#oh I probably should add they all use she/her except ellas who uses he/she and kallisto he/him

[supercorpkid]

Once Upon a Time in…

Storybrooke.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Emma Swan x Reader, Regina Mills x Reader, Snow White x Reader, Prince Charming x Reader.

Word Count: 2900.

Previously on the series - Neverland, Camelot

“So we’re back at square one.” You sigh, looking at Henry, while he is reading his enormous book.

“Not entirely true. We know that we have to lift the curse so you can leave, and that we have to do it fast before you become a character of the book.” He says, without raising his head at you. You’re almost arguing when a plate with at least 20 pancakes is placed before you. That stops your mind mid-rant.

“Thanks, Granny.” You smile at her, who smiles back before leaving. “Except that we don’t know who cursed the town, so I might as well embrace my fate of being a fairytale character right now and forever.”

“You know, there is another way.” He finally looks at you and you encourage him with an eyebrow raise. “Too risky and honestly? I don’t even know if they would agree to it…”

“Would you go on with it already? No need to build up the climax, we’re already past that.”

“Another curse.” Henry says and you furrow your brows. Having two curses surely doesn’t sound like the solution. “A liftable curse, of course.”

You just blink at him when he doesn’t say anything for a while.

“Ok, what if my mom cursed you into believing you’re a part of the story? You would be written into the book-” You open your mouth to argue. “But it comes from someone who knows and can undo it. So, when the time comes, she lifts the curse and you’re not in the book anymore.”

“Uh.” You think about it for a second. “Sounds like it could work. It would be like if we had a countdown watch and after your mom’s curse it would just pause it.” You say and he nods in agreement.

“The protection spell around town gets lifted and she undoes your curse right after. The countdown restarts but you would be ready to leave.” He finishes your train of thought. “Only thing is whether she will agree to this.”

“Well, we’ve got to try, right? Might be our only hope.” You’re almost out of the booth when you look at the pancakes in front of you. “Give me a minute.”

“Can’t believe you’re thinking about food right now.” Henry rolls his eyes at you.

“Can’t believe you’re not.” You say inhaling the food in front of you in exactly one minute. “Ok, I’m done.”

“This was traumatic to watch.”

You ignore him and you both run out of Granny’s to Regina’s house at the end of the main street. You try to go slower so he doesn’t fall too far behind, but you’re still in front of her house way before he gets there.

“Next time, give me a ride.” He is breathing hard next to you but recovers faster than normal. “Mom? Are you here?”

“In the kitchen, kid!” You hear Emma’s voice, and you follow Henry to it. You find both Regina and Emma making breakfast together. The scene doesn’t fail to bring tears to your eyes. It’s too familiar. “Oh, you guys are together, great!”

“We think we have a, well, it’s not a solution. It’s more like a-” Henry looks at you.

“Band-aid.” You give them a forced smile.

“Let’s hear it.” Regina asks and you and Henry do your best explaining the whole thing. “So I would undo the curse and she’ll leave, huh?”

“I know it’s not ideal but-”

“But it’s pretty good.” Emma says. She comes closer to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure about that, though?”

“No. I know nothing about magic.” You shrug. “If this was science or anything related, I would probably be sure, but this is outside my area of expertise. If you two think it could work, then I trust you to bring me back when it’s time.”

“You should know all magic comes with a price.” Regina adds.

“What’s the price?”

“We’ll learn about it later.” She raises an eyebrow at you. You think of Lena and how you need to go back home to see her eyebrow raise.

“I’ll pay.”

“Well, then hold on to it, kid.” Regina says with a smile. “You’re about to become a fairytale character.”

You and Henry look at each other. As good of an idea this was, you didn’t consider all the outcomes. You’ll become a fairytale character; you won’t remember anything about your actual life. You won’t remember your moms, aunts, cousins, girlfriend, grandmas… You know it’s what you have to do, if you ever want to make it out of this reality and back into yours, but still. Not remembering Jamie’s laugh, Maya’s kisses, Kelly’s comfort, Alex’s shoulder squeezes, Lillian’s head tilt, Eliza’s soft voice, Lena’s green eyes, Kara’s smiles, it almost makes you want to forget about this and find another way.

“Ok, the curse is ready.” Regina says and you look up, coming back from your thoughts.

“Smells funny.”

“I know, sweetheart. It's a curse. It's not meant to be pleasant.” She says, making your heart beat faster on your chest. You hold your necklace strongly in your hands; remember your family one last time. Then close your eyes.

“Yay, food!” You open your eyes and look at your moms on the other side with a stack of pancakes in front of them.

“Hey, leave some for your brother.” Regina says, stopping you before you grab all of the apple pancakes she has made.

“Fine, you can have one, Henry.” You joke, putting just one on his plate from the stack in front of you.

“Be nicer, honey.” Emma kisses the crown of your head, before sitting next to you. You smile, putting two more on his plate.

“There, you’re eating just as much as me now.”

“Listen kids, today Emma and I will be working with Mr. Gold to see if we can lift the protection spell around the city. You two will spend the day with the Charmings.”

“Oh, come on, moms. We’re old enough to help!” Henry says and you agree.

“Of course you are. And we will need your help when the time comes. Just, well, you know how is like to work with Mr. Gold-”

“Always an adventure.” You and Henry say in unison.

“Something like that.” Emma agrees looking like she wanted to disagree, instead. “Besides, I thought you had archery lessons with your grandma today?”

“Yes!” You agree, excitedly.

“And Henry, you will be hanging out with your grandpa at the station, right?” She gets his answer in the form of a nod. “Well, great, we’re all very busy today. But we’re still meeting at Granny’s tonight for dinner, ok?”

“Sure thing, mom.” You get up and kiss her head. “See you guys later, I’m late to meet grandma.” You kiss Regina’s head right after. “Bye, mom. Squirt, wanna a ride?”

“Stop calling me squirt.” Henry complains, getting up from the table. “See you later, moms.” He follows you to the front of the house. “Don’t run so fast, I just ate.”

“You know I only have two speed levels. Fast or breaking the sound barrier.” He jumps on your back and out you go, fast enough to be at the station in a blink of an eye. “See you later!”

It doesn’t take long before you and Snow White are walking in the woods close to the city. You love spending time in the woods with her. You love just sitting in silence and letting your senses become even more refined. Sure, you have super hearing, but she teaches you how to focus even on the simpler things. Leaves in the wind, steps in the woods, birds chirping. There’s no other place you feel as in peace as in the woods with Snow.

“So? How are the woods today?” She asks, hand on your shoulder.

“Was there ever a time where there wasn’t anyone in the woods doing weird stuff?” You ask, making Snow laugh loudly next to you.

“Not in Storybrooke.” Snow agrees with a smile and points a direction for you both to walk.

“How do you want to do this?” You ask, putting your bow into position and closing one eye, looking around.

“Like we shall do everything.” You look at her and she winks at you. “Together.”

You miss the shot. You try again. Your arrow breaks. You try again. You lose your temper. You try yet again.

Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.

‘Together’ is the word to live by.

“Mom, can you help me take control of the panic attacks?” It’s late at night when you ask her that. Regina is happy that you’re asking for her help, and you two sneak into her office while Emma and Henry watch Space Paranoids.

“Remember,” She holds you, before she starts. “These are nightmares I’m putting in your mind. None of them are real. You’re safe and sound at home with us. Say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Ok.”

“But sweetheart, you’ve got to fight it. With all the strength and courage I know you have. Concentrate and fight it.” Regina says, and you nod, closing your eyes.

Your mind is filled with visions. Terrible ones, by the way. You see people dying, by shot guns and swords. It’s a war inside your mind. You know it’s not real, but the feeling is the same. You try to run but your legs feel wobbly and weak, and you fall on your knees. There’s a pool of blood under you and when you look to the side you see Henry with glassy eyes, completely lifeless.

“NOOOO!” Your heart starts beating into your ribcage, as you shake before reaching for him. “Please, please don’t be dead.”

“Concentrate. Focus.”

“HE IS DEAD! IT’S MY FAULT!” You yell, with tears wetting your face.

“It’s not your fault.” Regina says in your ear. “Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.”

“HENRY! PLEASE COME BACK!”

“What’s going on?” You hear his voice. Regina has already stopped filling your mind with visions, but still you see his glassy eyes staring at you. “Hey, open your eyes. I’m here.”

You see him. But your body is still reacting harshly to the vision. You cry and shake. You’ve failed, but you’re not the one to back down.

Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.

You’ll overcome your fears.

“Hey honey!” Emma wakes you up, with an excited greeting, and you roll to the side not opening your eyes just yet. “I could really use your help with something.”

“What is it?” You mumble, still too sleepy to talk.

“We’ve gotta help Ella. And I thought we could have some mother-daughter bonding time.”

“You’re my mother. Isn’t that enough of a bond?” You ask, as a joke, and you get a chuckle in response.

“Come on. It would be much faster if you could fly around and find her for me. Otherwise I would have to use magic to find a shoe and then more magic to track her, and then-”

“Oh my God, ok. I’ll help.” You get up and get ready in seconds. “I know you just want my help because I’m faster than the Flash.”

“Faster than a flash, honey.” Emma corrects you. “Let’s go!”

So you find Ella, just before her evil stepmother shoots her, and you stand tall in front of her because you’re indestructible, and your mom uses magic to contain her evil stepmother, and it’s just another day in Storybrooke. You know, for a really small town, there’s always something going on in here.

“Saving the town with my kid.” Emma throws her arms around your shoulders with a smile. “What mother could ask for more?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think being saved probably doesn’t sound so bad.” You complain, getting a tight squeeze from her.

“Sitting around waiting to be saved, with no idea whether someone’s actually going to come for you-” She sighs, loudly. “Trust me, I know doing all the saving all the time sounds exhausting. But waiting around is-is as bad as it can get, honey.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.

Heroism comes first.

“Are you ready?” Snow asks and you agree excitedly. Bow and arrow ready to shoot. You look at her getting in position. “Together.”

You nod, and you two aim at the same spot. Both of the arrows travel together and land side by side in the middle of the target. You smile, excited. “I feel like the Green Arrow!”

“Who’s that?” Snow asks and you look at her furrowing your brows.

“I-I don’t know.” You think and think about how that name just easily left your mouth. Huh. Weird.

Days. Weeks. Months.

“Here comes the town’ superhero!” Emma says when you walk in the kitchen.

“Here is the town’ savior!” You answer with a smile.

“I could use your help out there today, kid!” She widens her smile.

“Doesn’t this town have enough heroes?” You sit next to her, and she kisses the crown of your head, before placing a plate of hot waffles in front of you.

“But only one is super.” She winks, making you giggle in excitement. You’re convinced right away.

Days. Weeks. Months.

“Focus. Concentrate.” Regina says, close to your ear. And you breathe deep trying to do so.

“It's kind of hard when you're talking in my ear.”

“And when the wind blows, or it's raining, or someone's shooting arrows at you. Yes, concentration's hard. That's the point.” She bumps her shoulder on yours. “Sweetheart, you told me you needed help.”

“And I do.”

“Then let me help.” She runs her fingers through your hair slowly. “The world will always throw disappointments, sorrows and pain on our backs. It’s our job to learn how to handle them. I worked very hard for my first reaction to be as Regina and not as the Evil Queen.”

“I know, mom. You said that a million times.” Your answer makes Regina lose her cool a little. And you smile, apologetic. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I asked for help. I need to know how to handle the pain. Please, I’m ready to go on.”

“Close your eyes.” She asks again and you comply. “Are you ready?” You shake your head in agreement.

You see images. Like a lucid dream in your mind. Regina is using magic to alter what you see. And you see destruction, death everywhere. You see Snow’s head detached from her body, Emma bleeding with a sword on her heart, the only thing left from Charming is his hand, still clinging to his sword.

You should be ready by now. In fact, you should be used to it somehow. It’s not the first time you and Regina do this kind of exercise. But it doesn’t matter how many times you see your family bleeding out, totally lifeless in front of you, every single time, without fail, makes your heart beat faster, your lungs stop working, you shake, you start crying and hyperventilating, ready to destroy everything.

“Focus! No fire from the eyes.” You hear Regina’s voice and you come back to yourself a little bit, just to hold back your first reaction. It’s always the eyes.

“But mom is dead.” You cry out, clenching your fist.

“Concentrate. You can do it.”

You can do it.

You kneel before Snow’s head. Breath in while counting to 3. Hold your breath for 3 seconds. Breath out in the same amount of time. You know this isn’t real. Snow is home, and safe. You’re not in the enchanted forest. Nothing here is real.

You unclench your fist. Steadying your breath. You fight the images. Snow’s head goes back to her body. Charming’s hand disappears. Emma opens her eyes.

“You can do it.” You hear again. And you feel the thump in your heart settling back in your ribcage. Beating normal again. Soon enough the entire thing vanishes in front of your eyes. You open your eyes again. Your hands are still shaking a little, but you’re home with your mom, and you’re safe. She smiles fondly at you. “See? I knew you could do it.”

“I did it. I stopped my panic attack.” You say with excitement planted on your face and she hugs you tightly. It doesn’t matter how many months it took you to do so, you still did it.

“How about we celebrate? Guess who lifted the town’s protection spell this morning?”

“Wait, really?” Your eyes widen in excitement.

“Yes! You know what that means?” Regina asks, and you can barely contain yourself, jumping up and down.

“Pizza from the neighborhood city!” You squeak. “Can I go get it? Please mom, let me go get it!”

“Here.” Regina gives you the money. “Bring enough for your grandparents. And Belle. Maybe Hook too. Just anyone who happens to be at Granny’s.”

“So basically the entire city?”

“Basically.” She smiles and you’re almost out the door, when you look back at her and add.

“Did I have any plans for when we could leave town?” You think and think, but nothing comes to mind. “It’s weird, I swear I feel like I’m forgetting something important.”

“Maybe to give mom a kiss?” Regina asks and you smile. Rushing to her and hugging her, before kissing her forehead.

“Yeah, it was probably just a kiss.” You chuckle.

Days. Weeks. Months.

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #supercorpfamily #lena luthor #supercorp daughter #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #ouat fanfiction #ouat #snow white #emma swan #regina mills #swanqueen

[fanfics4all]

Boyfriend For The Night

Request: Yes / No  heyy can you write a draco x reader where they don’t know each other at all but draco theo and blaise are spending some time in the muggle word (maybe with 16/17 years old) and they are casually smoking hanging around and the reader is passing by and is being shouted sexually and followed by some guys and the boys (draco theo and blaise) pretend to be her best friends or brothers and draco her bf so they stoop bothering her and then she sobs and thanks them thanksss Anon

Request are open but ONLY if they’re Halloween <3 Have a nice day/night

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 1401

Warnings: Sexual assault, that should be it, but please let me know if I forgot something! 

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

A/N: Not tagging anyone because of the warnings! 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Draco’s POV

It was Halloween night and Theo, Blaise, and myself decided to go to the Muggle world for the night. It was Blaise’s idea and we just went along with it. He said the Muggle world was very interesting this time of the year, which made the two of us curious. 

“So what do you mean the Muggle world is interesting?” Theo asked. 

“They dress up other people, or things, or animals and go around to people’s houses to get candy.” Blaise explained as we entered the Muggle world. 

“Really? Why?” I asked confused. 

“I don’t know, it’s just a tradition they have.” He shrugged. As soon as we walked down the street we saw exactly what Blaise said. There were so many children dressed as weird things, parents walking with them to different houses, and even some people our age dressed up. 

“How strange.” I said as we continued walking down the street. 

“Let’s get some drinks and ciggies.” Thoe said and we nodded in agreement. We found a small corner shop and each got some sort of alcohol and a pack of ciggies to share. We walked to the opposite corner and just leaned against the wall, minding our own business. There was another group of guys, they looked a few years older than us, about a block or so away. They very clearly have been drinking, maybe not drunk but pretty close to. They were very rowdy and annoying, but they were a bit away so we didn’t really care. That was until a girl who was dressed up as an angel walked by them and their eyes were only on her. 

“Damn sexy, am I dead? Because those wings are heavenly!” One of them called to her. 

“Baby, somebody better call God, because he’s missing an angel!” Another said. She ignored them and kept walking, but they rushed in front of her. 

“Can I get a picture to prove to all my friends that angels really do exist?” One asked. 

“Better yet, just come with us! I can promise we’ll give you a great time.” Another said and grabbed her by her waist, pulling her into his chest. 

“Get off me!” She said and tried to get out of his grip. 

“Come on baby, we just wanna make an angel like you happy.” Another said as she struggled in the other one’s grip. 

“Stop! Don’t touch me!” She cried as they started getting very handsy. 

“Stop struggling, I promise you’ll love it.” One said. 

“Please! Someone help!” She shouted. 

“Come on.” I said and pulled Theo and Blaise in the direction of the scene. 

“Oi! What are you doing to our girl?” Theo asked as we stormed up to them. 

“Your girl?” One of them asked. 

“She happens to be our best friend and my girlfriend.” I said annoyed.

“Oh really?” One asked with a smirk. 

“Really, now you better get your hands off her or you’re going to regret it.” I growled and reached back, clutching my wand. 

“Whatever, bitch aint even worth it.” The guy holding her said and pushed her into me. I held her close and the group ran off. I felt a spark as I held her to my chest. 

“Thank you so much.” The girl said and pulled away from me, the feeling disappearing with her. 

“No problem.” I smiled. 

“I’m Y/N by the way.” She introduced herself. 

“I’m Draco, that would be Theo, and that’s Blaise.” I introduced the three of us. 

“What unique names, well thank you so much for saving me again.” She said. 

“Why were out here all on your own?” Blaise asked. 

“I was on my way to a party, my best friend is meeting me there.” She answered with a slight blush. 

“Maybe we should escort you there.” I offered. 

“You three could come to the party if you’d like.” She said with a smile. 

“A party sounds fun.” Theo said. 

“Yeah, better than just hanging around.” Blaise nodded in agreement. 

“You got yourself a deal, love.” I said with a smirk and she blushed. 

“Well, then follow me boys.” She said and led the way to the party. On the way we got to know each other a bit more and she was actually very sweet. God my parents would kill me if they knew I was hanging out with a Muggle. 

When we got to the party it wasn’t much different to the ones in our world, except there weren’t magical drinks or things flying around. So it was a bit boring. 

“Y/N/N! There you are, you were supposed to be here like half an hour ago!” A girl dressed as a devil said walking up and hugging Y/N.

“Yeah, sorry, I got into a little trouble.” Y/N said and then the girl looked at the three of us. 

“Who are these guys?” She asked, looking us up and down. 

“Oh, these guys are my best friend and boyfriend apparently. This is Theo, Blaise, and Draco.” She introduced us. 

