt sudden, out of nowhere—

Except… there had been some warning. Like the dream Yaz had had a week or so ago. Or even just the fact that she’d been willing to share a flat and a business with Rose, when normally she got annoyed after a few hours with any one person.

She couldn’t bear it. Rose had been right about her liking girls this whole time, and of all the possible ways in which Rose could have been right, this had to be the absolute worst. If she’d figured it out any other way, she could’ve talked to Rose about it, and she would’ve gotten a bit of needling for it, but it would’ve been okay. But if Rose was the girl she liked— she sighed. She couldn’t even tell Dan. She didn’t think she could bear the way she’d feel if she had to face the knowing look in his eye as she told him.

The second she got home and through the shower, she pulled out her computer. Surely there were other people on the planet who’d gone through something similar. Right? But when she opened the search engine, she realized she had no idea what to type. She was not going to be the kind of person who put am i gay? into Google and started taking quizzes. (Anyway, Rose had already gotten her to take a bunch of those quizzes, mostly for fun. Yaz’s results had been inconclusive, but she’d also been way too self-conscious to be anything like definitive in her answers.) But anything else she could type felt like too much of a confession, even just to a search engine. She almost yelled in frustration, but of course Rose would hear if she did that, and then she’d want to know what was wrong, and the whole problem was that Yaz couldn’t tell her.

Finally, she typed in, in love with friend? Up popped article after article claiming to know what it felt like to fall in love with your best friend, what to do if you fell in love with your best friend, how to tell if your best friend was in love with you. Yaz clicked a few, but they weren’t telling her much— most of them were clearly just written to get clicks, and the advice was overwhelmingly geared towards straight women. But Yaz kept scrolling, clicking through various pages, until finally she wound up on a Reddit page, reading story after story of people’s relationship issues. It did, actually, make her feel a bit better: at least she hadn’t found her partner on Tinder, or had anyone post compromising pictures of her on social media.

She was about to close the page, and then she hesitated. She couldn’t talk about this with Rose, and she definitely couldn’t talk about it with anyone who knew Rose, which eliminated Penny and Bill, and she couldn’t talk about it with Dan, either. But maybe an anonymous post, to an anonymous forum, would help.

She started typing.

I (30F) might be in love with my roommate (29F). What am I supposed to do? - u/throwRAjustgoodfriends

Okay I'm going to try and keep it vague because I REALLY don't want this to get out. Basically, for the last few years I've been living with this girl Lily (fake name). We met at work eight years ago, and we recently opened a business together. I consider her my best friend, and she considers me hers. For context, Lily is openly bi, and she’s dated a few people (men and women) since we’ve been friends.

Recently, things have gotten kind of weird. I've always identified as a heterosexual woman (Lily’s been trying to convince me I’m into women for years, for what it’s worth, but I honestly thought she was projecting), but I haven't been dating much in these last few years. I thought it was because it's so hard to find decent men, but last week I found out that a bunch of our friends thought we were together, and this morning Lily and I were staying over at our friend’s place and I watched her wake up and suddenly it was like she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And ever since then I haven't been able to stop thinking about her, and I think I'm starting to act really weird around her, and she knows me well enough that she’s going to notice any change in behavior. What do I do? I’m terrified of ruining this friendship— she's been my rock for the last eight years. Like, pretty much my entire adult life. I never had a friend like this before her. Help?

Before she could talk herself out of it, Yaz hit post. She closed the laptop and climbed into her bed, trying to pretend she wasn’t thinking about what it would feel like to have Rose here with her.

By the next morning, she had almost forgotten about the post. It was only when she reached for her hairbrush on her desk and caught a glimpse of her laptop that she remembered. Instantly, she was hit with a wave of complete mortification. But she forced herself to open the computer and load the post anyway. She already had a few comments.

Comments (sort by: New):

u/silurianagelovesong: Ok so how does she act around you? Like is she touchy with you, is she friendlier to you than anyone else, does she smile more around you, etc?

