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nervouscupcakeinspace · 3 years

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BTS FIC RECS (PART 2)

Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope

Don't Get Charmed by shikiso

When an injured omega is found on their territory, Jungkook's instincts scream danger. He is the pack's omega, they don't need another one. Jungkook is doing a good enough job by himself, protecting the den and soothing the tension off everybody's shoulders.

Why is the pack so adamant on keeping that useless omega in ?

They have Jungkook, they don't need Hoseok.

Why can't they even see his little game ? Hoseok definitely knows how to play the scared and helpless omega. But, if he manages to trick everybody, he can't trick Jungkook. He is immune to his sweet scent and sweeter eyes.

He won't fall into his trap.

Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin

Omega Drip by sugamongoose

Park Jimin is the kind of alpha who makes you coffee and asks about your day before reducing his partner to a crying, writhing mess on his organic cotton sheets. He doesn't even seem to care one bit that Jungkook is a broken omega who doesn't get wet when he's supposed to.

“Are you busy right now, alpha?” Jungkook asks, holding his breath in anticipation. He can already visualise getting on his knees for the smaller man, can imagine those soft-looking hands petting his hair in approval when he shows just how good his mouth is.

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Namjoon | RM

Every Kind of Way by Oh_Hey_Tae

And then he realizes, quite belatedly, that he’s not supposed to be shaking the hand of the barista. Because that’s weird. And uncalled for. And really, really weird.

So Jungkook draws back his arm, grips the straps of his backpack, and promptly flees the building without a word spoken. Which is fine. Sometimes you have to get out of awkward social situations and blacklist particular cafés and adjust your route to school to avoid said café and the barista with the heart shaped face and his sweet pea scented hands. It happens.

“Jungkook-ah, meet Kim Namjoon.”

And sometimes during your bi-weekly dinner one of your good friends introduces you to said barista with the terribly soft hands who also happens to be getting his masters in social work to help underprivileged youth in inner city neighborhoods. Which is fine. This is fine. Jungkook is doing just fine.

(Or: Jungkook adores everything about Namjoon except that the man can't catch a clue.)

Here Is What I Know by Oh_Hey_Tae

There are flowers growing on Namjoon’s arm. They aren’t real flowers, of course. That would be absurd. Impossible. Ridiculous. But Namjoon spends most of his lecture on Kant watching the garden of ink bloom on his skin, beginning at his pinkie and spreading across his wrist, trickling down to his elbow, curling up and around his bicep and out of sight under the sleeve of his shirt. Irises and peonies and roses and sunflowers. The girl who’s sitting beside him is staring, and when caught, gives Namjoon a bright-eyed grin before glancing back to the board. Namjoon spots a faded smiley face inked into the skin of her thumb, what looks to be a grocery list scrawled over the back of her hand. Notes or reminders from her soulmate maybe. Soulmates. Huh. It looks like Namjoon has one of those now.

try to resist, i still want it all by exarite

At first, Namjoon doesn’t think much of him.

He looks familiar, but he’s too far away for Namjoon to really see or scent out his dynamic. He’s cute, but Namjoon's not new to cute boys either. He's far too used to handsome, and pretty, and everything in between in the industry.

But then he stands up. Namjoon's eyes catch on the swell of his belly, and every nerve in his body lights up, his mind going blank, and—

Oh, he breathes. He's pregnant.

Namjoon fucks a pregnant Jungkook.

just let me adore you by elle_O_moonchild *

Rockstar omega Jungkook has never let an alpha tie him down. He was independent, and happy, and had no need for a domineering knothead to mess up his career and lifestyle.

But powerful and wealthy alpha Namjoon only wants to spoil the pretty omega rotten.

A smitten alpha Namjoon gets a weary omega Jungkook to go on a date with him and shows him just how good they can be together…

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Seokjin | Jin

more and more and more by moonsuns

"If you haven’t had sex by the time you’re twenty, then I’ll have sex with you. That way you’ll have a guaranteed end date for your virginity.”

“Do you promise, hyung?”