“Sorry, what?” Her friend asked. 

“Long story short, these three saved me from a bunch of guys that were trying to do things.” She said and I noticed her shiver. 

“What? I knew I should have just gone with you!” Her friend said with wide eyes. 

“It’s fine, really, I’m lucky they were there.” She said and flashed us a smile. 

“Oh sorry, this is my best friend Ella.” Y/N introduced her to us. 

“Lovely to meet you, Ella.” Theo said, immediately starting to flirt. 

“Oh, I’m assuming you were the boyfriend to Y/N?” Ella asked. 

“No actually, Draco was.” Y/N said with a giggle that made my heart skip a beat. 

“Lovely.” Ella smirked. 

“Come, let’s get you all drinks!” She added and dragged Theo with her. Y/N grabbed my hand and pulled me along while Blaise followed behind. 

It's been about two hours since we got to the party and it was actually more enjoyable than I thought it would be. Y/N and Ella were very fun to be around and Theo especially though Ella was fun. Blaise was enjoying his time just dancing and drinking. Y/N was drinking quite a bit and I’m pretty sure she was already drunk. 

“You know Draco, you’re very very cute.” She said with a slur. 

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, love.” I said and tried to take her cup from her. 

“But it sooo good!” She said with a cute giggle. 

“Maybe we should get you home.” I said. 

“Awww, you’re leaving?” Ella pulled away from kissing Theo to ask with a frown. 

“Draco’s probably right, maybe we should get you home too.” Theo said to her. 

“I’m staying here tonight, Y/N has to go home though.” Ella said with a small giggle. 

“Perfect.” Theo smirked. 

“Right, well I’ll take you home.” I said standing up and offering Y/N my hand. 

“I’d love that!” She said and stood up. She lost her balance and fell into my chest. 

“Careful, love.” I said and she giggled. 

“Why? I’m completely safe in your arms!” She said and I shook my head with a smile. 

“Come on.” I said and pulled her out of the rowdy house. 

“Where do you live?” I asked and she smiled. 

“45 Guild Street.” She answered. 

“So Dracy, how long are you in town?” She asked. I smiled at the nickname that I would normally grimace at since Pansy is the only one that ever called me that, but it felt nice coming out of her mouth. 

“Theo, Blaise, and myself go back tonight, a few hours actually.” I answered and she frowned. 

“When will you be back?” She asked. 

“Not sure, honestly.” I said and she bit her lip. 

“Maybe next time you’re back we could go on a date?” She asked and I blushed slightly. 

“Alright, next time I’m back I’ll take you on a proper date.” I agreed and she smiled so bright. 

“I’ll be waiting, boyfriend.” She giggled and kissed my cheek as we reached her house. 

“Now, go get some rest, love.” I said and kissed her forehead. 

“I’ll try, see you in my dreams.” She giggled and winked as she went inside. What in the World did I just agree to? Date with a Muggle girl? I must be going mad...

#harry potter imagine #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x fem!reader #draco malfoy x fem!reader #draco x muggle!reader #draco malfoy x muggle!reader #draco x muggle girl #draco malfoy x muggle girl #fanfic #request #Halloween #Fall #autumn

[welllpthisishappening]

All Was Golden in the Sky (23/27)

Magic is dying.

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

To New York City.

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

—

Rating: Mature AN: Everyone is an exceptionally bad royal. 

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

Elsa calls a council. 

It’s incredibly proper and entirely royal, a meeting of minds and titles and probably a few more adjectives that are less complimentary because, it seems, when those minds and titles get around a table in one of the rather large halls in the Arendelle castle, they are incapable of agreeing on much of anything. 

David keeps mumbling diplomatic under his breath. 

“Do you think it’s possible for Regina’s face to get stuck like that?” Emma mumbles, leaning to her right and Killian has to bite his lip. It’s distracting. 

He glances at her, not much more than a passing look, but there’s amusement mixed in with the blue in his gaze and Emma lets her hand reach forward. Her fingers twist around the curve of his hook, cool metal that’s almost enough to center her because, really, this council has been nothing short of ridiculous. 

She supposes that’s how politics works. 

Even when they’re being diplomatic. 

“No, I think she’s just got a few extra muscles there,” Killian says. He’s incredibly bad at whispering. And Regina is very good at glaring at them. 

“If you two are quite done.” Emma scrunches her nose, a quick shake of her head. Regina rolls her eyes. 

It’s the third day they’ve done this and a little more than a week since the Misthaven royal family appeared in a cloud of purple smoke in a different hall in a castle that is, seemingly, overflowing with a variety of large spaces. 

There’d been questions – mostly about how Emma had managed to get that bird to agree to fly to Misthaven, but Mary Margaret had been impressed by the whole thing and claimed Evan was very enthusiastic about his mission and--"Now, here we are, ready and willing to save the kingdom.”

And that was that. 

There were more birds sent out and missives, envoys in well-tailored uniforms sent on several different horses in a variety of directions, requesting the presence of every ruler of every kingdom. To save the kingdom. 

And set some ground rules. 

For the rest of everything. 

Emma nearly falls over when she hears the chair on her other side squeak, Ruby’s soft grumble barely audible over whatever kind of reaction Regina is currently making. Maybe they should have discussed how to act while taking part in a royal council. 

As it were, they’d spent most of the last week recounting adventures in seaside ports and Neverland, introducing Henry and trying to remember how, exactly, to move without tripping over the far-too-long hems of the dresses they were all wearing again. 

That might have been Emma. 

She really misses pants. 

She’s going to wear pants to the next royal council. Just to see what it does to Regina's face. And Arthur. She still kind of hates King Arthur. 

He’s most of the objections they’ve sustained in the last three days. 

“What are we talking about?” Ruby hisses, elbowing Emma in the side roughly. 

She groans, gritting her teeth and Regina has started to glare at the ceiling. “Why do you not know how to whisper?”

“I’m not really trying, if I’m being honest.” “That was rather obvious,” Killian mutters, and Emma is not surprised when Ruby sticks her tongue out at them. 

They are a picture of royal perfection. 

“I am bored,” Ruby whines, rolling her whole head with enough drama that Emma is sure they would be able to harness its power for good. “Arthur is suggesting that we need to redo the treaty again.”

Emma is going to sprain her jaw. She clenches it, tight enough to send a ripple of pain down either side of her neck and, possibly, up into her head, neurons firing in something resembling fury because he keeps doing this and she hadn’t really been paying attention. 

Like, at all. 

She’d been far too busy flirting. And trying to covertly look at Killian’s jacket. It’s new – everything they’re wearing is new, meetings with the official Arendelle seamstress, which, is, apparently a thing and Emma’s only a little annoyed that her meetings have led to a mostly all-white wardrobe, something about the savior and meaning, but it had made Killian’s eyes widen slightly that morning and she likes this jacket a lot. 

Maybe the tension in her jaw is doing permanent damage to her psyche. 

She’s fairly positive the vest he’s wearing is leather too. 

It’s absurd. 

“I can hear you, you know,” Arthur drawls, seated at the other end of the table. That’s probably not a sign. He’d picked that seat anyway. 

And that’s probably because is he, at least a little, terrified of Emma. Or the sword strapped to Killian’s hip. 

“Yeah, I don’t think she was all that worried about it, really,” David shrugs. He leans forward, an appraising look on his face, like he’s getting ready to challenge the king of Camelot to more than one duel. 

Mary Margaret bites back a smile. “What is it this time, Your Majesty?”

“Oh shit, that was almost scathing,” Emma whispers. It’s not really a whisper. Regina looks like she’s about to slide out of her chair, directly onto the floor and blow a hole in the ceiling with a very large fireball. 

Killian grins. 

“His Majesty appears to be concerned about the decision to, simply, send Prince Hans back to the Southern Isles,” Ariel says, a forced calm in her voice when her fingers have started tapping an impatient rhythm on the table. 

“We’ve discussed this,” Elsa sighs. “I’m not interested in doing anything else. Hans is nothing more than an upstart and a mistake. He saw an opportunity to seize control of something that wasn’t his--” “--Sound familiar, Arthur?” Killian cuts in. There is no calm in that question. It’s unspoken threat and narrowed eyes, but he leans back towards Emma like he can’t help himself and, eventually, she’s sure, she’ll be able to have a single, coherent thought about the state of his jackets. 

Will snickers, feet propped up on the edge of the windowsill on the other side of the room with Henry and Belle a few feet away, books strewn around them, and he’s doing that chair-leaning thing again. “He does bring up a very interesting point, Your Majesty,” Will says. “And I do believe you’re harping. It’s inefficient.” David hums in agreement, Regina throwing her whole arm over her face because, for the third straight day, this has dissolved, rather quickly, into a rather large farce.

Merida – the heir to the throne in DunBroch, or so Regina explained when the redhead appeared at the Arendelle gate with a quiver strapped to her back and a questionably large horse – scoffs. “Who are you again?” 

“Oh, that’s just rude,” Will grumbles. “We did introductions several days ago.”

“You’re not exactly a royal though, are you?” Princess Abigail, Midas’ daughter, asks archly. “I can’t understand why your opinion should...well, count.”

“Ah, so the rude thing, is just a sweeping pandemic now, huh?”

Mary Margaret tries to turn her laugh into a different noise, a spectacular fail that she does her best to wave off. “What?” she challenges. “That was actually funny.” “Oh, don’t tell him that,” Killian sighs. “We’ll never hear the end of it now.”

“Too late, Jones,” Will calls, slamming the feet of his chair back into the ground so he can pull out a deck of cards from his back pocket. Henry’s eyes practically light up. 

“And he does bring up a good point,” Ella admits. She and Thomas had arrived almost as soon as they’d sent out the missives, quiet smiles and curt nods that Emma hopes is, actually, some kind of sign because they seem nice and they could use some nice at this point. 

Will lets out a triumphant noise. “Thank you ma’am! That’s exactly what I was trying to do. Make a point. A good one, in fact.” “He can’t remember his point,” Killian mutters, barely loud enough for Emma to hear. 

Abigail’s eyes narrow, lips curling into something that can only be a little aggressive and maybe Emma will slide out of her chair before Regina. That would be impressive. 

“Alright, let’s get several things straight,” she bites out, frustration turning into anger and anger turning into words and her voice doesn’t shake. 

Killian is still smiling. 

“Hans is a non-factor,” Emma continues, “The only thing we need to be concerned with is getting him the hell out of Arendelle.” “Hear, hear,” Anna shouts, and Emma hadn’t seen her move away from the table, but she’s already got cards in her hand and a slightly disgruntled look on her face. “Wait, wait,” she adds, “what did you say was wild?” Henry groans. “Jokers, Ms. Joan. And what was the other one, Mr. Scarlet?”

There’s a collective laugh from the entire Misthaven contingent, lips tugged behind teeth and Killian’s whole body shakes while he does his best not to fall over. “Ok, don’t start,” Will warns. “At least the kid knows where to show some respect.” “And you still think you deserve that?” Arthur asks. The room goes incredibly quiet. 

Except for David’s mumbled oh shit. It’s not exactly mumbled. 

Regina pulls her arm away from her face slowly, sitting up straighter and turning so slowly Emma wonders if there’s actually magic involved. She can’t imagine having that kind of control over her limbs. 

“Too many muscles,” Killian mutters, Emma letting out a huff of something that isn’t a laugh, but may just be generic exhaustion and there’s been no mention of boxes or dates and she’s going to make him get several versions of this vest. 

“Thank you, Captain,” Regina says, eyebrows arching impossibly high. He salutes. And Regina keeps moving, twisting towards a wide-eyed and suddenly pale Arthur. “You have thoughts, Sir? Would you like to share them?” Arthur's eyes look like they’re trying to fly out of face. “Sir?” he echoes, voice managing to crack on each letter. “How dare--” “--No, no, no,” Regina interrupts, and she doesn’t actually stand up, but she somehow looks more intimidating this way. Her shoulders roll back, head tilted and a spark in her eyes that brokers no discussion. The flames crackling between her fingers help too. “You want our respect, Arthur? You get it when you deserve it.” “And you what? Assume that you can return here and take over again? Demand we all fall in line and fear you, the same way we did George?” “Oh my God,” David groans. “How many times do we have to go over this? George was an asshole. No one is trying to be him.” “The opposite, in fact,” Elsa adds, several nods from the Misthaven royal family. 

Arthur still doesn’t look convinced. He’s standing, palms flat on the table and enough tension between his shoulders that it almost looks like he’s actually carved of wood. Maybe they could just turn him into wood. 

Emma’s fairly certain she remembers a story like that from when she was a kid. 

“You took your men out of Misthaven, Arthur,” Mary Margaret points out. “You’ve met with Emma and David and Killian more times than we can count. But you’ve still got that fear in your eyes--” “--I’m not afraid of anything,” he shouts, but having to use those words kind of defeats the purpose of them. 

“We both know that’s not true, Sir.”

Anna laughs, the sound bouncing off walls and windows that are, mostly, clear of snow now, nothing more than a soft frost in the morning because it’s autumn and things are changing and shifting and Emma wants to stop thinking in metaphors. 

“What is it you’re looking for, Arthur?” Elsa asks. “Emma told me. They’ve given you every inch you’ve asked for, aside from letting you run rampant through their kingdom.” “A kingdom they deserted,” he growls. 

Killian runs his free hand over his face, fingers carding through his hair roughly. “This isn’t getting us anywhere,” he sighs. “Answer the bloody question, Arthur. What do you want?” The doors at the far end of the hall swing open –– a man and a woman and Arthur gasps loudly enough that they’ve almost circled back around to comical. “What the--” Emma starts, but she nearly chokes on her own tongue when she notices the look on Mary Margaret’s face. “M’s...what’s going on?”

Mary Margaret shakes her head slowly, jumping out of her chair and sprinting forward, crashing into the man’s chest. He catches her, tight arms and words mumbled into her hair, and Emma doesn’t know where to look. 

Her eyes flit towards David, surprise etched onto every inch of his face. 

“So, uh,” Ruby says, “this is something, huh?” “I thought you were dead,” Mary Margaret exclaims, working back onto her feet so she can rap her knuckles on the man’s armor. He’s wearing armor. The woman next to him looks incredibly amused. “George, he said--once he knew I wasn’t the Savior--”

Her breath catches, tears obvious even from the other side of the hall and David is half sitting, half standing now, hand drifting towards his sword like he’s getting ready to defend Mary Margaret if needs be. 

“It’s alright, Sparrow,” the man says, lips curling up into a smile when his thumbs brush away Mary Margaret’s tears. Emma isn’t sure how she moves, doesn’t remember deciding to shift her legs or unbend her knees, but she’s not sitting on her chair anymore, perched, instead, on Killian’s thigh with an arm tight around her waist. 

“That doesn’t exactly look particularly royal, Jones,” Will calls. Killian flips him off. 

“What are you doing here?” Mary Margaret asks. “How are you even here?” “And how did you get past the guards?” Elsa adds. 

The woman laughs – soft and almost tinkling, eyes flitting towards Arthur. He’s getting paler by the second. “Oh, your guards are perfectly competent,” she promises. “But we heard that you were looking to have all the royals in the Enchanted Forest here and--” She shrugs. “It seemed rude to decline the invitation.”

“You are not the rulers of Camelot,” Arthur sneers, and, really, that’s the last thing Emma expects to hear. Like. At all. 

He pounds his fists on the table, shaking the wood and leading to several swords drawn his direction. “I’d reconsider your next few movements,” David suggests, Kristoff half a step behind him with a look that makes it obvious he’s still not over being denied the chance to stab Hans.

“Can someone tell us who these people are?” Emma demands, waving a free hand towards the strangers. “And if we need to actually be braced for an attack.” The man chuckles. “No, no, Savior. Far from that. My name is Lancelot and--”

“--No, it’s not.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Are you kidding me?” Emma balks, drawing a quiet laugh out of Ruby and Killian’s head falls against her shoulder. He kisses her back. That’s not very royal either. 

“I don’t believe so, no.”

“Ok, ok, I--well, ok. Mary Margaret, did you know Lancelot the whole time? Honestly?” Mary Margaret blushes slightly. “First of all, I was cursed. Second of all, do not ask me questions about Excalibur because, we all know, that’s a myth here and Ariel--” “--Those were good clues,” Ariel argues. “It’s not my fault Hook didn’t remember who he was, so he couldn’t appreciate them!”

“Thank you Fisk,” Killian mumbles, not lifting his head away from Emma. “Once again, you’re the biggest help in these conversations.” She makes a face oddly similar to the one Ruby pulled earlier, and it’s no wonder these other royals are convinced none of them are fit to rule anything. 

“I’m not disputing any of this,” Mary Margaret says. “But, um--well, our stories, our lives, really, are a lot different than the fairy tales they told in the Land Without Magic. And Lancelot--” She nods back towards the man who is starting to look a little stunned and Emma didn’t realize he was holding the other woman’s hand. Her gasp of understanding is impossibly loud. “--He’s the one who brought me to George.”

David leaps out of his chair, fury practically flickering around him, and Killian has to tighten his arm around Emma’s waist to make sure she doesn’t join him. “No, no,” Mary Margaret continues, “it’s not like that. It’s...Lancelot and I grew up together. But I had magic and George was always good at finding magic, wasn’t he? And making sure people would bring it to him.” “What does that mean?” David hisses. 

“My mother disappeared,” Lancelot answers. “Quickly. No trace. I’d never seen her use magic, but there were whispers--when I was young, that she had a connection to the power of the lake near our home and I--I knew what Mary Margaret could do. I thought...well, maybe if I gave George what he wanted, I could get what I wanted. I could get my mother back.” The silence echoes in the hall, most of the Misthaven contingent staring at him with open mouths and something almost resembling hatred. 

“Damn,” Ruby curses eventually. “That’s awful.” Lancelot nods. “It was. Is. I regretted it as soon as I decided and then there was no word of my mother, even after. I--I’m sure George had her killed.”

“He told me he’d gotten rid of my friend,” Mary Margaret whispers, more tears and a quiver to her voice. “He was...he was disappointed that all I could do was talk to animals.” “That’s impressive enough,” David shouts, and Mary Margaret flashes him a watery smile over her shoulder. 

“For you, maybe. Not for George. But I--I don’t understand. What happened to you, Lancelot? Are you part of Arthur’s court? I didn’t think there were actually any knights of the round table here. That’s just…” “...More legend,” Belle finishes. She’s holding cards as well. 

“It could have been real,” Arthur mutters, and every head in the hall turns towards him. His tone has shifted, low and calculated, the kind of voice that invades a desperate kingdom looking to cement his own power and Emma is running out of air to properly gasp. “That part of it’s true,” she muses. “Isn’t it?” “I don’t know what you’re suggesting.” She hums, turning slightly and Killian’s fingers have started drawing absent-minded patterns on her stomach. “Are you Guinevere, then?” Emma asks, more than a few curses from previously cursed royals who believed a different legend and managed to defeat darkness that way. 