Yaz had to think about it.

u/throwRAjustgoodfriends [OP]: I don’t know. I mean, of course she’s friendlier to me when we’ve been best friends for years. Same for the smiling. She’s touchy, but she’s just kind of like that. Like she’ll sit in the same chair as me or whatever. But she’s always been that way, it’s not really a big deal anymore.

It wasn’t long before two replies popped up.

u/silurianagelovesong: …always been that way with you, or always been that way in general?

u/throwRAjustgoodfriends [OP]: I haven’t really been keeping track. I don’t think there’s anyone she’s as close to as she is to me, though.

u/silurianagelovesong: 🤦‍♀️

u/cleverboy123 [4 awards]: hey OP are you sure you and this girl aren’t already dating

u/throwRAjustgoodfriends [OP]: YES.

The next comment was even more concerning.

u/oswinftw: Hey jsyk depending on where you live you might be common law married. Like if you live together and your finances are mingled and people see you as a couple.

u/lesbianarachne: That’s not how common law marriage works. You have to actually know you’re married for it to be valid. And most places have gotten rid of it.

She typed her answer quickly, and got a response almost as fast.

u/throwRAjustgoodfriends [OP]: Huh? We’re in the UK and I’ve never heard of this.

u/profsong: That’s because it’s not a thing in the UK. You’re fine.

u/mrpond: I thought it was in Scotland?

u/profsong: Nope. They abolished it in 2006.

u/mrpond: Huh. Good to know.

It was the third comment, though, that nearly gave her a heart attack.

u/pennyintheair [31 awards]: not vague enough i’m showing rose

u/throwRAjustgoodfriends [OP]: WAIT NO YOU CAN’T DO THAT

I’M COMING OVER RIGHT NOW

FUCK

u/silurianagelovesong: LMAOOOOOOOO

Yaz barely had the presence of mind to put shoes on before running out the door and across the street, thanking a God she barely believed in that Rose hadn’t woken up yet. She burst into the bakery, still in her pajamas, startling the few early-morning customers.

Ace was at the counter. She looked up. “Hey, Yaz! Coffee?”

“Er— not right now,” Yaz said. “Where’s Penny?”

“Donna said not to tell people where Penny is,” Ace said, her face the picture of innocence.

“Ace, you— I came up with that rule!” Yaz shouted.

Ace shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. All I know is she’s not in today.”

“Right.” Yaz walked right back out the door and into the stairwell to Penny’s flat. She marched up the stairs and banged on the door. “Penny, I know you’re in there!”

The door opened a minute later, Penny’s wide-eyed face poking through the gap. “C’mon, Yaz, you’re really going to make me walk all the way to the door? In my time of vulnerability?”

Yaz rolled her eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me, Penny.”

Penny pulled the door further open. “Fine. In my defense, it’s really boring, resting all the time.”

“You need your rest,” Yaz said. “And you don’t need to be antagonizing me on Reddit.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t need to be making a Reddit post about how in love you are with your best friend,” Penny pointed out. “To a sub with literally millions of users. I mean, honestly. Did you really think no one you knew would see it?”

“Oh, God.” Yaz swallowed. “What if Rose finds it?”

“C’mon.” Penny pulled Yaz into the room. “Was joking about you making me walk all the way to the door, but I do actually need to sit down now.”

Yaz followed Penny over to the kitchen table. “I should delete the post,” she said as she sat down. “Was stupid of me to even make it. I just didn’t know who else to talk to— I mean— everyone else knows Rose, and I couldn’t face Dan, and—”

“It’s all right,” Penny said cheerily. “Saves you the trouble of having to talk to your friends directly, doesn’t it?”

Yaz buried her head in her hands. “That’s not what I was trying to do.”

“Yeah.” Penny grew more serious. “I know.” She reached a hand across the table to rest on Yaz’s arm. “It’s going to be okay, though.”

“Is it?” Yaz groaned. “Penny, I can’t lose this friendship.”

“You won’t lose it,” Penny asserted. “C’mon, Yaz. You know how much you mean to Rose.”

“Do I, though?” Yaz shook her head. “I mean, I know she— I know I matter to her. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be weird if I’m in love with her.” To her dismay, she felt tears rolling down her face.