"I promise."

The problem was, Seokjin never expected to be called on it.

you shouldn't give it to me (good like that) by jamaisvore

opposites in the eyes of the media, but a perfect match in each other's arms.

or: supermodel!jk x rockstar!jin

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM

Pull Me Under by Oh_Hey_Tae

It’s been two weeks. Hoseok has managed to survive two weeks of Kim Namjoon’s progressively darkening thighs and his cheek craters and his swooshy hair and that stupid laugh he does that makes him sound like a bleating sheep.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder. Stares. Slowly draws his gaze back to Hoseok. “Are we discussing the same man who tried to brush his teeth with sunscreen yesterday?”

“Ew, he did that?”

“Your voice says that’s disgusting but your face says you’re enamored.”

Hoseok presses his palms against his eyes until he sees colored spots. “Make it stop, hyung.”

(Or: Hoseok works at a summer resort and Namjoon is the newest lifeguard. Chaos ensues.)

fall underneath by crycoby

“Is this secretly about your huge crush on Namjoon?” Jimin asks, his fingers digging into the back of Hoseok’s neck in a way that is frankly criminal. “You know that if you like him, you’re going to have to be more direct. He doesn’t like to assume things about people and… He overthinks a lot,” he finally settles on diplomatically.

Hoseok groans, half because of the pressure and half because the idea of talking about this, about any of this, about any of the gnarled mess that is the clutch of Hoseok’s emotions in the knot of his chest, gives him hives.

hoseok could talk about his big messy feelings about namjoon, or he could talk around them instead and just hope for the best. yeah. that sounds good.

Methods of Mutual Stress Relief by Only_A_Fangirl

Hoseok cringes, “How weird would it be if I actually asked to jerk off in here with you?”

“Very,” Namjoon answers instantly.

Hoseok nods, “You can choose the porn.”

Namjoon blinks, “Are you for real?”

lyre lyre lyre by oliviacirce

Namjoo regrets every life choice that has led her here, to the hard wooden floor of this dance studio, where she's lying on her back like a beached whale.

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Taehyung | V

the long and winding road by moonsuns

Hoseok is (basically) forced to go on vacation and leave his stressful idol life behind, at least for a little while. He wasn't expecting to find Taehyung, that's for sure. (He's glad he did, though.)

Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Seokjin | Jin

Procurement by FlyYouFools1 (WIP) *

Seokjin and Namjoon have waited decades for a little of their own. Taehyung just wants to pay for his little brother's education.

Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Taehyung | V

Dandelion Love (part of the (Not) Destined series) by almostsophie1

Taehyung is twenty-one when the word on his wrist turns ashen. The kind of love that soulmates share is forever out of reach.

(But enter one Kim Namjoon, who doesn't think the same.)

Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga

Bleeding Love by beebalm

Yoongi was already dressed and halfway to the door, nothing but a dry chuckle and a See you around when Namjoon asked for his number.

It's not that Namjoon is hurt Yoongi only ever wanted him for a one night stand. And he doesn't have a crush. He just wishes they didn't have to keep seeing each other all the time.

Kim Namjoon | RM/Park Jimin

but i want it anyway by ameliabedelias *

Park Jimin’s roommate goes to study abroad for a semester. Kim Namjoon takes over the lease.

only lingering around you by moonsuns

“I don't. I mean...this is going to sound awkward, but I’m...not really looking for a relationship right now.”

Namjoon considers, for a moment, elaborating and telling Jimin about everything with Hoseok, but there wouldn't be any point in that. And also, Namjoon is pretty sure that Jimin doesn't care about any of that anyway.

And he's right. At this, Jimin outright laughs. It isn’t a mean laugh, but Namjoon is pierced by the sound anyway. “Who said anything about a relationship, or even feelings? It’s just sex.”

Or, Namjoon and Jimin are friends with benefits.

Kim Seokjin | Jin/Min Yoongi | Suga

운명 (Fate) (part of the (Not) Destined series) by almostsophie1

Yoongi is part of that three percent population left without a soulmate word. It doesn't matter if he falls in love, because love isn't meant for people like him.