The woman nods. 

“Holy shit,” Emma breathes. “Ok, ok, so, um, let me see if I can get this straight. So, everyone here knows George was a dick, right?” There’s a general murmur of agreement, although there are also a few stunned expressions and Killian mumbles colloquialisms into her shoulder blade. “He was, that’s not up for debate. So...as we’ve told you all several thousand times, George was working for the Dark One the whole time. The Dark One wanted, well--me, I guess.” Killian’s arm tightens, David standing up straighter and Mary Margaret’s tears are falling for a different reason now. Will puts his cards down. 

Emma does her best to look consistently confident. 

“We tried to fight that,” she continues, “realized what was going on and did our best, but, well, you can see how that ended up. Anyway. We were gone. There was still dark magic in this realm and Arthur saw it as an opportunity to add some real estate to his kingdom.”

“He’d been obsessed with the Dark One since we were children,” Guinevere says softly. “Wanted to understand how to control him, harness that power and--” “--Harness it?” “Oh, yes. Was equally fascinated and terrified by it. And when all that was left in this realm was that darkness, Arthur saw it as a chance to assert himself, seize control as it were.” “By burning Misthaven,” David fumes, another nod and soft sound of pity from Guinevere. “And he’s what? Never going to agree to anything now that we’re back?” “He’s angry at us,” Lancelot adds. “All of us.” “Because of the what?” Will asks. “If I ever I should leave you, shit?” Lancelot blinks. 

“That reference went over everyone’s head, Scarlet,” Killian mutters, Will making a noise in the back of his throat. “You did take your men out of Misthaven though, Arthur. What is that? Conceding defeat?” “There is no defeat,” Arthur snaps. “Because we are not signing your treaty. Camelot is its own kingdom, functioning on--” “--Us now,” Guinevere smiles. It’s not exactly sweet. “That’s why we’re here, Arthur. Because the kingdom deserves a new chance, enough of the darkness and the desperation.” “Can someone explain what the hell any of you are talking about?” Ruby asks. “If this guy is the one who brought Mary Margaret to George, how’d he end up in Camelot?” “Guinevere just told you,” Lancelot says. “Arthur has been obsessed with the Dark One, his whole life. And when you lot were gone, that sentiment only grew. It’s one I shared for a time.” “Why?” “I regretted what I’d done to Mary Margaret. Knew I’d given her up to a man who--how did you word it, your highness?” Emma grins. “He was a giant and absolute dick.” “Yes, that, exactly. But once Misthaven was emptied, it was clear that darkness was still here. And stronger than ever. I thought I might be able to atone if I did my best to fight it. Only Arthur--he went too far. Started organizing the other kingdoms, even after the magic in this realm changed again. It never stopped. So, I--” “--Ran away,” Arthur screams, face going blotchy and Abigail makes another pointed noise at that. It’s not particularly royal. 

Emma wonders if this is all a dream. That would almost make sense at this point. 

“You didn’t stop, Arthur,” Guinevere says. “It was never enough. Another quest and another piece of research, all of it coming to nothing because the only one who could defeat the Darkness was her.” 

She nods towards Emma, still sitting on top of Killian’s leg. She should stand up. She should say something, smile or give some kind of allusion that she’s got a handle on any facet of her life, but mostly she just wants to come up with a few rules for all of these kingdoms and make sure the people in her kingdom are happy. 

Emma just wants to be happy. It doesn’t seem like that big of a request. 

“And we did that,” Emma adds. “The Dark One is gone, Arthur. There’s no threat of that coming back. The only thing that is back, is us and we are--” “--Heroes,” Elsa says suddenly, sliding to the edge of her chair and she’s got a crown on. She’s been wearing it since that tomorrow she’d mentioned, a shimmer that is absolutely a byproduct of her own magic. “That’s it, isn’t it? It wasn’t perfect and it didn’t all go according to plan, but the prophecy is true now. The Swan and the Knight. Saving the future of magic and ensuring that we’re safe. We are safe now, Arthur.”

“Hear, hear,” Anna calls again, the card-playing, decidedly unroyal group around her throwing their hands up as well. 

“We’ve told you several times now, Arthur, all we wanted was to come home,” David says. “To protect our home. That’s it.” He sheathes his sword, but there’s still a hint of challenge and Emma can see the magic hovering just over his right boot. 

Mary Margaret reaches for his hand. 

“I think everyone deserves that,” Merida mutters, a return to the conversation that’s equal parts surprising and helpful. 

Another woman – dressed in head to toe armor with more than a few weapons buckled to her side and shiny, black hair that reflects the light in that hall – hums in what Emma hopes is, at least some, agreement. “The Dark One was a threat to all of us,” she says. “His defeat is something we should rejoice. Not a reason to question the royal family in Misthaven.”

“You weren’t so sure of that before,” Arthur says, accusation ringing in the statement. “Your king and queen were just as worried as I was. The same goes for your parents, Merida.”

“Oh, look, at that I was right,” Killian muses, hooking his chin over Emma’s shoulder. She leans back, not really trying to burrow further against his chest, but his arm does tighten and she has to rest her hand on his thigh to keep her balance. 

Or so she’ll keep telling herself. 

“I told you that,” Kristoff mumbles. 

“Don’t take this victory from me.” “He’s showing off for the princess,” Ariel grins. She’s sitting on a windowsill again, cross legged with her elbows digging into her knees and, every now and then, she flashes a few fingers in Henry’s direction. 

They’re cheating at cards. 

It’s strangely comforting in the middle of a royal council that has dissolved into chaos. 

“That is kind of true,” Killian admits, pressing the words into the skin behind Emma’s ear and she would probably be embarrassed by the whole thing if she weren’t also half certain Merida and Mulan are currently also making eyes at each other. 

That’s also rather comforting. 

“Huh, so that is happening, right?” Ruby asks, Killian’s cheek brushing over Emma’s hair when he nods. “Right, right, ok, I just wanted to make sure.” “Things have changed, Arthur,” Mulan continues. “The Dark One is destroyed. The Savior has won. Misthaven has a royal family again. A warrior of true honor would understand that. He would not continue only to serve his own self-interest.”

Both Anna and Will shout hear hear that time before Will grumbles are you cheating as soon as Henry puts his cards down. 

“No, no,” Henry promises. “Not at all.”

Emma moves so quickly she nearly elbows Killian in both ribs with each of her arms. “Ah shit, sorry, sorry,” she babbles, but he just presses another kiss to her shoulder and it would be easier for his fingers to find skin if she weren’t wearing this dress.

Seriously, pants. Soon. 

One of the witches from Oz –- Emma genuinely can’t remember her name, but she’d appeared in a bubble and that was a lot, honestly -- makes a noise of agreement. “There’s goodness here,” she announces, as if that doesn’t still manage to sound a little menacing. “A desire to help and they--” She waves her hand towards Emma and Killian. “Are at the very center of it.”

Arthur scoffs. “Them? Please. We know what he was. Even if it’s not true anymore, the pirate was half the reason Camelot had to defend itself!” “No, no, Arthur,” Lancelot objects. “That was only ever you. That’s why we’re here. The people have started to realize what you’ve done. A broken kingdom, sire. And it won’t be mended by you. Not now. Not after everything.”

“The Savior and her pirate have already done more for this realm than you could ever begin to dream,” Guinevere adds. “Look at this kingdom! Hans was--well, he was also a bit of a dick, wasn’t he?”

Mary Margaret’s hand flies to her mouth, still not able to keep her guffaw from flying out of her, and Emma’s eyes get so wide they actually start to water. Ruby’s head falls forward, landing with a thump on her forearms, while both David and Regina sport matching looks of surprise. 

“Aye, exactly that, your highness,” Killian says, smile obvious in every syllable. 

“I wasn’t sure if I was using it in the right context. It’s a very catchy saying, isn’t it?” “Something like that, absolutely.”

“Right, well, as you say. Hans did not belong on this throne. But you and the Sav--” She closes her mouth when she glances at Emma, gaze turning appraising and almost understanding, as if she realizes what that title weighs. “You and Emma,” Guinevere corrects. “Made sure that he couldn’t maintain it. You brought back Princess Anna, brought back Queen Elsa, even. At great personal expense.” “Something like that,” Killian repeats, Emma squeezing her hand lightly. 

“A good warrior knows when to retreat, Arthur,” Mulan says lightly. “Phillip and Aurora agreed to your terms in a different world. Those terms don’t hold anymore.” “Almost like your reasoning for attacking us to begin with,” David mutters. 

Arthur gapes at them, eyes darting from one royal to the next like one  will, eventually, return to his side. None of them do. None of them say a single world, in fact, which doesn’t seem to bode very well for any of them, but then Regina coughs softly and her chair scrapes across the tile when she pushes back, enough royalty to ensure several treaties get signed in the next few seconds. 

“Let’s make a few things clear, shall we, Arthur?” He doesn’t answer. Of course not. “You were obsessed and fascinated and terrified by the Darkness? So were we. We lived it, you coward. We were shaped by it, groomed for a battle that wasn’t ours until it was on our doorstep. We were bartered and captured, kidnapped by even those with the best intentions.” She glances over her shoulder at a repentant-looking Lancelot, a strange string of limbs with one hand still wrapped up in Guinevere’s and the other laced with Mary Margaret’s. Mary Margaret is also holding David’s hand. 

“You made mistakes,” Regina continues, “we all did. We--Gods, that curse was a disaster, wasn’t it?” “It wasn’t the best,” Killian agrees, the feel of his upturned lips obvious on the side of Emma’s neck as soon as she leans further back. She’s started toying with the edge of his jacket. 

“We’ve been over this, Arthur,” Emma adds. “Our magic isn’t something to be feared. It’s the deck we were dealt, that’s it.” Will groans. “If you keep making jokes, I’m not going to have a job, Em!” “You are not actually the court jester,” Ruby points out, but Henry is laughing loudly and Belle looks consistently charmed by this and maybe they can just be good royals by being themselves.

That’s a kind of a nice thought. 

“I mean, we could probably do something about that if he’s really determined,” Regina muses. “Maybe after all of this though. Priorities.” “Regina, was that actually a joke?” Emma asks, both Ruby and Mary Margaret exclaiming in what may actually be delight. 

The other royals look stunned. 

So, maybe they’ll have to temper back some of their honest personalities. 

“It happens,” Regina mutters, David already objecting and Killian mumbling what sounds like that’s never happened, ever under his breath. Regina blushes. This may actually be a dream. “Oh, whatever,” she grumbles. “The point I am trying to make and really--not just to Arthur, to all of you, is that we understand your anger. We’re still angry. At everything done to us and done because of us and by us and if we could change things, we would.”

She turns to Emma, the ends of her mouth tugging up. “But,” Regina says pointedly, “the past is something that is, unfortunately, set in stone. Not a sword in a stone, but--” “--See,” Ariel cries. “She would have understood my references.” “I was cursed, Fisk,” Killian hisses. She ignores him, far too busy trying to make the clubs symbol with her hands. 

“We aren’t asking for anything from any of you,” Emma says, sitting up straighter. That only pulls her back closer to Killian’s chest though and it probably shouldn’t make her feel more confident, but that’s another deck she’s been dealt or however the metaphor about True Love should work. “Honestly. And we--well, prophecy lasts a lifetime, doesn’t it? We all have magic, we all have power and we’re not opposed to using either one of those things in the future. For good.”

There’s a murmur from the other Misthaven royals, encouraging smiles and even Elsa nods, promises on their lips that Emma fully expected them to make. It’s nice all the same. 

“These kingdoms were allied before,” Emma continues, “but only because George was a threat. And the Dark One was looming. Those are gone. We’ve made sure of that.” “What are you asking us for, Emma?” Merida questions, and she can’t help the laugh that flies out of her. 

Killian’s hand stills, understanding even in the lack of movement. 

“Nothing,” Emma replies. “There’s no bartering here. No back and forth. No magic for magic. I--I’ve seen that already and I’ll be honest, I’m not all that interested.”

“And you’ve got the authority to do that?” Abigail counters. “If memory serves, even before you lot disappeared, after George had locked himself in his tower, you weren’t the acting monarch were you, Emma?” And, that time, the murmur that comes out of the Misthaven royals, and Elsa, is a little less understanding, an edge to the noise that’s reminiscent of defenses and a childhood spent protecting each other. 

“Oh, you may want to try that again,” David suggests. “Killian, take a deep breath.” Emma doesn’t have to turn around to know how thin Killian’s eyes have gone narrow. She can feel his chest shift against her though, Abigail’s expression turning timid the longer no one else says anything. “Well,” she reasons. “It’s a fair question.” “Is it, though?” Ruby asks. “Honestly?”

“Are some of you worried that we’re actually...going to fight each other?” Mary Margaret whispers. “For the rule of Misthaven?” Arthur clicks his tongue. “It’s been known to happen before.” “Fucking hell, Arthur, shut up,” David roars. “Abigail, that is not something that’s going to happen. We’re--well, we’re a family. Our only interests are the ones that benefit the future of Misthaven and--” “--Emma has all of that power, though,” Abigail objects. “Even Glinda said it. The Swan and the Knight. We’ve all heard the prophecy. What’s to say we agree to your terms and she suddenly decides she wants a little more?” David exhales. That’s probably the best reaction. Until Killian reacts. 

“She’s the bloody Savior,” he shouts, loud enough that Emma winces at the sound reverberating in her ear. “You think she’s suddenly going to turn into a power-hungry royal? No, no, we’ll leave that to the rest of you.”

Abigail seems very interested in her hands all of the sudden. “There has never been a kingdom with multiple rulers,” she mumbles. “It just--it simply isn’t done that way.” “Oh, that’s not entirely true,” Belle objects, Killian’s quiet laugh bordering close to pride as soon as she jumps up and leaves a small pile of cards in her wake. “It’s happened several times in history. A whole family and mutual interests being served, I mean...think about England.” “England,” Abigail repeats dubiously. “Which part of the Enchanted Forest is that in?”

“Is that honestly the real name of this place?” Will crows, nearly falling back in his chair again. 

Emma sighs. She hopes they don’t have to actually use the guards to escort Arthur out of Arendelle. “That’s not the point,” Emma says. “The point is, and seriously, this is the last time we’re doing this, I am not looking to take over anything. I was supposed to defeat Darkness, I--” 

She twists, not entirely comfortable, but absolutely necessary and Killian’s smile feels as if it slinks its way down her spine and settles her magic. 

“We,” Emma amends, “did that. And so we’ve done enough. We’ve done Neverland and getting Hans out of Arendelle. We’ve comforted people whose entire homes were destroyed by Arthur. We understand what you went through and know some of that was our fault, but that’s different now. All we’re looking for is for you to trust us. No one is coming for your kingdoms. No one is looking for magic or the chance to intimidate anyone. All we’re looking for is exactly what David told you, to return home and start over. For the better, for all of us.”

No one says anything. 

No one even moves. 

And for a moment Emma doesn’t dare to breathe, eyes wide and lips parted slightly, but then she can feel the flutter of fingers tracing over the curve of her hip and her magic rises, a soft wave that’s a bit like the tide and a hint like the waltz she’s determined to get at some point and--

“Camelot pledges its loyalty to the royal family of Misthaven,” Guinevere says, nothing but confidence in her voice and Killian’s exhale makes Emma’s magic soar. 

Arthur pales. “You can’t do that!” “Ok, but I--I just did, so…”

Guinevere shrugs, Lancelot chuckling lightly with a kiss pressed to the top of her head and Emma’s jaw drops even further. She glances a Ruby, an almost identical expression on her face. Mary Margaret’s got her hand over her mouth again. 

“You’ve gone too far, Arthur,” Guinevere continues. “And you’ve known this was coming for ages. All of it, you--” “--I am the king of Camelot,” he shouts, stumbling back with hands that can’t seem to grasp his sword. “This is my decision and you’ve all agreed to stand with me and--” Arthur nearly trips over his own feet, a clack of metal from the chain mail under his shirt and the hilt of his sword slamming into his stomach when he manages to get it out of its scabbard. 

“That was different,” Merida says evenly, but Emma can see her fingers fluttering at her side and maybe next time they hold a council they’ll make everyone forego their weapons. 

“You’ll regret that!”

Merida hisses in a breath, standing up with an arrow pinched between her fingers. Mulan’s sword is half pulled out and even David’s trying to move Mary Margaret behind him.

“Oh my God,” Emma mumbles, a soft laugh on her neck when Killian shifts her off his leg. He stands slowly, not trying to move her any further, and, eventually, she’ll think that may be her favorite part of the day, but then he pulls his sword out and tilts his head slightly, narrow eyes and a certain set of his mouth that’s nothing short of a threat. 

He smiles. 

And it’s not kind. It’s not Emma’s. It’s sinister, almost, a sneer and every single one of his teeth, the tip of his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. 

“I’d put the sword down, Arthur,” Killian murmurs, a slight flinch when Emma’s magic sparks. The ball of light in her palm doesn’t touch her skin, but it’s bright enough to reflect of the metal of his sword and she needs to get him a new sword. 

Maybe she’ll ask in Arendelle. They did such a good job with the jacket. 

“Or what?” Arthur challenges. “You’ll kill me? That’s only proving my point. You do not belong here. None of you do, not anymore. This realm doesn’t need you! And we certainly don’t want you. Especially,” he adds, voice dropping with the weight of the next few words, “a villain and a pirate who destroyed everything he--” “--Enough,” Emma snaps. The light in her hand explodes, bathing the entire room in a near-blinding glow and she’s never moved that quickly. She nearly over-spins, the ends of her dress fluttering around her heels and she’s got to get used to heels again, but she’ll worry about that later. After her hand lands on Killian’s cheek, stubble on the inside of her palm and the feel of his jaw clenching against her skin. 

“Shit,” Will muses, entirely un-royal and absolutely accurate. “You’re a total asshole, huh?” Guinevere still hasn’t moved, but her eyebrows shift slightly. As if she’s not surprised. At all. “You never understood, Arthur,” she mutters, “never. That there’s more to this. Being alive...being in love. Caring about anything except your own interests. Camelot will be better off without you. And this realm is better now that they have returned. All of them.”

“DunBroch agrees,” Merida says. She tosses the arrow on the table, a move Emma hopes is some type of respect. “We’ve already seen magic change with your return.” “As have we,” Mulan adds, and Glinda nods in agreement. Emma’s still really curious about the bubble thing. She’s fairly certain it personally offended Regina. “You have our loyalty as well.”