“Would it still be weird if she liked you back?” Penny asked.

Yaz shook her head again. “She doesn’t, though. I mean— there’s no way. She’s always talking about asking out other people.” Of course, the only person Rose had talked about asking out lately was Penny, and Yaz wasn’t exactly going to share that. “Penny, I don’t— I don’t know what to do here.”

“Well, do you want to tell her?” Penny asked, very practically.

“No,” Yaz said immediately, the word coming out with force. “I mean— I don’t think so. Everything is finally so— so perfect, with the shop and our flat and everything. I don’t want it to change.”

“But—” Penny paused, frowning in concentration. “But what the change is for the better?”

“There’s no guarantee it will be,” Yaz said.

Penny raised her eyebrows. “And we’re talking about the girl who regularly makes the active choice to sit directly on top of you, yes?”

“That’s just how she is.” Yaz waved a hand. “It’s always been like that with us.”

Penny’s eyebrows shot up even higher. “Yaz. Has it been like that with anyone else?”

“What do you mean?” Yaz asked.

“Like—” Penny waved a hand. “Look, I’m not the greatest with this sort of thing, all right? But if you say you and Rose are always like that, it bears asking if Rose acts like that with anyone else.”

“She used to be like that with Mickey,” Yaz said. “Ages ago. Back when we’d just met.”

“Mickey?” Penny asked.

Yaz sighed. “Her ex.”

Penny raised her eyebrows.

“She doesn’t—” Yaz faltered. She’d been about to say Rose didn’t have any other close friends, but that wasn’t true. She was still close with Shireen from her secondary school, and she had a few other work friends she went out with sometimes, even though they hadn’t worked together in years. Rose had always had an easier time than Yaz, socially speaking. Yaz thought back. Was Rose as physical with Shireen? She wasn’t sure. Rose had no problem slinging her arm around another girl’s shoulders, but usually if she was with someone else and Yaz, Yaz was the girl whose shoulders her arm was around. So there wasn’t much opportunity for comparison. And that made sense, didn’t it? Everyone knew they were a pair.

Oh.

Everyone knew they were a pair.

Yaz looked at Penny. “Okay. Maybe you have a point.”

Penny rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Yaz, you’re denser than one of Ace’s bagels.”

“Ace makes bagels?” Yaz asked.

“Not very well. We're working on it.”

“All right, fine,” Yaz said. “You’ve proved your point.” She groaned. “Still don’t know what to do about it.”

“You could always talk to her,” Penny suggested. “Honestly, Yaz, I can’t imagine it’ll go badly.”

“It’s too much of a risk.” Yaz sat back in her chair. “I don’t know. Maybe— maybe once I’ve had some time to process.” She looked at Penny. “You’re not actually going to show her the post, are you?”

“Nah. I was just joking.” Penny shrugged. “Like I said. Resting’s boring. Perfect opportunity to mess with one of my mates falls in my lap? You can’t blame me for taking it.”

“I think I can, actually.” But Yaz was smiling. She checked her watch. “Right. I’d better get back.”

“What, Rose wondering where you’ve been?” Penny teased.

Yaz glared at her. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Because we’re business partners.”

“Right.” Penny dragged out the word. “Just business, then?”

“Screw you.” Yaz stood up. “I really do have to go. I’ll come back after work, if you like. Rose too, probably. Make your life less boring.”

“Sure,” Penny said.

“But you can’t say a word of this to Rose,” Yaz added. “God, I hope she doesn’t see the post.”

“My lips are sealed.” Penny mimed a zipper across her mouth. “Can’t promise the same of Reddit, of course.”

“Ugh.” Yaz shook her head. “Whatever. I’ll see you later.”

“Later.”

Yaz went down the stairs, turning towards the bakery. She might as well grab coffee, if only so that when Rose asked where she’d gone she had an answer. Besides, it would be good for her to have a moment to collect herself before going back across the street.

With a deep breath, she pushed open the door, only to see Rose’s silhouette at the counter.

1 note · View note