(Then he meets Seokjin.)

candy on my lips (part of the just desserts series) by moonbabie

Anonymous advice columnist and baby bi Kim Sujin meets queer club president Min Yoonji, and does the following: writes some cheesy advice columns, cuts her hair, and figures out her shit. (aka a queer romcom meets emotional constipation, self-discovery, and clueless wlw)

Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin

pull me closer in the backseat of your rover by moonsuns

Jimin had just wanted to get off. He didn't think he'd end up with a boyfriend at the end of it all.

Or, another friends with benefits AU.

Nip & Bloom by sugamongoose (WIP) *

The year is 2021, and yet traditional and oppressive views of alpha/omega relations run rampant in the Korean society. Unmated Park Jimin is placed in a government programme which pairs delinquent omegas with support mates to make them more comfortable in their submission. Jimin’s alpha for six months turns out to be Min Yoongi, a tiny music producer who wears fuzzy sweaters, and who won’t stop talking about his kitten Holly.

“You look like an omega,” Jimin blurts out. The strange alpha flashes him a smile that reveals the pink of his gums. “Is that something you prefer? I saw your file, and it said you identify as queer.” “Oh, you looked at my file just to see if I like to fuck other omegas? Knot swelling yet?”

POLY RELATIONSHIPS

OT7 - Relationship

indiscentsible by cloudyworld *

Jungkook had been a little disappointed when, after all the build-up and speculation, he'd presented as a beta. Betas are great! They play an important role in society: level-headed, big-picture thinkers, the solid foundation that holds everyone together. But that pull of instinct that comes with being an alpha or omega, the feeling of belonging... He was crushed at the thought he might never get to have that.

In a pack with three alphas and three omegas already, presenting beta was a gift; Jungkook learns to see that too.

Precious Mettle by glitterandgilt (WIP) *

Jin loved his nest. He'd built it very carefully from the ground up. Spent centuries on selecting the individuals he wanted to spend the rest of his immortal life with. He was proud of his nest and protected it with a possessive love that rivaled a dragon's guard on their trove.

Jin didn't get the chance to go through that evaluation process with his newest treasure. But he would never let it go.

When Jin's blood is stolen and used to sire a new fledgling, Jin has two choices: to ignore the strands of magic binding him to his new childe, or to lay claim to another jewel for his collection. He chooses the latter and drags his entire nest into a situation none of them were anticipating.

Kim's Seven by Gobi17 (WIP) *

Jungkook, 17 year old YouTuber, is in awe of the 6 hot boys who have adopted him online.

Bangtan are a dangerous group of vigilantes who seize the opportunity to kidnap the stepson of their latest target.

Found Kin by Adaptive_Artist (WIP)

Jungkook is starving. Food doesn't make anything better, and his teeth ache like someone is hammering on them. He thought he was cursed. Turns out he's a hatchling kin, and is now the precious baby of the renowned Kim nest. He's also growing little fangs.

Huh.

love bites (series) by feraljk (WIP)

Summary from the first fic:

newly-turned vampire jungkook still has a lot to learn, but his hyungs are there to help him. taehyung enlists yoongi and jin to teach the fledgling how to teethe and helps him discover how much of a bonding activity teething can be.

or: trans koo and tae teeth on their hyungs and also come

Isn't it lovely? (all alone) by hopefully2020

At age eighteen, all citizens are given a concentration that will determine their fields of study. A small empty square on their wrist will gain a color corresponding to their skill set. Everyone’s fear is that their square color is black, meaning they are destined for a life of crime. When Jungkook turns eighteen, he waits anxiously for his square to gain color, only to be presented with a blank square. He is shunned by his family, having to struggle through high school while trying to figure out what to do for the rest of his life. Jungkook's life gets flipped upside down on the day of his twenty-first birthday when the store he works at is robbed with Jungkook at the cash register. Fearing for his life he believes he is going to die, only to be saved by a figure in black with a mask covering his face. To make things even worse, Jungkook suddenly becomes the target of one of the largest drug syndicates, solely because of his new connection to his savior and five other men who turn out to be the biggest crime lords in Seoul. What happens then, you ask? Well, then the blank world Jungkook always saw starts to drip with black, just a little bit.

blueberry peaches (a serendipitous summer) by elle_O_moonchild (WIP)

Jungkook spends a life changing summer working at a beachside car wash and meets 6 new lovers who change his heart and life forever.

Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM

Falling For an Alien From Amalthea 5 by Pyotr_Keats78 (WIP)

Jungkook has been in and out of the hospital for years with various medical problems. Eventually, his heart becomes so weak that no human medicine can save him. Believing he will die never having come out as trans to anyone, he gives up. That is until his brother Jimin tells him, “You have two choices, Jungah: you can stay here in this hospital and get high every day until your heart fails you, or you can go to Amalthea, grow a parasite, and live.”

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin

Mentoring on Marsa by FlyYouFools1

Jungkook comes to the planet Marsa after being promised a full scholarship to Marsa National University. When the scholarship falls through, his academic advisor gives him the number for a mentoring service for newly stranded omegas on Marsa. With rent due, no way home, and no success in finding a job, Jungkook calls the number. The organization sends him Min Yoongi, a fellow omega who's been living on Marsa for 8 years. Yoongi teaches him how to survive. Jungkook's first attempt at survival is alpha couple Jimin and Taehyung.

Features: Yoongi doing his best to teach Jungkook how to manage handsy alphas, handsy alphas (like all of them are touchy) taking liberties with omega protagonists, and my best attempt at writing problematic but entertaining sex. A lot of fluff too, actually. The alphas are fluffy as hell with the omegas, and pamper them a lot, even though their actual behavior is wrong.

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V/Min Yoongi | Suga

November (series) by cuttothequickk

Summary from the first fic:

Sometimes, Jeongguk gets so lonely he doesn't even feel alone anymore. He's practicing, and he's very good at it. Loneliness. Being alone. It's blustery cold, and the leaves are falling from the branches of trembling trees, and Jeongguk is alone in a big city, shivering without a jacket, trying desperately to keep himself warm.

There is no one, and then there is someone. Two someones. The lovely winter boys from Daegu, Taehyung and Yoongi, opposites and equals, so loving and in love.

It would be ridiculous, really, if Jeongguk didn't fall for them, too.

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga

how, or when, or from where by moonsuns

“Stop calling it my quest,” Namjoon whines, and Hoseok laughs.

“You’re the one that said it first.”

“I was drunk.”

“Well, the bad thing about going out with people, is that you can’t take back the stupid shit you said when you were drunk. Especially when they’re way less drunk than you.”

Or, after Namjoon almost dies, he decides to go on a quest to live his best life, and takes Yoongi and Hoseok along for the ride.

(* Personal favorites)

MASTERPOST FIC RECS PART 1

#bts fic rec #my fic recs #mine #koobi #jikook #namkook #jinkook #namseok #vhope #namjin #taejoon #namgi #minimoni #yoonjin #yoonmin #ot7 #bts poly #bts

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

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Dancing our dance

Summary: Sina was a city of wretched and helpless. A place governed by misery, terror and ruthless, cold-hearted criminals.

As horrible as it was, however, there were quite a few things that made Levi’s life in this city almost enjoyable.

A ganster!AU and Levihan Secret Santa gift for collapsability! Happy New Year <33

Sina. The greatest city on Earth. The place of flourish and success. A metropolis of wretched and damned. A place, where rich and elite could only prosper, multiplying their wealth and increasing their status, while hungry and poor were fighting each other for the smallest scraps of food.

Levi had experienced the worst of both worlds. He knew the desperation, the hunger that gnawed at him while he lived in the slumbers with rats as his company. And he was familiar with comfort and luxuries of life as a rich man. He also knew the danger, the constant fear that one mistake, a single wrong move could cost him not only his carefully cumulated wealth, but his life as well.