There’s a hum of agreement around the room, Arthur sputtering and stammering until David pulls his sword away from him, but Emma keeps her hand in the same spot, eyes tracing across Killian’s face, looking for something she hopes she doesn’t find.

“I’m fine, love,” he breathes, a quick kiss between her eyebrows. 

“Arendelle as well,” Elsa says, and Killian’s arm wraps around Emma’s waist when she spins again. “Our full support and alliance and any other politically correct word or description you can come up with.”

“I could probably figure out a few,” Belle grins. “I defer to your expertise.” Emma’s smile feels impossibly large, a surge of hope and burst of magic directly underneath Killian’s hand, but then goddamn Glinda starts shaking her head slowly and she’s certain everything is going to go to complete and utter shit again. 

Mary Margaret’s eyes widen. “What?” “I’m afraid Elsa won’t be able to agree,” Glinda explains, “without actually being crowned queen. Despite his departure from the kingdom, King Hans is still, technically, the ruler here.” “Departure,” Kristoff echoes and Belle mumbles politically correct under her breath. “So, what? You’re saying we have to have some kind of ceremony?” “A party,” Anna cries. She nearly knocks over the cards when she jumps up again, Will and Henry grumbling in displeasure. “Oh, stop, I was winning anyway.” Will huffs. “That is not how poker works at all.” “Poker, Scarlet?” Killian asks. “Honestly?” “Don’t go all royal on me, Jones. You’re just frustrated you didn’t get to play.” Killian doesn’t answer, Emma’s smile still there and turning a little teasing when she tries not to laugh too loudly. It’d be inappropriate in their current situation. David’s still trying to restrain Arthur. “Better at dice anyway,” Killian mumbles. 

“And not quite a party,” Glinda corrects, Elsa’s face dropping with realization. “A coronation. You need to make this official, Your Majesty. After everything that’s happened, I think following protocol and tradition will serve us well.” “This is my kingdom, though,” Elsa argues. “I shouldn’t be crowned for show.” “I’m afraid the only way Oz will agree with this is if there is a coronation. You open the gates, allow the kingdom in, invite every land. Show that you are committed to running Arendelle, instead of running from it. Again.” Ruby lets out a low whistle. “Wow, that’s super harsh.”

“And true,” Elsa mumbles, glancing at Regina. “What do you think?” Regina makes a noise in the back of her throat – a little frustrated, a little accepting, entirely royal. Maybe that’s a step in the right direction. “It might be a good idea. Let your people know you’ve returned, have no intention of leaving again and make sure that the cut between Arendelle and Hans is severed completely.” “The past must be discarded,” Glinda continues, and Emma does her best to keep her face even at the absurdity of that particular sentence. She can feel Killian’s chest shift against her back. “A new era in this realm, with optimism and--”

“--So, it’s really a party, then?” Anna interrupts. “Because we should probably get some chocolate or something.” Glinda’s mouth parts with a soft pop, Elsa shaking her head slightly and Kristoff’s laugh may actually do permanent damage to the structural integrity of the hall. It’s loud and joyful and party might not be a bad word. 

“Let’s cross that bridge in a little while,” Elsa says. “Maybe after we’ve all gotten something to eat first?”

It’s a dismissal without actually saying the words, the doors opening by guards who are very good at reading their soon-to-be official queen’s expressions, and the table clears out slowly. There are muttered acknowledgements, hopes for a treaty very soon and Mulan apologizes that Aurora and Phillip couldn’t be there. 

Again. 

She does it every time they disperse. 

And then they’re gone. Arthur is escorted out by a different set of guards, Guinevere and Lancelot promising to take care of it, which is only a little menacing, but Emma’s gotten used to very menacing, so this is almost a victory. 

David drops into the nearest chair, barely making it in the seat, legs splayed out in front of him. He lets his sword clatter to the ground. “Well,” he mumbles, head in his hands, “that went great, didn’t it?” “It definitely could have been worse,” Regina reasons. 

“How? How is that possible?” “We got people to agree with us, David. Pledges of--oh, shit, fealty sound archaic doesn’t it?” “Something about tradition, probably,” Elsa grumbles. She’s moved away from the table, dropping back-to-back with Anna and there are half a dozen snowflakes fluttering between her fingers. “How long do coronations normally last?” Ruby’s lips twitch. “Long. There will probably be trumpets.” “Oh Gods.” “Can we focus on the positives, please?” Regina sighs. “A lot of good things happened and--” “--A lot of stupid things,” Emma cuts in. 

Killian tugs her back with him when he sits down again, nipping at her shoulder blade. “It’s definitely Scarlet playing poker during a royal council.” “As has been pointed out several times, I am not royal,” Will argues. “And, I am doing the kid a service here.” He nods in Henry’s direction, curled against Belle’s side now with her fingers in his hair and his eyes obviously closed. “Real, useful life skills.” “You’re turning him into a degenerate.” “King Arthur of Camelot called you a pirate today. As an insult. Let’s keep degenerate where it belongs, huh?” Killian scoffs, chin bumping Emma’s back when he nods. “Plus,” Will adds, “if you and Emma are going to adopt this kid you just---found, then we’ve got to make sure he’s well-rounded.” “We’re not adopting him,” Emma objects, not sure why that’s suddenly so difficult to say. Her stomach lurches, though, a spike in her center that’s a little painful and very magical. 

Will doesn’t look convinced. Mary Margaret looks offended. “Arthur won’t be a problem,” she promises. “Guinevere’s got just as much power in that kingdom as he does. So if she’s decided to align with us, then I think we’re ok?” “You think,” Ruby repeats dubiously. “Are we not going for sure?” “And we’re really going to trust the guy who turned you over to George?” Emma asks. 

Mary Margaret clicks her teeth. “Ok, this is kind of mean,” she wavers, “but uh--” “--You kind of did,” David finishes. His head is hanging over the back of the chair now. “Technically, you know.” “Killian is not Liam,” Emma points out, and those words hurt too. Damn. She wants to go back to their rooms. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting to be thrown into the middle of some Camelot love triangle. The whole thing is getting very complicated.”

Will starts humming under his breath – lyrics to a song Emma is only vaguely familiar with, but Ariel looks overjoyed and--”I know that song,” she cries, more than a few exclamations of quiet thrown her way when Henry stirs. “And that whole thing is wrong. The legend in the Land Without Magic is far more dramatic. You know, Hook, maybe that’s it. Arthur’s just jealous of your very fancy sword.” “You’re the one who made it seem like Excalibur, Fisk.”

“Ah, I set that joke up for you so well and you just...left it there.”

He hums, a shift in his eyebrows Emma doesn’t have to see to be aware. “I’ve grown, you see. Matured, even.” “Gotten less...Dark One’y.” “Aye, that too.” “Still a pirate though.”

Killian doesn’t answer, but David’s head snaps up, eyes wide like he’s only just remembered something important. “Also, it hasn’t been said yet, but we’re all a little annoyed you didn’t invite us on your pirate adventure.”

“None of us were upset by that,” Regina promises. 

“Mostly that you just didn’t tell us,” Ruby amends. “Tell us before you adopt the magic kid, ok?” “You’re being ridiculous,” Emma says. 

“Am I, just?” “Do you want to plan a coronation or not?”

“No,” Elsa responds at the same time Anna shouts “yes” and they wake Henry up almost immediately. 

They spend a few more hours in that hall – Elsa calling for food and an impossible amount of chocolate because, as Anna continuously points out, I was stuck in a cage, I’m going to eat my weight in chocolate and no one seems to able to argue with that. There are decisions made and more than a few debates, Belle combing through comically large tomes that burst with dust every time she flips a page, trying to find out how the last twenty Arendelle monarchs have been crowned and each discovery suggests more grandeur. 

By the end of it all, Elsa is lying on the floor – in between Emma and Anna, more snowflakes falling in soft piles by their head – with Mary Margaret curled into a different chair and Ruby perched on the windowsill next to the one Ariel has claimed. Belle’s legs are draped over Will’s, a book still in her hand, while Killian tries to translate something that may be ancient runes and David paces a small circle into the floor. 

“You’re going to ruin your boots,” Emma muses, and while he doesn’t break stride, his lips do twitch up, a quick flash of his eyes her direction. 

“You’re not a cobbler.” “And you’re worrying. What about? Lancelot?” “No,” David says quickly. His pace picks up, and Killian makes a contrary noise on the other side of the hall. “Oh, shut up, Jones.” Killian salutes, Emma propping herself up on her elbows and trying to level David with her best accusatory stare. It just makes her head hurt. That may be all the chocolate she’s had. 

“It’s going to be ok.” David stops pacing. “Is that positivity I hear?” “It is an attempt.” “It’s impressive.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma groans. “Your compliments are really ringing true. I’m just--I don’t know, maybe Glinda was right. We’re always going to be everything we were. Magic and makeshift royal and out-of-place pop culture knowledge, but focusing on the past is only going to drag us down and then everything’s going to suck.”

David chuckles, a click of boots moving towards Emma that aren’t his. Emma takes Killian’s hand as soon as she sees his fingers. “Eloquent as always, love,” he says, pulling her up with ease. “C’mon, if I look at anymore of those symbols, I’m going to go cross-eyed.” “It’d be a look.” “Gods, do you two ever stop?” David whines. 

Emma shakes her head. “I hope not.”

She doesn’t let go of his hand while they walk down the hall, torches lit with a slightly different glow than the one she’d caused that afternoon. He has to twist around her to open the door to their room, and there’d never really been any discussion of that, no questions about propriety or that pesky tradition that Arendelle seemed so fond of. 

It just was. 

With a bed Emma is considering stealing when they leave. “How difficult do you think it would be to commandeer a feather bed?” she asks, appreciating whatever her question does to every inch of Killian’s face. 

He arches an eyebrow, eyes drifting up her body like he’s taking stock of each part and the twist of his lips is entirely unfair. There are a few pieces of hair stuck up in the back, and Emma knows he’d been running his fingers through it, trying to figure out what, exactly, Elsa has to hold in order to assume the throne, but the whole look makes him a little unruly and decidedly piratical and she yanks on the front of his jacket. 

At first, it’s mostly just to get him closer, but then Emma can see the flash in his eyes and the want in his gaze and she tilts her head up and he bends his neck down, the curve of his hook digging into her back and making her arch further against him. He groans. She kisses him.

Hard. 

Emma pulls in a breath, heartbeat turning staccato in her chest and she’s thankful for the heels now. It makes it easier to move her arm, a hand in his hair and the other flat against his chest, memorizing the beat of his pulse in a way that’s only kind of weird and possibly possessive. 

“Gods, but you are distracting, you know that?” Killian mutters, and Emma must make a noise because she can hear something, a laughter that flutters out of her and bounces off the walls.

“Ok, but that’s not an answer to the bed question.” “I’m sure we could get a very similar bed at home, Swan.”

Her eyes close of their own accord as soon as she processes that word, one that never really had much meaning before and it’s still not enough. Not years and a field or the smell of salt in the air, stolen toffee and fingers dancing on her skin. It’s not leather or a glint of light bouncing off the edge of a sword. 

It’s more. It’s bigger. And it’s...again. It’s soft and easy and it’s always been that. 

From the very start. 

“The one normal thing,” Emma whispers, repeating words from a life that feels like a dream now. Until. Until she lets her eyes flicker up to find Killian staring at her, wonder and love and--"You’re trying to figure out how to get this bed out of here, aren’t you?” “It was your idea!” “You’d probably have to use the window, right?” “Or magic.” “You want me to magic a feather bed? Where?” Killian shrugs, nudging her closer to the bed and Emma doesn’t try to temper her magic. “Be easier with a ship,” he mutters, an admission that might not be that, but her magic jumps anyway and she’s going to fix that too. 

Save it, as it were. 

Emma hums, flopping back on soft blankets and cloud-like pillows, half a plan and a smile that makes her cheeks ache, Killian catching her lips again as soon as he lets the jacket fall to the floor. And she’s not sure how long they spend in that bed, roaming hands and that goddamn tongue thing, but his breathing evens out eventually, her smile still there and the soft heat in the very center of her makes it feel as if her heart expands, warding off the chill in the air and the past that isn't quite as formidable anymore. 

#cs ff #captain swan #all was golden in the sky #that stupid witch fic #personal space??? #emma and killian have never heard of that

[ivyquinnauthor]

12, 17 and 25 for the ff writer asks please :)

Responding to the fanfic writer questions, if anyone else wants to ask some, feel free!

***12 - Who is your favorite character to write for?***

I guess since I’ve written pretty consistently in three fandoms so far, I’d list the ones that I liked the best for each or used to like. I mean, I was first in Buffy fandom so Spike. In Smallville---which I can’t write for anymore at all cause whoo boy all the scandals there turn my stomach----I liked Chloe Sullivan but again the real life terrible, literal cult stuff means I can’t do anything in that fandom anymore, and I haven’t written for that character in over 4 years. Such things happen. In Lucifer, I prefer Lucifer the most cause lots of just angst to mine but also sarcasm, lol.

************

***17) Post a line from a WIP you’re working on:***

Honestly, I have a few I spin plates for, keep up in the air, between two multi-chapter fics and a sort of interconnected series of one-shots. So, lines from the following:

A) From “Recurrence” - 

As musicals go, he appreciated ones with a more intense difficulty level and, in that regard, The Music Man left much to be desired. Doing the quid pro quo to show the lads trying out for Harold Hill how it’s supposed to be done was far from a challenge---he much preferred being out with Ella in Vegas with some Lady Luck---but he muddled through the inferior song anyway. After all, trouble with a capital T is something he knew everything about.

B) From “This Ebony Bird Beguiling” - 

He wasn’t sure how he got from playing helpful house guest, preparing sugary-laden treats for the urchin and the detective (when Chloe woke up, talk about a rough night) in a sunny beach house to giving Trixie Espinosa preening advice. Oh, don’t get him wrong. His interminable life had been nothing but bizarre, depending on whose perspective one took, but it usually didn’t vacillate between almost mind-numbingly boring and human one moment to worrying about someone else’s loose pin feathers the very next.

C) From “Queer Eye for the Chef Guy” (next Culinary Advice one-shot) - 

“I agreed to this, sort of, because you clearly need a distraction while Linda works through the whole you’re-the-devil-thing.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Gary. “You have a fine talent for making the infernal and, frankly, formerly---very formerly---divine sound mundane, Preston. It’s more than a just a ‘thing.’”

Oh Christ...wait shouldn’t even think it. He'd gotten the devil extra prickly already. “Fine then. You want a project, and I want to keep Ms. Smith happy and, by extension, both my arms intact, but does it have to involve my clothes?”

“These!” Lucifer said, holding up a pair of cargo pants littering the floor. “Cannot be labeled clothes. In fact, do you have lighter fluid? Never mind I can immolate anything...”

“You can what?” And he didn’t yip, not really. Okay, maybe a little.

“Well, what all do you think I can do?”

Gary pinched the bridge of his nose. If he’d known that, he’d have just dragged his rucksack to Lux. Let Lucifer accidentally set his own bloody flat on fire.

***

And just cause sometimes I keep notes on things to do one day if little scraps of things come to mind, a couple snippets from stuff that’s just ideas and files for now:

A) From “Hair of the Dog” - 

He should send Miss Lopez home. Lucifer knew that the moment he spotted her arguing with Patrick in a very colorful and completely un-Ella-like mix of Spanish and English curses grumbling about being cut off. A good person would call her an Uber or even a private car---he could more than afford it---and send her home with a spare bottle of aspirin from under the bar to boot. Lux kept plenty of other first aid remedies around. After the hangover she was sure to have in the morning, Miss Lopez would even thank him for such chivalry. 

Except Lucifer was not a good person. 

Just a week ago, after the worst moment of his long suffering life, the detective had more than established that to her, he was not a person at all. And it was perversely impressive that in literally billions of years of existence, including permanent exile from his entire (mostly rubbish) family and burning for millennia in a lake of fire, that the detective yelling about being terrified of him would be the worst, but it was. So, no, Lucifer was not a good person or even pretending to be one right now. And he was well and truly soused for once after a steady effort at not only drinking every handle in his personal bar and half of Lux’s but also from downing more than his fair share---celestial metabolism or not---of some molly from the last party he hosted in the penthouse.

He was probably for a precious hour longer even less clear-headed than Miss Lopez. So when he pulled her away from the bar and smoothed things over with Patrick, he couldn’t quite make himself send her away, especially after she curled into his side. He definitely couldn’t refuse her suggestion to go up to the penthouse either...

B) From “What to Expect When You’re an Expecting Devil” - 

“No.”

He arched an eyebrow back at his therapist, who, to be fair, was also his former lover (and before things got utterly complicated and pear-shaped, he’d still have kept up that arrangement with her; she was that good as he found the uptight ones tended to be when they got a chance to let loose), currently the mother-to-be of his first ever nephew, and the only other person in history that he or Amenadiel knew about who was also dealing with a celestial pregnancy. Which sodding perfect. However, just because they were all kinds of enmeshed and, eventually, would be family and boy had his brother cocked that all up (literally), it didn’t mean he had to always listen to her.

If his track record was anything to go by, he rarely did.

Still, Linda kept her hand held out till he relinquished the handle and then coughed at him till he yielded the tumbler too. There were demons he’d beheaded in Hell for far less insolence. Sad state of affairs he’d reached where a wisp of a thing who couldn’t even hope to come up to his chest got him to acquiesce with merely her glare.

“First of all, if this is even...whatever Remiel thinks she senses and it’s assuredly not that because Dad likes his jokes but that’s...” He stuttered a bit there. “I am not that. Even if I were, I don’t think drinking would hurt the little larva and, maybe if it did, bully for everyone. Surely, by now you’re at least passingly familiar with Revelation?”

Linda’s glare hardened, and she gestured to the bar. “Don’t even. I’m not drinking with an angel-baby cause who even knows and you’re not going to...”

“With the antichrist?”He bit back, tone cutting, but the fight leaking from him. “If Remiel is right---and let’s all just hope she’s not because her spider sense is busted---I’m going to need to a drink or all of them worse than ever now.”

“No, Lucifer. Not self destruction for one or, well, both of you that way.”

He pursed his lips but grabbed a bottle of water from behind the penthouse’s bar instead. “Fine then. I suppose that’s the price of you being the only doctor I know who can help me out on the other end of things, you know, if Remy’s not just cracked.”

Linda blanched. “Nope not doing. First, there’s such a thing as too much family togetherness but also I’m not even close to that kind of doctor and it’s been three decades since medical school. Add in that...” she paused then, fumbling for the politic way to phrase something, he was sure.

“Right, like I said, the antichrist. Maybe. I don’t rightly know, John was very stoned when he wrote all that down. Psychadelic nightmare fuel and all that. So, then, I just go it alone, again, assuming Remy’s right?” His hand strayed to his hip because, honestly, self preserving powers of denial aside, even he knew something was really different about him these last two months.

And it shouldn’t intimidate him to have Linda waddle over to him with her eyes narrowed and, if anyone but Amenadiel ever asked him, it didn’t. Not really.

She sighed and bit her lower lip. “Okay, so not an optimal idea, but I have a friend from my residency and his son’s really talented just tends to fuck up...I mean he has his license but if you pay enough....no questions asked so that was what I was thinking?”

“Question or a statement, love?”

“Little of both, but I’m sure no booze is good booze till seven months from now.”

Lucifer drained his water. “Well, and I thought I knew something about Hell. Clearly, I was wrong.”

*******

***25) Have you ever cried writing a story?***

Yes, I have. Back when I still wrote Smallville, I have a very dark trilogy of stories called the Lara-verse. When writing two parts of that series, Black as Sackcloth and Of Wolves and Lambs, I cried because the first involved some fairly gruesome and distressing lead character deaths and because the second dealt a lot with dissociation and PTSD. Honestly, I never finished the series with the four installment because it was such a weird, hard headspace to be in that I just didn’t have the strength to go back to it. It’s on my livejournal here if anyone reads Smallville - https://legendarytobes.livejournal.com/?skip=30&tag=lara%20verse - people would have to friend me there to read, but if anyone’s that curious, feel free to.

[o-holynight]

Charismatic As Hell And Cute To Boot | All You Have To Do Is Fall In Love AU

Other Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 Author: Michaela - @o-holynight​ Pairing: Joe Mazzello / OFC Rating: T Word Count: 2.9k POV: Michaela Warnings: swearing Summary: After a full day of spending time with each other, neither Joe nor Michaela wants the date to end; So it doesn’t.

Masterlist found here! Series Summary: Best friends and college roommates Ben, Joe, and Gwil, find themselves tangled up with a group of girls who bring out the best (and worst) in them. Series Warnings: drinking, swearing Authors’ Note: Stories can stand alone, but it’s much better when read all together! Not everything is always in the same tense, or same point of view/perspective.

After hours of gushing to Sarah and working up the courage to ask her to ask Ben to ask Joe if he would even be interesting in having my number—I finally opened his contact. Having only a low quality Facebook tagged photo as the sole image to be his contact picture, it would have to do. Though he did look absolutely adorable in it; it was borderline attacking.

I stared at his name for a while longer, debating on whether or not I should even contact him. He was flirting, wasn’t he? Ben did say he liked me a whole lot...for being willing to shit his brains out later...but that’s besides the point. I thought of texting him and asking how he was doing, but maybe that was just adding salt to the wound? Ah, fuck it.

I triple checked my finger placement to make sure that I clicked “Message” and not, god forbid, call or FaceTime him, and started typing.

Hey Joe! How are you feeling? It’s Michaela, by the way.

Send. I really should have found something to preoccupy my mind while waiting for his response, But I didn’t think that far in advance. It seemed that Joe made me act without overthinking first. Oh boy this could be dangerous. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably in reality only 15 long agonizing minutes, I saw the three dots typing.

I clutched my phone to my chest, covering my mouth in fear of making an embarrassing middle schooler squeal. I made myself wait at least a full minute before looking back at my screen, not wanting to seem too eager.

I’m better, now that I’m talking to you. (: God, sorry, was that too cliche? I meant to say, still pretty terrible I feel like shit. And thanks for spelling your name out, I was wondering about that one. (:

He uses so many smiley faces, I can’t help but smile myself. I really think I must be in a dream sequence. And if my alarm goes off any second I will never forgive it.

Oh my god I’m SO SORRY!! Again, I really didn’t know and I would’ve totally made you something else. I really, really wish you didn’t have to suffer on my behalf. Haha yeah, it’s not too hard. Michael with an A.

I flipped around on my stomach, wedging my pillow under my chest, trying to find a comfortable position for a hopefully lengthy conversation.

Alrighty Michael A, that’s officially gonna be what you are in my contacts. And no, I’m not suffering...anymore.

We continued talking for hours on end. Lots of get-to-know-you questions ripped straight from questionnaires off the first three or so pages of Google. I’m not sure how we agreed upon this but the two of us were officially going on a date the very next day. Joe brought up this really good smoothie place in the middle of central campus, and I would have happily watched paint dry with the guy. So of course I agreed. We settled on lunchtime, which means there were only about 8 hours left until I could see him again. Which was one of the only reasons I was okay when he didn’t respond to my final text message, signaling that he had probably fallen asleep, like any self respecting human would have done at 4:00am.

The next morning I was flitting around the apartment like a madman at 10:00 am. “Guys what do I wear!! I want to be cute, but I can’t wear a dress we’ll be walking all around campus and my thighs will chafe and that’s not cute for anyone—“

Sarah grabs me by the shoulders. “Listen, just wear leggings and a t-shirt. It’s what you wore last time! It’s what he fell for you in.”

I blushed when she mentioned him falling for me. “Yeah but if I wear leggings and a t-shirt again, he will think all I wear is leggings and a t-shirt.”

“That is all you wear…” Ella piped up from the hallway, as she appeared in my room. “Besides your gay as hell Hawaiian shirt collection. But maybe save that for the second date, eh?”

“Okay FINE, but I’m going long sleeved this time. It’s a little breezy out there.” I said, checking my weather app for the third time this morning. I figured I’d be cold walking around, as well as drinking a smoothie.

At exactly one minute past twelve, I got a text saying that Joe was outside. My heart began its palpitations and I didn’t know if it would ever stop.

“Wish me luck!” I whispered as I passed my roommates, on my way to answer the door.

“Good luck! Get fucked!” they said in response, and I shot them a dagger-like glare before opening the door to greet Joe.

He was wearing jeans and also sporting a long sleeved t-shirt. It made him look so cozy that I could snuggle right up to him, but that would be a bit much. Or so I thought. He pulled me into a hug in the doorway, and I could have melted. His arms were so strong as they wrapped around my torso, and my face nestled tightly against his broad chest. “Hey! Long time no see, Michael A.” he said as he pulled away from the hug. I barely wanted to release my arms from around him, but I did.

“Back atcha...Joey.” I said, trying to come up with a similar nickname on the spot.

He cringed. “Oof, no one’s called me that in years.” he said with a fond smile.

We left the apartment after a couple of whoops and whistles of encouragement from Sarah. “Sorry about her. I think she’s just really excited.”

“Oh I don’t mind. Sarah’s great.” Joe chuckled. “Are you really excited?”

“I am.” I said, looking up at him, to find him staring up at me, smiling sweetly. It made me blush and return my gaze to the ground.

The two of us walked around in a comfortable silence for a while until we reached the smoothie shop. Joe opened the door for me, and followed behind. As we were standing in line, we poked fun at the silly words that they tried to pass off as smoothie names. I ordered a Kowabunga, some tropical coconut mango thing, and Joe snickered as he ordered the SOB, strawberry, orange, banana smoothie. “Man they just keep getting weirder huh.” He insisted on paying for both of our smoothies, though I tried to hand him a $5 bill, he snuck it back into my waistband where I kept my phone. “That...wasn’t supposed to be indicative of anything, that’s just...it’s where you had your money—“

“Hey, it’s fine Joey, don’t worry about it.” I said laughing at his flusteredness, grabbing his arm and walking out of the smoothie shop.

Once out through the doors, I dropped my hold on his arm, but he quickly slinked his hand down to grab ahold of mine, lacing our fingers together.

“This okay?” he asked, rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand. It sent tingles up my arm and directly to my heart. But all I could do was nod my head rapidly and smile.

We walked and talked for a while, sipping on our smoothies. “Joe,” I said draining the last of my smoothie before tossing it into a nearby trash can. “I have a confession.”

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding a bit nervous. “Confess away.”

“I’m allergic to fruit.” I said, looking up at him and pursing my lips.

“What!? And you let me bring you to a smoothie shop. You’re worse than me with the cheese! Why are you just telling me this now?” He asked, hitting me in the side with both of our hands clasped together.

“Because I wanted to finish my smoothie before you made me get rid of it. It’s nothing too bad. It’s just like when you eat too much pineapple and your mouth gets really sore, except it’s all fruit all the time.” I said, used to my spiel.

“I can’t say that’s ever happened to me, guess I gotta eat more pineapple and feel the burn.” he said, sipping on his last bit of smoothie, and reaching awkwardly towards a trash can, unwilling to let go of my hand.

We talked for a bit more, walking past buildings that we both had classes in, telling class horror stories, making sure to let each other know which professors to never sign up for a class with. I learned that Joe is a film major, and hopes to be a director one day.

“I think you’re quite suited to being in front of the camera too.”

“Really? You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re charismatic as hell, and cute to boot.” I said knocking my hip into his.

He smiled at the ground, rubbing at his neck nervously. “Aw shucks, you’re makin’ me blush now.”

“Good.” I said, trying to be a little more forward than I usually am. I really liked this guy, and I desperately needed not to blow it this time.

“I like film though. I really do. Learning how to make a scene come out just right. Seeing it go from a small viewfinder to the big screen. The editing process. It’s all great. But I’m really into all the old cameras and shit. My dad got me this camcorder with a whole bunch of tapes for by birthday last year and I’ve just been fuckin around with that lately. Something about the old method just really adds something special. Oh...sorry—I uh, swear a lot.” He said, going on and on about his passions, as I studied his face. When he talked about what made him happy, I could see a sparkle in his eye that made him ten times more attractive than he already was.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. I love a good potty mouth.” I smirked. “So what do you do in your free time then?”

He shoved his free hand in his jeans pocket before speaking. “Well, like I said I’m into all that old film, so I really enjoy photography too. Digital and film. There’s a great dark room on campus that you can sign up for time in, it’s really cool. The process smells like rotting asshole but the results are worth it I like to think.”

“Oh I’m familiar. I took a photography class in high school. I have a film camera lying around my house somewhere back home. I should bring it back with me next time I go.” I said heart soaring that we had something in common. “Do you work?”

“Oh yeah. I work at Dick’s. Sporting Goods. Not a strip club or anything.” he joked.

“I know what Dick’s is.” I whispered, before giggling. “Yeah Sarah goes there all the time.”

“Really? Don’t think I’ve ever seen her in before.”

“Well, she says apparently they have the best sports bras in town? Maybe you need to spend a little more time in the lingerie section of your sporting goods store and you’ll find her.”

We walked aimlessly for a little while longer. Once we had lapped the entire campus twice without realizing, we decided maybe we should be heading back. But we both knew that neither of us wanted to leave.

As we were driving back to my place in his truck, he had his hand resting on my knee, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

We walked extremely slowly up to my residence, and lingered in the hallway outside my door. I was holding loosely onto his thumb as I leaned back against the doorframe, just wanting some form of contact, as we had barely let go of each other the whole day.

“Um, so they just released a new show on Netflix…” Joe started.

“Wanna come in and watch it?” I asked immediately, knowing nothing about the show, the genre, the storyline, the cast. But again, I’d watch paint dry just to spend more time with him.

“Well sheesh, buy me a drink first why don’t ya, I’m not that easy.” he snickered. “Yeah sure great let’s do it.” Joe said, smiling that I had gone for his bait.

I unlocked the door and he walked in, looking around for a second, taking in all the attempts at home decor that the three of us could muster. He nodded in approval.

“Well since you’re in already guess you won’t be needing that drink after all.”

“Hey, it’s 5:00 somewhere, and that somewhere is here!” he said, glancing down at his watch, noticing it was almost half past 5.

“Any drink in particular you fancy? Preferably something I could make with a limited stock of ingredients.”

“Rum and coke is fine.” Joe smiled, taking a tentative seat on the big comfy chair that faced the TV.

I whipped it up quickly, making one for myself as well. More coke than rum though, for me. “Sorry we don’t have any limes left. Ben used them all last week. It’s a simple drink, cause I’m a simple girl. It’s not the Four Seasons or anything.”

“Hey, Ben works there, you know. He should know a thing or two about the importance of proper garnishes. I’m only kidding. It’s great, thank you.”

I paused for a half a second wondering if there was room for two on the seat he was sitting on. He must’ve picked up on this, because he wiggled over slightly and patted the cushion beside him. I smiled and sat down eagerly. The cushion was very soft and worn, and it dipped down in the center, making both of us slide towards each other, thighs touching. It was nice.

I leaned forward to grab the remote off of the coffee table, and when I leaned back into the chair, Joe’s arm was situated around the back. He placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently, and I leaned into his chest, practically laying on top of him.

At that moment, Sarah and Ella heard the familiar tone of Netflix being turned on, and emerged from their rooms.

“Michaela!! Why didn’t you tell us you were back, tell us all about your day with—Joe!!” Sarah started, pausing when she saw Joe’s head poke up from the back of the chair, my head peeking out shortly after.

“Nice place you got, McDonald. Where’d you get all this top notch decor, Target?” Joe teased, his hand moving down from my shoulder to resting right above my waist. I bit my lip to try and prevent any further reaction, though I wanted to scream giddily.

“As a matter of fact yes, what the fuck is wrong with that.” Sarah said crossing her arms in front of her.

“Seems a little cliche for a place full of white girls.”

“Okay, mister liquor bottle, you’ve got a lotta balls coming in here like that.” Sarah chuckled as she sat on the arm of the adjacent sofa. That’s when she noticed that his arm was wrapped tightly around my waist.

“I see you two are getting comfortable with each other, I’ll leave you to it… Ella let's go watch something in here.” Sarah said, pulling Ella away from the two of us so we could enjoy the rest of our date.

The night went on, and the conversation never dulled. Whatever series was rolling on Netflix was more of a background noise for the ramblings between the two of us sitting on the big comfy chair. Over the hours, Joe had gradually slid down in his seat, head resting on the back cushion. I had my legs draped over his, and his fingers were tracing mindlessly over the sliver of skin exposed at the ankle of my leggings. It all felt so natural, like we had known each other for years. Except everything was new. Every fact I learned about the man made me fall a little deeper for him. We had so much in common despite living such different childhoods.

We lost all track of time, and didn’t even notice when Netflix timed out on the ‘Are you still watching?’ screen. I don’t even know who fell asleep first, but I woke up in the middle of the night to a room barely illuminated by the dark light of the TV’s screensaver. The blanket that usually laid across the back of the chair was wrapped around Joe and I, and his arm was slung over my middle, gripping me tightly, holding me close. I rubbed my eyes and adjusted my position, pulling the blanket further up on my body. Joe stirred at my movements and gave a little stretch.

“Don’t worry about moving, ‘wanna stay like this.” I whispered softly, moving in even closer, laying my head onto his chest and wrapping my arms around his torso.

His hand came to rest in my hair, stroking it softly before falling back asleep. The sound of his breath evening out and the slowing of his heart beat lulled me back to sleep as well. I could definitely get used to this.

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

@a-night-at-the-0pera @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @lelifesaver @redspecialty @rrrogahtaylahhhh

#borhap #borhap boys #ben hardy #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #ben hardy x ofc #gwilym lee x ofc #joe mazzello x ofc #fic series #borhap cast #borhap cast au #borhap au #college au #ben hardy smut #gwilym lee smut #joe mazzello smut #ben hardy fluff #gwilym lee fluff #joe mazzello fluff #ben hardy au #gwilym lee au #joe mazzello au #me #ayhtdifil #all you have to do is fall in love #fall in love au

[team-shithead]

november 24

"I only ask for one thing, Philip, just this one thing!"

"I'm not a little kid anymore! God, it's just one night!"

At the foot of the stairs, Alex and Ella are leaning against the wall, peering up into the hallway with morbid curiosity.

"Pip's gonna win," Ella says.

"Your brother definitely gets his temper from Daddy, but I've known him for twice as long as you've been alive and I'm pretty sure he'd got this in the bag," Alex says.

"Okay, it's a bet, then."

"You have no idea what you're doing!" John shouts.

"Because you don't trust me with anything!" Philip shouts back.

"What's your wager?" Alex asks. Not that it matters--John will win handily, if only because John is competitive as shit and has the power to end this argument by asserting his authority and moving on.

"If I win, I get to come with you to work Friday night," Ella says.

"Okay," he says. "If I win, you have to clean your room."

She wrinkles her nose--she looks just like John when she does it--and offers her hand. They shake just as the voices from upstairs peak again.

"This is stupid!" Philip shouts. "Why the hell should I listen to you anyway?"

Ella raises her eyebrows."Pip said 'hell.'"

"Because I'm your fucking father and I said so!"

Ouch. In the fourteen years that they've been parents, John, Eliza, and Alex had gone out of their way to avoid vague and meaningless orders like that, John most of all.

Ella is torn between being scandalized and delighted. "Daddy said the F-word."

"Oh, baby, your dad's got the absolute worst mouth of almost anyone I've ever known," Alex says. They're both still looking up the stairs at Philip's closed door. "Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and Dad and I were in school, he could construct entire sentences using only the F-word." He does not tell her how weirdly sexy he found that--finds that--because she's his daughter and he'd rather save those mortification points for when she's older and they'll be even more embarrassing.

Eliza appears behind them, frowning, summoned by John's shitty parenting.

"Did he just--"

"Yep," Alex says.

"I told him--"

"I know," Alex says. "I did too. Like, twenty times. But he's John and he's my husband and I love him to the ends of the earth, but I've literally spent over two decades trying to get him to talk about this shit and I've made about three inches of progress."

Ella's attention has turned from Philip's door to her parents, her eyes sharp with keen interest. She doesn't even mention the swear word that accidentally slipped from Alex's mouth. It's getting harder and harder to remember he's not supposed to talk like that in front of the kids now that their kids are older and smarter and easier to talk to about real world issues.

"El, why don't you go see what your sister is up to?" he suggests.

"She's coloring or something," Ella says dismissively.

"Well, why don't you join her?"

"Because I'm not a baby?" Goddammit, who would have guessed that their kids would grow up imitating their smartass parents?

Everyone. Everyone guessed that.

"Eleanora, don't call your sister a baby," Eliza says.

"And," Alex adds, "instead of talking back, scram."

"But how am I gonna find out who won the bet?" she asks.

"Bet?" Eliza's eyes narrow.

Ella tries to look innocent, but she looks too much like John to pull it off.

"Scram, kid," Alex says, just as the voices from upstairs start to rise again.

"--like this?!"

"Don't test me, Philip James Hamilton!"

"UGH!"

The door to Philip's room slams open and El goes wide-eyed, then disappears down to the playroom in the basement. Philip marches towards the stairs, John standing in the doorway to his room, shaking. Eliza looks between the two of them and apparently decides that John is the one most in need of compassion just now. She swoops up the stairs and grabs John's hands, pulling him up to the third floor, to his and Alex's bedroom, without another word.

Which means Alex is left with the shitty job. He grabs Pip's shoulder as he tries to storm by.

"Not so fast, bud," he says. "Come on."

Philip wants to argue, but he closes his mouth when he looks at Alex's face. Instead, he sighs and lets himself be dragged to the dining room table, then pushed into a chair. Alex walks around the table and sits across from him, leaning forward on his forearms. He looks at Philip for a moment and is bowled over by how much of John is in him. It's the great mystery of their family--how Philip, conceived with Eliza and Alex's genetic material, looks so much like John so frequently. His freckles are confined to an even spray across his nose and cheeks and his face is rounder and his eyes skew more towards the brown end of hazel where John's are more green-hazel, but it's still there--the curly hair, the way his ears stick out a little, the way he flashes all his teeth when he smiles.

And, even more so than the physical characteristics there is, of course, the attitude. Fuck, but petulant Philip puts him in mind of petulant John, of the way John used to get when he was depressed and hurting and didn't know how to channel it except through anger and shitty remarks.

"It's one week a year, Pip," Alex finally says. "One night, even. Why do you have to give your dad such a hard time?"

"Because it makes no sense!" Philip explodes.

"As much as you don't want to believe it, there are reasons we do these things, okay?" Alex takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Dad and Mom and I have always tried to be as honest and open with you as we can be, and I'm sorry that we can't say more about this, but you have to trust us, Pip."

"Why, though?" Philip asks. The anger is morphing into something else, something closer to frustration than true anger. "I wasn't doing anything dangerous! I was just going to stay over Devin's--she's got a new game and we were gonna do an online match with Georges and one of his friends."

"I know," Alex says, and he searches for words, for how to articulate it in a way that will get through to him. "But you have to...sometimes, you do things that don't seem important because they're important to someone else, okay? You being home tonight is important to Dad, and I really don't think we ask so much of you that you can't do this one thing for him."

Alex must have hit the right combination of honesty and reproach, because Philip looks down at his hands, his shoulders hunched.

"I just don't get why it's so important," he mutters. "I'm practically an adult what's he gonna be like when I go off to college? Will I have to go home then, too? What about when I get married and have kids?"

"Oh, right, I forgot that at the advanced age of fourteen you're now an adult," Alex says. "How you have time for high school with your fulltime job and mortgage and running a household, I'll never understand, but good on you."

"Ugh, Dad." Philip rolls his eyes spectacularly. Another thing that makes him look like John.

"Anyway," Alex says. "It's...complicated. And, it's not my story to tell."

"Why?"

"Because I promised your dad I wouldn't, for one, but also...I don't know all the details myself." He hopes he doesn't let on how much he hates that fact, how much it kills him that John won't share all of this with him. How badly he wants to shake John after he wakes up from these nightmares, beg him to share the burden. But John's still holding back, after over two decades together, after being married for one of them. They don't fight like they used to, but when they do, it's still about John's secrets. "But, hey, if you're so keen on being an adult, I'll sketch the shape of it for you."

For the first time, Philip looks hesitant. Still, he nods slowly, squaring his shoulders to look taller or more mature or who knows what.

"Okay." Alex exhales. "Okay. So. This started back when Dad and I were in grad school, when we were working for Grunkle George. We had a case--actually, it was one of the first cases your mom came on with us. God, I forgot that. But, shit, that's not important. What's important is that some things happened and the result is that Dad has...Dad has these dreams, sometimes."

"I know about Dad's dreams," Philip interrupts.

Alex shoots him a look. "Not those. These are different. Or the same. Or...something. They come from the same place, probably, but they're not the same thing. These are recurring. The same ones, every year. You know how he gets so weird in July, sometimes? How he gets so weird about me?"

"Clingy," Philip says.

"Yeah," Alex says. "And how he gets weird in August? In a different way?" Philip nods. "Those things and this...." He can't give away John's confidences, but there has to be a way to talk around this. "It's hard to explain and, like I said, it's not actually my story--he's gotta be the one to tell you. And, to be honest, there are a lot of things he hasn't told me. Mommy might know a little more, I think, but I can tell you that they're about us. They're about me in July and they're about you now. The same dream for almost a week, and then they stop and they don't come back until the next year. Detailed dreams. Not the sort of thing that fades when you wake up, something clear and real and lasting that sticks with him. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the same thing and it's something bad and it's something about us. About you, Pip. Every time he's tried to sleep for the past week, he's seen something awful happening to his baby. And it's scary. It scares him. It scares me, if I'm being honest."

Philip is quiet. His attention is focused on Alex, still, his eyes alert, his mouth curved downward. He wants more information. Alex wishes he had more information to give.

"Imagine," Alex says softly, "every time you try to go to sleep, you see something terrible happening to one of us. And it feels real and it doesn't go away. And imagine you're Daddy, and you know that sometimes there's a reason your dreams feel real."

Philip shifts, pulling one of his legs up underneath him, something that he's technically not supposed to do on the dining room furniture if he's wearing shoes, but that's always been Eliza and John's hill to die on more than his, so he lets it go. He leans on his elbows, staring  off to the right, and chews on his lip. When he finally turns back to Alex, he's serious and a little ashamed.

"It would suck," he says, and Alex laughs, unexpectedly. Philip smiles a little.

"Yeah," Alex says. "Yeah, it would suck. And it does suck for him. That's all I want you to think about, okay? That we ask very little from you, when it comes down to it, and we let you get away with far more than you'll ever know we know about, but this is important. This is important to your father, but to me and Mom, too. So, please. One week a year, at most, but at least this one night, help us out and stay close to home."

"Yeah," Philip says. "Yeah, okay. I can do that."

The set of his shoulders, the begrudging expression on his face, the curve of his mouth...Alex just shakes his head.

"What?" Philip asks.

"Nothing," Alex says. "Just...." He tilts his head to the side and looks at Philip again. When he speaks again, his voice is soft. "Just, sometimes I look at you and you remind me so much of Daddy."

"I know," Philip says, ducking his head. "The weird genetic lottery thing."

"Not even that," Alex says. Then amends, "Not just that. You do look like him sometimes, somehow. More so when you were younger and your hair was longer. Back in the day, Dad wore his hair long too. Curly, just like yours."

"I remember."

"His is short now too, and greyer, and it's hot, but--"

"Ew, Pops."

Alex grins. "Hey, one day you're gonna be happy and grateful your parents are still madly in love with each other. But that's not the point. The point is, it's not how you look that reminds me of Dad sometimes, it's how you act. You act just like him, just like he was when he was younger, when I first met him. As much as we call El his mini-me, her temperament is much slyer than his was. He was much more like you."

"Mom says that, sometimes," Philip says.

"Mom doesn't know the half of it," Alex admits. "Your mom centered us both a lot. Before we met her, we were both a little wilder, and even after we met her, we just did our best to hide the wild parts from her. But, you know, the more time we spent with her, the less we let those parts get the better of us, until eventually the compulsion was gone entirely. Mommy made us better people because we were both kind of assholes, but this goes beyond that. Dad was...Dad was...."

He doesn't know how to explain it without airing more of John's dirty laundry. For one thing, while they've been fairly open with the kids about the realities of the depression, PTSD, and three different types of anxiety that color their family, there's a difference between explaining that Daddy takes a pill every morning so he doesn't have to be sad all the time and revealing the realities of those fraught years of depressive episodes and suicidal ideation and lingering trauma that shaped John's personality into what it was when Alex met him. For another, though Henry Laurens might not be as much of a fixture in the Schuyler-Hamilton-Laurens house as the Washingtons and the Schuylers, the birth of his grandchildren led to a lot of hatchet-burying that Alex maybe did not entirely agree with. The kids know that John and his father aren't close, but they don't need to know the gory details. Besides, he's confident that while John's attitude was the result of acting out against his family, Philip's like this because he's imitating his family, because he was raised by John and Alex and Eliza, with frequent interjections from Angelica and Peggy and Molly and Herc and the Manning-Lawrences.

"Dad was a lot like you," he settles on. "Which is probably why he dotes on you so much."

Philip actually blushes. "He doesn't dote."

"He does," Alex says. "Which is, I imagine, why you're so mad that he's not letting you get away with something."

Philip frowns, but doesn't refute it. From the dining room, they can hear footsteps on the stairs. Philip releases a long breath.

"You've gotta apologize to your dad," Alex tells him.

"I know," Philip mutters.

"Tell him you love him," Alex continues.

"I know," Philip insists, and pushes himself up from the table, sighing like he's headed to his execution. Alex joins him, putting an arm around his shoulders and leading him out into the living room as Eliza and John cross it. John looks old and it breaks Alex's heart all over again. His instinct is always, always to go to John when he's upset, but he knows he's not what John needs right now. Instead, he nudges Philip forward. Philip's shoulders are slumped and he's wringing his hands, not quite looking at John.

"I'm sorry, Papa," he says. Alex and Eliza exchange a look--Philip hasn't called John that in almost a decade, the parental nomenclature shifting as the kids grew up and simply began to use 'Dad' for both of them.

"I know, baby," John says. He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead, then opens his arms. Philip walks right into his embrace and they hug, tight and fierce. "I should tell you some things. I should tell you some things because they're about you, so you should know parts of it, at the very least. You're right--you're not a baby anymore, and I need to trust you with this." He opens his eyes and looks right at Alex. "I need to trust all of you with this."

Alex holds his gaze and nods. John offers him a weak smile.

"It's okay," Philip says. "You were right--I knew you didn't want me to go out, I shouldn't have tried to sneak out. It's only one night. I won't do it again."

Alex can hear John's sigh from across the room, relief pouring out of him. "Thank you," he whispers.

“I love you,” Philip says quietly.

“I love you too, kiddo,” John says.

They break apart and John holds Philip by the shoulders, smiling crookedly. Philip smiles back and through some weird twist of the universe, it's exactly the same smile. Alex thinks his heart might burst.

"Go and help your mom with dinner," John tells him. "And tonight, after the girls go to bed, you and me and Dad and Mommy are going to have a talk, okay?"

Philip nods. "Yeah. Thanks, Dad."

John releases him and Eliza steps up to nudge his shoulder. "Go into the kitchen and start washing the potatoes off, okay? I'll be in in a minute."

Once he's gone, John's entire body seems to slump forward. Alex crosses to him quickly, wrapping him up in a hug.

"Gumdrop," he murmurs. John's fingertips dig into his shoulders as he returns the hug so hard all the air seems to whoosh out of Alex's chest.

"Fuck," John says. He tries to laugh, but it doesn't come out--his voice is too tremulous for the sound to catch.

"Mon coeur, mon étoile," Alex says. "You're shaking."

"I just kept thinking, what if this is it? What if we have this fight and this is what makes him go out and do whatever it is that...that...." He breathes out, rough and heavy, into the crook of Alex's neck.

"You've gotta stop it with this magical thinking bullshit, John," Alex says. He presses the heel of his palm into John's back, running it up and down his spine, hoping to soothe the last of his lingering anxieties. "No one can predict the future, not even you. Take a breath. Clear your mind."

"Never been good at that."

Alex wishes he could offer the thing that makes his own head quiet down, but as that's John, he's not sure how helpful it would be.

"What needs to stop," Eliza says from behind them, "is the secrets."

Alex and John break apart just enough to turn so they can both look at her. Her voice is soft and quiet, but her face is determined. Alex knows this conversation--it's not the first time they're having it.

"I know," she continues before either of them can protest, "'Secrets and lies aren't the same thing.' I get it. But to cling to this determination not to lie to each other, but to hold onto these secrets for so long...I don't want to say 'I told you so,' but...."

John sighs and tucks his head under Alex's chin. Eliza's not wrong; they're clinging to a pact they made when they were twenty-three and stupid. Years have passed, decades, and they have a family and lives they never could have predicted back then. John's resistance to talking about his feelings may have been cute when they were in grad school, but at this point, it's pathological and Alex is nothing if not an enabler. They've made strides on so many other things, mostly thanks to Eliza--John's mental health, Alex's anxieties, their future, the lines between their business and their personal life, their fears, their hopes--but this topic has always stayed off the table, the things that John sees that aren't the future or the past or the present, but some other thing that's all of that and none of it simultaneously. The only people who know the gory details of all of that are Herc and Washington, and it's driven Alex crazy since they were twenty-three.

"After Pip is in bed," John says, surprising Alex. He was sure John would put up more of a fight. "We'll talk to Pip about the broad strokes, about the dreams, and then we'll talk about the rest."

All these years of secrets, who knew it would be this easy to crack them open?

Before Alex can express as much, there's a low rumble of voices from downstairs that breaks into shouting a moment later.

"Ellie, stop it!" Angie shrieks.

"Don't be such a baby!" Ella snaps back, "I'm not even doing anything!"

Then, as Alex is about to call noses on not cleaning up the pre-pubescent bloodbath in the basement, there's an ominous thunk from the kitchen.

"Uh, Mom?" Philip calls out. "Um...I think I made a mistake."

The shrieking downstairs intensifies. God forbid they ever have a moment of silence in this house.

"I'm going to go see how our supposed genius son complicated cleaning potatoes," Eliza says. "You two go pull the girls apart."

Eliza disappears into the kitchen and Alex and John head towards the stairs. John stops Alex, right at the top, grabbing his wrist and squeezing it.

"Hey," he says softly.

"Hi," Alex replies automatically, and John grins.

"I just want you to know--I just want to say...." He frowns. "I don't know. I don't know what I want to say. Except that I'm sorry. That this has gone on for so long and I haven't let you in. Kids aside, you're the person I love most in the world and I wasn't--I wanted to--I never meant--"

"It's okay," Alex says.

"It's not," John insists. "It never has been. I wish I told you all of it at the start. I wish I told you how tangled up it all is. But I didn't want you to worry and then it just...it got...I don't know. It got more complicated."

"Should we schedule a third talk after the one with Pip and the one with Eliza?" Alex means it as a joke, but John shrugs.

"Maybe," he says. "We used to have those check-ins every six months. We haven't had one in a while."

It's been a few years since the last time they took an afternoon off of work to sit down and have a discussion about the trajectory of their relationship, their family, their lives. They started back when Alex began seeing Eliza, but it was such a good habit that they kept it up for years. Then the kids started to get bigger, started to load up on sports and clubs and lessons, and their own schedules were packed even tighter as demands for their professional time continued to rise...Alex thinks Pip was still in elementary school the last time he and John had a check-in.

"Maybe we should," Alex agrees, and John shifts his grip so they're holding hands. They smile at each other, and Alex feels twenty-three all over again.

"ELLIE, STOP!" Angie screams below them and then bursts into tears.

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" Ella shouts up the stairs in anticipation of the punishment to come.

The moment passes and Alex feels every one of his years as he looks at John and sighs. There will be time to talk later. For now, they need to go back to pretending they have all the answers for at least as long as it takes to pull Ella and Angie off of each other.

It's going to be a long night.

#john #philip #alex #eliza #ella #angie #fic #apocrypha

[templarhalo]

Endryd Haar: The Riven Hound Chapter 2

 Thanks to  @sisterofsilence for her constructive criticism and loaning me Tribune Arlette Augusta Amon Rakaposhi Gorro, her amazing and badass female Custodes.  Did I mention she's the Emperor's Equerry?

“Let's  go over this again traitor.  Your legion was exchanging gene-seed data with the World Eaters  and successfully produced Gene-Seed that combined traits from the World Eaters and Emperor's Children Gene-seed that could theoretically could produce a stronger Astartes with a minimal chance of implant  rejection.  Correct?” Kal said softly.

 “That’s correct.”  Titus said.

 The Emperor’s Children’s face was a mass of precision knife cuts courtesy of Boian.  Haar had broken his nose again.

 “Why'd you combine World Eaters Gene-seed with your own legion’s? Wouldn't it taint your “Perfect” Gene-seed?” Boian asked.

 “On the contrary, The World Eaters Gene-Seed was most suited for the augments we wanted to add and the  accelerated implantation in hosts. In addition it had the lowest rate of implant rejection after  the Sons of Horus and Iron Warriors, both which were rejected due to difficulties in  combining the samples. Chief Apothecary Bile decided  that the World Eaters gene seed was perfect for this  project.”

 “What role does to that girl in that stasis coffin play in this little project of yours?” Haar  asked.

 “She is someone my master has been looking for a very long time.  You see, before we found her, this project was all theoretical. To borrow a mortal phrase. A wet dream.  But you see Ruri and I found this girl when we were attacking a world.. She was  the daughter of all some imperial noble Daken killed and her genetic profile indicates she is a perfectly compatible  match to our hybrid  Gene-Seed.”

 “You don't mean to-

 “ Oh yes, she would be our first test subject.  The Blade of Chemos was supposed to pick me up and take the girl and I to Master Bile’s workshop.  He was to supervise her implantation  personally. And considering the girl is young and healthy, with excellent  physical  traits…”

 Haar put the pieces  together.

 “I remember a time when your legion  would condone such acts.” Haar said

 “My legion?”  Titus said incredulously  “It was Gahlan Surlak, Master of Induction for your legion  who proposed the project to Master Fabius.” Titus said.

 Haar was silent.

 “We'll have some more questions for you later.” Haar said.

 “I won't be going anywhere.” Titus said.

 Haar, Boian and Kal left the cell.

 “I can't believe the traitors really are that desperate.” Boian said.

 “Of course they are.  With the loss of Bodt to Autek Mor and his Iron Hands and the  heavy casualties they regularly sustain, our former brothers will do anything  to keep the legion’s numbers up.  And Horus knows every Astartes he loses is one he won't have at Terra. The bastard knows the scales are balancing out. “ Haar said.

 The three  strode through the hallways of the the Tyrannis.  The Tyrannis’ hallways were empty.   When they weren’t in battle, the  mortal crew was sleeping like the dead.

 With the exception of Ella who shot them a glare that could bore through Terminator Armor as the three Astartes walked into  the apothecarium.

 “Remind me why I’m  here again and not in my nice warm bed?” she asked out loud.  The Flag Captain was clad in a plain white slip, wool slippers and an oversized fur shawl.  He hair was free of the braid it had been for hours and her blood red locks tumbled past her shoulders in a messy sprawl.

 “ Because you are a woman, Flag-Captain.  The trauma this girl probably endured means she might have a rather violent reaction to four Astartes.”  Apothecary  Danek said as he checked the readouts on the old cogitator that was hooked up to  the stasis coffin.

 Like Haar and Boian, Danek had been inducted long before the Twelfth Legion became War Hounds .   Danek  was dark of skin, and his face a mix of scars, stitches and burns.   What patches of hair he had leff was sloppily cut, almost like it had been done  with a combat knife.The good apothecary was missing his right ring finger and his left eye was a bionic.  His right eye was the the red rimmed one of someone who had spent a good portion of their career around rad weaponry.   His  body was all but broken, held together by artificially replaced organs, bionics and a desire for vengeance.  The right side of his throat was a partial augmetic due to phosphex burns . This also had  required the removal of his Betcher’s Gland.   The lower right side of his chest was all bionic organs and metal ribs. One of his three lungs and part of his Osetic kidney had been blown to bits.  One lung was partially collapsed and kept working  because of a device attached to his  chest plate that pumped oxygen directly to it.  His Multi Lung had been poisoned by  radiation and Death Guard chemical weapons. One of his Progenoid Glands had been destroyed as well.  His right shoulder had a Rotor Cannon round embedded in it. His body, his right leg in particular was  a mass of tumors from aggressive cancers.  Worse his Larraman’s organ  was slowly breaking down and not healing his body as quickly as it use too.   His Mark III Power armor was as broken as his body.  He had long disposed of the right gauntlet and he had replaced his right shoulder pad with a piece of Scout armor.  His left thigh-plate was held together by two crossed chains. His left Pauldron was carpeted with molecular bonding studs and there was plenty of  cracks that had been filled with solvent.  Deep gouges covered nearly every surface of the armor and much of the original black paint was now gunmetal grey.  Dried blood dotted the armor as well.

 Erud said he would repair the armor one day, but he had never gotten around to it.

 Danek limped over to the Cogitator, the right leg joint of his armor sparked a little bit.

 “We're readyEndryd.” Danek said.

 “Do it.” Haar said.

 Danek nodded and pressed a switch .  

 Steam hissed and pistons fired.  The cover of the Stasis-Coffin retracted .

 “Vitals are green so far. Brain activity is speeding up. Her core body temperature is rising .” Danek said.

 The girl rose from the coffin like she was waking from a nightmare. Her eyes, a deep brown the color of freshly tilled soil or chocolate darted around the room .

 ‘“Where am I? Who are you?” she said.

 “Calm yourself child.  We mean you no harm.” Danek said in a soothing tone.. This was rather difficulty, as a throat ravaged by cancers and partially augmetic didn’t lend itself to a comforting voices.

 “Can you tell us your name?” Danek asked.

 “It's Vesta sir. Vesta..”

 The girl put a hand to her head.

 “Headaches?” Danek asked.

 “Yes sir. I’m sorry, but I can't remember  anything.  I don't even  remember my last name. “

 “That’s alright. I am sure your memories will return in time. I am Apothecary Danek.   The other Astartes you see are Praetor Endryd Haar, Chaplain Kal Jakar  and Sergeant  Boian Traven.  The woman is Flag Captain Ella Thylin.”

 “I.  It’s  nice to meet you.  Forgive me for asking, but I don't know what legion you're from.”

 “We left our legions behind us. We are Blackshields.  Space Marines who remained loyal to the Emperor and the Imperium while our brother became traitors. “ Haar  said softly.

 “ Traitors.  I remember the Emperor's  Children.  They and the World Eaters came to- “ Vesta put her hand on her head.

 “ Don't worry about trying to remember Vesta.  We're going to our best to help you.  Can you step out of the coffin?” Haar asked with a gentleness in his voice that surprised  himself.

 “ Yes. “ She rose and then paused.

 “Apothecary  Danek, do- do you have some clothes for me?” she asked timidly. Vesta wrapped her arms across her developing chest.

 It was in that moment that the three Astartes and Ella realised the girl was naked.

 “ I knew I was forgetting something.” Danek said.

 After Ella wordlessly handed Vesta her shawl.  Kal had gone down to the supply a room and returned. with a set of grey robes and some boots. The robes didn't exactly fit, but they would do until they could get her measured for some  better clothing.

 Danek had given her a physical, taken blood and tissue samples and pronounced her in good health. Albeit partially  amnesiac . He also explained why the traitors wanted her.

 “ Your memory must have wiped before they put you in the Stasis casket. Probably in the misguided notion that it would reinforce your hypno-indoctrination.  Which it does not.   I can't promise your entire  memory will return, but some should come back to you over time.”

 Kal and Endryd had then taken her to the cafeteria and watched her scarf down a surprising amount of food.  It was quite amusing to see, as Vesta was trying  to be dainty and have good manners,while trying to get as much food in her mouth as possible.

 After that they the taken her to the Tyrannis’ seamstress, Philone.  Philone had been a civilian, an old woman whose world and husband had been lost to the traitors.  She sewed and mended the garments and assisted in other duties aboard  the ship.  She was a fine  old lady full of wisdom and had a tongue as sharp as a Chainsword.

 Philone took some measurements and soon had seven robes produced for Vesta.

 Unlike Vesta’s ill-fitting and baggy grey robe, the robes Philone spun for her,were made of the same beige cloth meant for a Remembrancer’s robes and fit her perfectly.

 “You’ll fit in just fine at Terra.”  Haar said.

 “Terra!” Philone exclaimed.

 “ We need to speak with Lady Arlette  Philone, the traitors want Vesta and we need to plan a course of action . “

 “You'll need a better outfit if you're going to Terra girl!” Philone said. She held up a strip of purple cloth and scrutinized Vesta.

 “The robes you made me are fine Lady Philone.” Vesta said shylly.

 Philone glared at Vesta. It was a glare that even Haar found intimidating.

 “Nonsense Vesta! You're meeting with Lady Arlette herself! She’s aTribune of the Legio Custodes You need some much more regal looking than that! Besides I’ve been  wanting to make something nice for a long time.  Especially since the Flag-Captain won’t let me make anything nice for her.”

 “You do know the Flag-Captain doesn’t appreciate your unsubtle attempt at finding her a date.” Kal Jakar said.

 “Hmph, mark my words,  Ella will come down here asking me to weave her something nice for a date she has with some nice lad or lass, maybe even an Astartes.  Throne knows this ship is big enough to  them to find a place to have a date and -”

 “We do have a twelve year old present.” Kal said.

 ‘It’s alright. I know what she’s talking about. Ms. Thyln is a nice lady, i’m surprised she hasn’t found someone yet.” Vesta said.

 The three Astartes stared at the young maiden.

 “I’m an amnesic twelve year old girl, not an idiot.” Vesta said.

 Philone cackled.

 It was  agreed upon by Haar and the Blackshields that Vesta  should have her own room in the Astartes  quarters.  There had been an unused room right across from Haar  that she could use.   This also was so in the unlikely event they were boarded Haar and the others could quickly  defend her. Plus if she needed medical  attention, Danek would  be close at hand. The cot was sized for an Astartes, and  Vesta declined an offer for  a  human sized one.  

 Vesta  had a pillow, a brown wool blanket and a thick quilt that was a mosaic of colors.  She lay there for a while. Then  she had fallen asleep rather quickly.

 Unfortunately her dream that night were anything but pleasant

 .

“My lord the walls have been breached.  The traitors are now inside the capital,” Lord Marshall Marcus Quintus said.

 Vesta’s father  Justinian Augustus, Imperial Governor of  Byzas Longa, sighed.

 He asssesed the tactical hololiths., sighed again and looked at her and her brother.  

 “Theodosius!  Look after my children.  Get them to  the starport. The time has come for me to meet Horus’ whelps blade to blade.”

 Theodosius, Captain of the Praetorian Guard made the pre-unity salute.  He was a huge man.  A Gene-enhanced man  like the rest of her father’s bodyguard.  Some in the court whispered he had once been a Thunder Warrior.

 The five members of the Praetorian Guard were clad in Void-Hardened Carapace Armor.  They carried Volkite Chargers and had power weapons sheathed at their side.

 “Father “-her brother, Trajan began.

 “You and your sister look after each other Trajan. And do not cause mischief for old Theodosius,”   he said, his tone light as he unsheathed his Paragon Blade

 “You're going to your death father.” Vesta said

 “You have your mother’s bluntness Vesta.  Yes I am.  I will not cower in my palace while these traitors slaughter my people.  And someone must rally the remaining militia and Solar Auxilla to  buy time for the last of the civilians and yourself to escape.”

 “But father.”

 “Vesta you and your brother, are my legacy.  Children like yourself will be the future of this Imperium.  As long as you live the fires of the Imperium will  keep burning.  The heart  of mankind will not be snuffed out by Horus and his ilk.”

 “I love you both.  I cannot tell you how proud I am to have such  wonderful and intelligent children.   I know you both will accomplish great things.  “

 Vesta could tell Trajan was holding back tears.   

 Justinian smiled and hugged them.  Than Theodosius led them the underground escape route in the palace..  

 Vesta never saw her father again,

 The traveled for about 10 minutes  underground, although it felt much  longer to Vesta.  They climbed up a ladder and emerged  just outside the starport.  The small warp-capable skiff lay a few meters away.

 Vesta heard screams and the sound of Bolter  and lasfire in the distance.

 She drew her Volkite Serpenta, it's weight a comforting presence. Trajan drew his Power Sword.

 “Greetings.” a rich cultured voice said.  The voice belonged to an Astartes.  An apothecary of the Emperor’s Children.  Standing next to him was another apothecary  clad in the blood  stained white and blue colors of the World Eaters.  Behind them was five Palatine Blades of the Emperor’s Children and ten  World Eaters Tactical Marines.

 The Praetorian Guard leveled their Volkite  Chargers.   Trajan didn't stand in front of Vesta, which was good. She didn’t want her overprotective  brother blocking her line of fire.

 “ Allow to me introduce  myself.  I am Titus Phovian. You must be Justinian Augustus’ children.  You should be proud. He slew three of my Palatine Blades  and five World Eaters  before  Centurion Daken removed his head.”  the Apothecary said in an oddly polite tone.

 The World Eaters  apothecary signaled to his men .

 The ten World Eaters  charged, Chainaxes raised high.

 Theodosius  and the Praetorian Guard  cut half of them town  with their Volkite Chargers  before they got into melee range.   Theodosius  killed one with his Power Axe before they hacked him into pieces. Two members of the  Guard took another with  them into death’s embrace .   That left three to  charge  the  two youths.

 Vesta dropped one with a clean headshot.   The second one took two shots to the face before his twisted soul left his body.  

 The third Eater of Worlds met his end at Trajan’s Power Sword. Trajan had rammed his sword deep into  his throat.

 He withdrew it and shook the thick transhuman blood off the sizzling power field.

 “That was unexpected. “  The World Eaters Apothecary said gruffly.

 One of the Palatine  Blades  stepped forward and Vesta shot him in the chest.  He fell to ground with a thud.

 “Who’s next!” Vesta shouted.  She sounded  a lot braver than she felt.

 The World Eater  Apothecary charged  them. He was a blur as he raised his Chainaxe.  Trajan  lunged forward, his Power Sword held in both hands.

 The Apothecary’s blow sent Trajan’s Power Sword skidding out of his hands.  He struck  Trajan  with the back of his chainaxe. The blow sent him flying into the  ground .   He did not rise again.

 Vesta leveled the Volkite Serpenta at the apothecary, before a hand wrapped around the back of her throat and lifted her up.  The Volkite Serpenta  slipped out of her hands.

 She grunted in pain as she felt a needle dig into her neck.  She heard the  device on Titus’ gauntlet chime .

 “ Ruri my friend, today must be our lucky day.”

 “What are you talking about?” Vesta said.

 “You. Don’t worry my dear,   Ruri and I going to take good care of you. “

 Before Vesta could question him further, Titus extended his Narthecium. She felt something sting her neck.  Then everything went black.

 Vesta woke up screaming.  It all had come back to her.  The death of her world Her time in that monster Titus’ hands.  Watching her brother be turned into a mindless killing machine.   The needles and tubes as Titus poked and prodded at her. His cruel whispers and how his hand would stroke her hair  .

 She sobbed.  Part of her wanted to hold her tears back, but she couldn't. She cried and cried and cried.

 When she ran out of tears to shed she rose and wrapped the brown wool blanket around herself and stood up.  She walked out of her room and found herself standing outside Haar’s door. Without  thinking, she knocked on the door.

 Haar answered. Unlike Vesta, who wore a blue nightgown and had wrapped herself in her blanket, Haar was naked but for a loincloth.

 Vesta couldn't  help but stare.

 Haar’s physique was amazing, even by Astartes standards.  Regular combat,  rounds in the fighting pits and long  gymnasia sessions  during interstellar voyages had has left him with a body any mortal  and more than some Astartes would kill for.

 Vesta blushed. Haar just stared.

 “ Can I sleep  with you tonight?  I… I don't want to be alone.“ She asked.

 “Danek said this might happen. I'm assuming you had a nightmare?” Haar asked.

 Vesta nodded.

 “Did you memories return?“ he asked.

 “Yes.” Vesta said. She looked so frail. The blanket she wrapped herself in dwarfed her.

 “Do you want me to wake Danek?  am sure he has sleeping medication.” Haar asked.

 “No! No sedatives. I don’t need them. “  Vesta said with a fierceness that surprised him.

 Haar felt something like pity but he squashed the feeling.  To pity this girl after all she endured would be disrespectful.

 Without a word he let Vesta in his quarters.

 Haar’s quarters were plain. There was a cot, foot locker, and rack for Haar’s wargear.  The World Eaters  were never big on ornamentation and any trappings from Haar’s former legion had been removed.  The large desk and chair that had been sized for an Astartes had not been  used for some time.

 Haar made room for Vesta on his cot. She snuggled close to him and in seconds she was asleep.

 The voyage to Terra was three weeks.  Vesta spent much of her time helping crew members with various tasks aboard the  ship.   Her free time was filled with medical check ups at Daken’s hands, being fitted for various clothes with Philone and reading.  The Tyrannis had a rather nice library and Vesta enjoyed the solitude it offered.  Kal Jakar and Boian often joined her. Kal asked if she wanted to go to the Mass he held aboard the ship, Vesta went a few times out of politeness, but the Lectitio Divinitatus  didn't really appeal to her. (She did remember her father turning a blind eye to it on Byzas Longa.)  

 Boian often made jokes. Sometimes  really dirty ones that made her laugh so hard she cried.  

 And then there was the fighting pits.

 While the Blackshields utterly rejected their previous legions and traditions, including the spoken and written languages they once used, old habits died hard.  Many of the Fangs of the Emperor. Were former World Eaters, and sparring was a good way to  vent anger and grief.  In addition it,  settled conflicts and rivalry and was good for morale.   The mortal crew loved to bet on the fights.  

 The arena was a section of the vehicle storage bay that had been unused for quite sometime.  Empty ammo crates  formed a ring.   Chairs and other empty crates acted as seating for the spectators. . A few jars of olive oil that had been borrowed from the kitchen had been laid out for those who wished to anoint themselves before a match.

 Kal Jakar was refereeing.  Karanthus stood beside him  ready to  intervene if a match became to the death rather than to third blood.

 Vesta  liked watching the matches.  It was interesting seeing an astartes fight. The spectacle, the brotherhood. The jokes and curses, all were entertianing and so interesting. .

 Vesta’s seat, nicknamed the “Kathisma” or royal box, by the Blackshields was two ammo crates stacked atop each other with a blanket laid atop it.  It gave her an excellent view of the matches.

 Right now it was Boian and a Blackshield named Gorrivan, were sparring. Gorrivan held a chainsword in one hand, a chainaxe in the other. Boian held a Power axe.  Both warriors wore loincloths and their.  Gorrivan  had already taken two blows.  Boian was untouched.

 Gorrivan made an overhead swipe with his chainaxe  while simultaneously stabbing  with his chainsword.  Boain sidestepped him and raked his power axe across his back.

 “Third blood.”  Kal Jakar said.

 Gorrivan growled  but the two shook hands.

 “Next time Boian.” He growled.

 “Of course.” Boian said with a smile.

 “Who’s next?” Boian called.

 As Vesta observed the next  match. As she saw these transhumans, these living weapons cheer laugh, and curse.  She wondered, what had made them a family?   These men were all from different legion’s, different cultures.  Was it because they  were outcasts? Was it because they had stayed loyal and true when others went astray? Was it all of it or none of it?  

 Vesta could have asked, but she was content to wait.  Something told her that she would get wildly different answers. It would be better to observe and interact with these men, these pariahs and she’d find the answer herself..  After all, with her world and family dead, she was like them now, an orphan of war and betrayal.

 Terra.

 Humanity’s cradle.  Humanity’s mother.   Without her the human race would not exist. Without her, the Legiones Astartes would not exist.     

 Terra was the most important world in the Imperium of Man.  No other world rivaled it in its splendor or glory.

 Being the impending target of Horus’ invasion Terra was now a fortress world.   The vast fleet of the VII legion, the Imperial Fists, circled it like wolves.  Thousands of vessels  of various classes, from  corvettes and frigates to the Five Gloriana class battleships that surrounded the Phalanx, the massive vessel that the Imperial Fists called home.  A circle of orbital defense stations and star forts ringed the planet.

 A single Storm Eagle gunship descended.  It bore no markings apart from the scars of war and the old bloodstains on its hull.  It was black as night itself.

 “Our clearance code has been accepted.” Fabius said.

 Haar surveyed the people he brought with  him.   

 Blackshields didn't have formal Command Squads and these were a rather rough honor guard. They sure as Hell wouldn't pass a parade ground inspection.

 Harr had has brought Danek, Boian and Kal Jakar.  Vesta had come as well. She looked more like the noble she was rather than the scared waif they had awoken from a stasis coffin.

 Vesta wore a white Stola with Grecian style sandals. In addition, she wore a purple Palla with a freshly polished Aquila clasp. Haar noted it was an older one that clutched  lightning bolts in its talons. Her hair was unbound  and her brown hair fell nearly to her waist. She wore no jewelry  and had no makeup, but she was beautiful. Perhaps more beautiful the so called “nobles” of the Imperial Court.

 “Nervous?” Boian asked.

 If Vesta was nervous she hid it well.  She didn’t fiddle with her clasp or fidget. She looked straight ahead.

 “A little. I mean this is Terra. And we're going to the Imperial Palace ”  Vesta said.

 “Trust me it get’s boring after a few visits.” Boian said.

 Kal Jakar looked like he was going to launch into his  “This is Holy Terra, the birthplace of our species” rant, but he remained silent .

 Haar looked outside the viewport and scowled.

 “Aella is late.” Haar said.

 “She is a little girl.” Kal Jakar said.

 “The ligo aetes are never late.” Haar sat.

 “There’s always a first time for everything Endryd.” Boian said.

 “Little eagles?” Vesta asked.

 “Custodes in training. They’re mostly young children, but there are a few around your age or older.” Haar supplied.

 “I’m surprised you know Grecian.” Danek said with a cough.

 “Byzas Longa, my homeworld spoke a dialect of Grecian before the coming of the Emperor, It was still used in court along with High Gothic.  My father would switch to it in the middle of a conversation to  help me and my brother learn it.”  Vesta said in perfect Grecian.

 “Well i’ll be damned.” Boian said with a smile.  Boian  smiled a lot. It gave him an opportunity to show off his Iron teeth.

 “Your soul already is.” Kal Jakarsaid in a voice as dry as the desert he was born in.

 The two laughed as the ramp opened and they stepped out of the Storm Eagle.  

 They paused when they came face to face with a Legio Custodes.  He stood between them and the entrance to the Inner Palace.  The Custodian’s body language indicated great displeasure, though in Haar’s opinion, most Custodian’s body language indicated great displeasure.

 “Halt.” The Custodian said.

 Haar paused.  He recognized that voice.  

 Prefect Diocletian.

 “We are agents of the Imperium and we come being news for Lady Arlette.” Haar said.

 “Your kind are not welcome here Blackshield. Neither is the girl you bring.” Diocletian said.

 “Why do you deny us passage?  We are both warriors of the God-Emperor and we bear the blessing of your Tribune.” Kal Jakar said.

 “Silence Word Bearer.   The Emperor has forbidden the referral to him as a God.  Speak that word again and I will remove your head from your body.” Diocletian  said.

 In hindsight. Kal Jakar shouldn't have mentioned the God-Emperor, but Diocletian would have stopped them and made the threat. anyway.  The Prefect was quite frankly, a dick. Haar knew he did not trust them, and he had probably delayed Aella with some meaningless task like retrieving headlight fluid for the Grav-Rhinos. Haar honestly no idea why Diocletian  had delayed them or why he disliked them.  You think the Emperor’s own Equerry vouching for them would give them some slack. Haar was pretty sure Malcador’s band of misfits didn't have to deal with this.  

 Haar decided he had enough.  As much as he wanted to rip out the Custodians spine, he’d settle this with words.

 “Praetor.”  Haar said with all the cold rage and authority he could muster.

 “I’m sorry?” Diocletian said.

 “My rank is Praetor, Prefect..  You may also address me as Reaver Lord if you prefer. We report directly to Lady Arlette and the Emperor himself. While you are well within your authority to stops us. I believe your reasons for stopping us are personal and not for security reasons. My brothers and I have stayed loyal while  our legions turned traitor. We are willing to sacrifice  our lives for this Imperium. Not for honor or glory, but for duty and vengeance.  This girl you so casually dismissed,has suffered more than any girl her age should have. She has lost her family and her world. The IIIrd legion plans to do unspeakable thing to her. Our own brothers and our primarch’s betrayed us, soaked their blades in our blood. And you dare question our loyalty! You dare to question our honor and commitment to this Imperium! To our Emperor!”

 Diocletion  was about to reply, but Haar cut him off.

 “Now I want you to stand there Prefect Diocletion, in that golden armor of yours and extend some fracking courtesy to myself, my brothers and this girl.” Haar said.

 Haar had a feeling he wanted to draw his Misericordia and strike him down.  

 Than the sound of scampering feet was heard.

 “I'm so sorry!” an eight year old voice said.

 A blur of red and gold dashed pass Diocletian.  

 “It is alright Lady Aella.” Kal Jakar said. The Chaplain made the sign of the Aquila.

 Aella was a young girl, a few weeks shy of her ninth birthday. She wore the red with gold trim robes of the Legio Custodes  Her hair was a black and silky,and she wore it in a braid with a silver and jade hairpin.

 “Lady Arlette sends her compliments Praetor Haar. I’m here to take you to the Tranquil Courts.” Aella said in an imitation of a rather regal and important sounding tone.

 Aella looked at Vesta.

 “Hi! I’m Aella! What's your name?”  Aella said this with all the enthusiasm  an eight year old girl possessed.

 “Vesta.” Vesta replied.

 “You're very pretty. I like your Palla.” Aella said.

 She turned to lead them to inside.

 “Aella,could you wait a moment.  Prefect  Diocletian needs to tell me something.” Haar said.

 “Sure!” Aella  said cheerfully.

 Haar looked at Diocletian.

 Haar could tell Diocletian was gritting her teeth beneath his helm.

 “I apologize for my rudeness Praetor.”

 “Not  just me.” Haar said. He gestured to Kal Jakar.

 “I apologize for my unkind  words, Chaplain. I hope I have not offended you.”

 “Think nothing of it. The Emperor's blessing be upon you Prefrect.” Kal Jakar said. He made the sign of the Aquila. For politeness sake, Diocletian returned it.

 Diocletian turned to Vesta.

 “You don’t have to apologize to me, My Lord. It's a honor to be here.” Vesta said.

 “You're too kind for your own good, girl.” Danek said with a laugh.

 “We’re ready to proceed Aella.” Haar said.

 Aella smiled, waved goodbye to Diocletian  and led them into the Imperial Palace.

 The Tranquil Courts was perhaps the only part of the Imperial Palace not fortified. An eye of peace and beauty in a storm of iron and stone.

 Tribune Arlette Augusta Amon Rakaposhi Gorro was waiting for them in a spacious patio.

 Arlette was a rather striking woman with  brown skin and black hair that stopped at her shoulders. She wore red robes with fur and gold trim. She held an old graphite pencil in her hand.

 The square table she sat at was carpeted with paperwork.

 The table style was one he did not recognize.  Although, Haar did not an Emperor’s Chilrdren or Thousand Sons, skill in recognizing furniture.   It was strangely low, and her seat was directly on the ground

 She looked up from the parchment she was scribbling on. Writing implements of various types lay in easy reach. Everything from pencils and various types of pens to monoquills.

 Arlette smiled at Aella  as she bowed.

 “Hello Aella, did Diocletian delay you?”

 “Yes my lady, Prefect Diocletian was grumpier  than usual.”  Aella said with a pout that was more adorable than annoyed.

 “It’s probably because we're  here,we’re not exactly good little boys compared to Dorn’s little builders.” Boian said.

 Aella giggled and Arlette smiled.

 Haar gestured to Vesta.

 “Lady Arlette, this is Vesta Augustus, the heir to the Imperial governorship of Byzas Longa.”

 “She’s a friend of ours.” Boian said.

It’s an honor, my lady.” Vesta said with a bow.

 “The honor is mine, the Emperor and I enjoyed our time on Byzas Longa.” Arlette said.

 Haar watched the two women make eye contact.

 This was not merely the meeting of two women, this was the meeting of two queens.

One who was young and recently crowned, ready to take her throne and do her duty.  The other, older and more comfortable in her role. One who had done all her king and subjects asked for and more.    

 “Aella could you bring my guests and I some tea?” Arlette asked.

 “Yes ma'am. What kind of tea do you want?” She asked.

“My usual.” Arlette said.

“Black.” Haar said.

 “Lemon, one cream, milk and two sugars.” Danek said

“Black with three sugars.” Boian said.

“Green tea.”  Kal Jakar  said.

“Black, one sugar.” Vesta said.

Aella scampered off.

 Arlette gestured for them to sit.

Haar sat directly across from Arlette.  Kal Jakar sat to his right, Boian on his left. Vesta sat next to Boian, while Danek sat next to Kal Jakar.

Aella returned with a platter laden with  mugs of tea.

 Haar caught the whiff of cinnamon as Aella distribute the tea.

Haar sipped his tea.  After months of recycled water, the tea was a rare treat. He could tell his brothers and Vesta enjoyed the tea immensely.

The woman who saved his life enjoyed her tea immensely as well.

 Some compared Arlette  to the Roman goddesses Bellona, or the Grecian goddess Pallas Athena, but no such comparison could be made in person.

 She was beautiful in her own unique way.  She radiated an overwhelming power and grace that rivaled, even surpassed, a Primarch.   No one could stand before her without to urge to kneel and prostrate themselves. No one could draw a blade or Bolter to harm her without dying.  Either at her hands, or the Emperor’s himself.

 She was, in many many ways, the ideal woman.

 Haar knew that if it wasn't for Arlette’s backing of the Fangs of the Emperor, they wouldn't have been able  to inflict  so much damage on the traitors. The Tyrannis wouldn't have been able to be refitted and resupplied. The Sigillite would not have shared his Intel. The Fangs now had an opportunity to die a glorious  death that would be remembered by loyal and traitor alike.

 “I trust your mission was successful?”  Arlette said.

 “The Word Eater’s 126th Company has been informally disbanded and a  plot that could tip the balance in the traitor’s favor has been discovered. “

 “And what does this plot entail exactly?” Arlette asked with a sip of her tea.

 “Unsanctioned Legions Astartes implantation and indoctrination methods, tampering  with blessed gene-seed and the utter damnation of the souls.” Kal Jakar  said.

 “What Chaplain Jakar means is that the  Emperor’s Children have created enhanced  hybrid gene-seed designed to maximize the positive traits of both World  Eaters and the Emperor’s Children with a high compatibility rate and a minimum  chance of implant rejection.  They are also enhanced via genetic data and sample recovered from Blackshield Astartes referred to as Chymarie.  Lady Vesta here was to be first test subject.  We recovered one of the apothecaries responsible  and we’d like to transfer him to the Silent Sisterhood. for interrogation.”

 “We’d also like to arrange for protection  and sanctuary for Vesta.  We also need some more supplies and a couple of fresh crewmen. “  Haar said.

 “ The first request I can grant.  The second I must deny. The Ten-Thousand must remain at the palace. Like the Sigillite and the Knights-Errant, we are fighting our own Silent War and the casualties have not been light.  I cannot spare the Custodes. The Emperor's safety cannot be jeopardized   While there are those in the Imperial Court who could provide sanctuary, Alpharius and his sons are here on Terra, until Rogal deals with them, her safety cannot be guaranteed.  A moving target is harder to hit, so Vesta will stay with you.  As for supplies, the Hall of Weapons is open to you.  Perhaps while you restock, you could find some weapons for Vesta here as well.  In addition, if your looking for crewmen, many refugees have gathered in the Petitioner’s City, seeking to join the Imperial Army and Navy. I’m sure you will find willing recruits.” Arlette  said.

“Thank you My Lady,”   Haar said

“You’re welcome Endryd.” she said with a smile.

 Haar rose and brought his fist to his chest in the pre-unity  salute.

 Arlette returned it.

 The Hall of Weapons was like a toy store for an Astartes.  While the Fangs could not access the sections reserved for the Custodes and the Silent Sisterhood, there was still plenty for them  and their young companion.

Weapons were kept on racks or held in shining stasis-fields. Crates of ammunition were stacked under the racks.

“I could spend decades in this place.” Boian said with a childish grin.  He had taken a Phobos-pattern Bolter and about nine clips from one of the racks.

“I don’t doubt that.’ Kal Jahkar said.

Haar hadn’t touched anything, but he had watched Vesta as she browsed the racks.

Vesta had immediately grabbed a Volkite Serpenta, but she had  stopped at a collection of swords.  She hefted a chainsword and placed it back.  She ignored the large two-handed weapons.  She paused at the knives and grabbed a Power Knife sized for a mortal and a Chainknife.   She also grabbed a Digi-melta and slid it on her left ring finger.

She was smiling the whole time she had done this.  

This was the first time any of them had seen  Vesta smile.    

She looked around some more and went to a small collection of blades and pistols in stasis fields.

She paused in front of a gladius in  a stasis field.

 “Blade.. Of the Hearth?” Vesta said reading the High Gothic inscription on  the blade.

“Looks like an Albian Power Gladius,  Shadrak Meduson has one of those. Some officers in the Fourteenth used to carry those.” Boian said.

“A few in the Seventeenth did as well.” Kal Jakar said.

 Vesta  pressed the key to  disengage the stasis field and gently grasped the blade.

It came free from it’s stand with a soft shunk noise.

Vesta gave it a few swings and made a stabbing motion with the blade.  

It was in that moment that Harr saw Vesta in a different light.

He now longer saw her as an amnesiac waif or a young noblewoman.

Now she was a warrior-queen.

Now she was ready to take her vengeance on the traitors who stolen everything from her.

And Haar and his Blackshields would gladly fight by her side.

#endryd haar #warhammer 40k #horus heresy #Vesta is going to kill some Emperor's Children real soon.

[spicyscholar]

Combined Aesthetics: Chandler Beauregard and Violet Hoy

This is sort of starts from the beginning of their friendship to the start of the OT3...Forgive me, PLEASE FORGIVE ME. But like, they are such a beautiful relationship, ok? @tegansexual‘s Chandler and Violet are basically perfection. (then again, any friendship with Violet is basically perfection? So, I guesss...Chandler and her are definitely no exception!) Also, I’m horrible at describing the two of them, but there should be some laughs there. These are kind of just mini-stories, but I hope you all like them.

-The first day they meet, and the first week really, is just CHAOS. He’s overly friendly and she’s overly snarky and cold. She’s serious, and he’s being silly and sweet. (also see the thread in which @ask-sechandler has for his intro and how Violet reacts to him and back)

-But Chandler is stubborn af and continues to try and become her friend no matter how much pain her sarcasm causes him.

-It’s a lot of pain, but at some point, he realizes that him and Violet are actual friends, that their starting relationship has changed. She’s still teasing him and being mean, but there’s that warm/affectionate tone in her voice that you get from a good friend when they are messing with you and you just know. 

-Of course, he still can’t get her to say that they’re friends. Everytime someone mentions them being friends, they get a brutal: “we’re not friends” that makes everyone wince at the sudden blunt/honest/cruel answer. And he can’t get a compliment out of her when he tries to. “did my ballet routine look good?” “you messed up on your second pirouette” “i did not!” “also, the piece you’ve chosen doesn’t match what you’re choreography is, it’s too fast paced” The shit she gives him when he messes up...

-Their relationship continues like that for a while, then Chandler just gets used to it. He becomes less affected by her taunts, she becomes more comfortable around him and opening to just joking around with him and less denial of his offers of hanging out.

-When this happens, they hang out outside of lunch and class. He comes over to her dorm to hang out with her and discovers...her room is an absolute mess. He wants to scream really...for someone so responsible and focused her desk looks like a hurricane blew through it. “There’s a coffee there! You don’t even drink coffee! Wait a second, whose glasses are those?” “hmmm....Ella’s? And no Chandler, you aren’t allowed to touch my desk.” “-_- let me clean” “no”

-He also finds out that she never sleeps? Or eats properly? “i don’t eat breakfast” Chandler freaks out. What happened to determined, aloof Violet? She was sensible? Why is this girl getting no sleep or food? Eat some damn breakfast. Chandler tries to get her to eat and sleep, but it’s not usually successful...Violet doesn’t like being bossed around like that.

-When Violet find out that he likes Tegan, mischievous Violet finally comes out. She gets this smirk on her face, and you can bet your entire life savings that she’s going to have some fun and matchmake them/tease the fuck out of him. Chandler is impressed that Violet’s personality has changed again, and also scared by her power if he wasn’t before.

-He tries so hard for her to actually go outside. Finally, he thinks that maybe he should ask her like a normal person to do something fun with him that’s in her comfort zone. He knows from Henry that she does like sweets, so he asks her if she wants to go some ice cream or something. Surprisingly, she says yes first thing. Really she was waiting for him to directly state that he wanted to do something not nag her or hint at it.

-Whenever they go out for ice cream, they share a banana split. Violet ends up stealing all of his whipped cream. The first time this happens, he is not prepared. Afterwords, he brings a canister of whipped cream with him when they go out, just to spite her, and add more.

-Speaking of stealing, she’s always stealing his clothes. It doesn’t matter if the shoes are the wrong size, or the jacket is just slightly too big, it’s hers now. Also takes all his nice pens or school supplies because she’s always losing hers. Chandler freaks out when he can’t find all of his stuff...then he sees one of his favorite glitter pens hanging out of the pocket of one of his old denim jackets. She mostly gets away with it though, mostly because she does look great in them, and forgets to tell her off. 

-She refuses to go do anything active Chandler proposes, mostly with half-assed excuses and snark, until Chandler says “fine! do you have any ideas?” and she goes “biking” Chandler this time, tries to come up with a half-assed excuse, because he’s a horrible bike rider. “i mean...i’d like too...but um...I don’t have a bike.” However, Violet can see through all his bullshit, all the time. “I see. Luckily for you, Ella has a bike you can use.”

-Chandler:

-He can’t say no anymore. But, when he falls off Ella’s bike and bruises his knee, he’s so embarrassed that he considers running all the way to the school and hiding. 

-But? Violet...doesn’t? Tease him?!?!?!? WTF?!?!?! She starts laughing, but it’s not mean, she’s giggling and smiling like a pure angel as she helps him up. And she’s trying hard to stop the whole time and act like her usual self but...”pffffttt....stupid....if you can’t ride a bike properly, you should have told me...” Chandler is officially killed, first by the fact that he’s laughing and embarrassed, and two that...

-Oh shit. She’s cute. His laughter dies and so does Violet, the moment she thinks that he’s no longer having fun. She rethinks her feelings toward Chandler, and bites her lip, suddenly uncomfortable. Chandler is having a panic attack at his realization that he likes both Tegan and Violet.

-But Violet is back to her usual self, cold and sarcastic. She hops on the bike and tells Chandler off for being careless. Chandler takes it easily, having had expected that. He doesn’t notice her clenching her fists or grinding her teeth as she waits for him before leaving. Because she was starting to like him, to trust him...but now she’s doubting that she should.

-But that angst is for later, for...idk man it’s for later. Sofi will probably convince me to give her children a happy ending. For now, have some more fluff.

-If Chandler curses, Violet tells him off...then provides to curse herself.

-Violet does like playing Violin for Chandler to dance too, although she won’t admit it. She comes to all his shows, that’s for damn sure. He reads all her writing and loves it. #Violetissupportiveanddeservessomefuckingsupportaswell

-She doesn’t like getting hugs from him at first, but gradually gets used to it. Doesn’t like sharing the blanket when they watch movies together either. Chandler has some work to do. 

-Violet doodles all over his homework or books. If he falls asleep or takes a nap, she’ll doodle on him too. Not mustaches or things on his face. Legit pretty art covering his arms and wrists. Swirls, flowers, just...cute little things. If you get her to pull up her sleeves, you can find matching designs on her arms.

damn this is long who tf read all this shit like wow good job guys Hope you guys enjoyed! Sorry there’s so much of this lmao. Love you all!!!

#this is some good shit #but also #i'm so sorry for this #it's a ship #are they brotp or otp #who knows #not me and i wrote them #part of the ot3 #but they are so cute #it's gorgeous #sweet elite ocs #combined aesthetic #kill me now this took so long #how do you not hate me #send me asks #i want to write more of this #ANyWAYS #lmao i'm a mess