Considering his lifestyle, Levi was sure he wouldn't have lived for long. And he wouldn't have, if he hadn't stuck to the winning team.

Erwin Smith was sharp, calculating and ruthless. His biggest talent, though, was his exceptional ability to surround himself with the best of the best and inspire undying loyalty in them. Levi was good, excellent with guns and even better with knifes, but he wasn't the only member of Erwin's gang. There was Mike - an expert brawler and a man of few words, which made him even more valuable, Nanaba - an elite sniper and doctor, and, of course, Hange Zoe – a genius scientist and a massive pain in Levi's ass. She was loud, messy and had an uncanny ability to attract all sorts of trouble. Which made Levi's life just that much harder, since most of the times, Erwin made them work side by side.

Hange was smart, unbelievably so, but she was also so, so careless that Levi had to watch her every move, afraid that if he so much as looks away, Hange would instantly get swept in some trouble.

Even now, as he was sitting inside the overcrowded, bustling with people Wings of Freedom - a popular night club, owned by Erwin, - Levi couldn't take his eyes off Hange.

Wings of Freedom was the place for the richest, most famous citizens of Sina. No one could get in, if they weren't approved by Erwin and his gang first. Despite the harsh restrictions and the overpriced alcohol that was served there, it was always full of customers. The success of the club was well-deserved, though. The alcohol, as expensive as it was, was also good. It wasn’t watered down like in the rest of speakeasies. And Levi couldn’t deny it, the interior of the club was breathtaking. As a former street rat, Wings of Freedom was a definition of wealth and prestige for him. It was a grand, spectacular thing with high glass ceilings, large, bright candelabras, red carpets on the floor and big, bright stage. Only the best musicians were allowed to perform in there, and Levi had no doubts about the vast talent that the current artists possessed. However, he was too preoccupied with boring holes into a certain four-eyed idiot to appreciate their efforts.

The dance floor, situated right beneath the stage, was as overflowing with people as the rest of the speakeasy. But Levi could recognize that mop of brown messy hair everywhere, and he watched it move around intently. Hange was in the middle of dance floor, spinning some unknown woman in a frilly yellow dress. Despite the uncomfortable feeling and overprotective instinct that appeared upon watching someone else touch Hange, Levi couldn't help but admire her movements. As clumsy as she could be, in a fight or a dance, Hange was as graceful as they come. Levi lost himself in following every move of her body, the way she spun, jumped and waved her hands. She was doing all of it so effortlessly, wearing an excited grin on her face.

Suddenly Hange looked away from her dance partner. Their eyes met, that little spark inside her gaze evident even from great distance. She winked at him, and Levi felt his face flush. He lifted his glass, gulping the contents down in one go. The whiskey burned his throat and he winced, turning away from Hange. He looked around, desperate to find something else to preoccupy himself with. Distraction came fairly quickly in the form of big oak door that opened at the other way of the room.

Looks like the big man is here, Levi sighed, getting to his feet and starting to descend down the stairs to the dance floor. It was time to retrieve Hange.

It was time for work.

***

Hange jumped, when Levi pulled her closer by the back of her suspenders. She whirled around, wide eyed and surprised.

"Levi!" she raised her voice, panting slightly. Even met with his scowl, the grin didn't leave her face. On the contrary, it only grew wider. "Finally came down to join me?"

Levi glanced at Hange's partner, who was awkwardly stomping behind, unsure of what to do. "You know I don't dance," he shook his head. "So say goodbye to your girlfriend and let's go. Erwin is here."

"Already?" Hange whined. "But I was having so much fun!"

"Tough shit," Levi answered, glaring at the girl Hange was having so much fun with.

"You owe me a dance then," she pointed a finger at Levi. "And I don't take no for an answer," she added, shutting down any possible protest.

"Let's finish the work first," Levi grunted. He didn't say yes to Hange's demand.

He didn't say no either.

"Hurry up then!" Hange exclaimed, linking her arm with Levi's and dragging him up the stairs. She didn't say goodbye, didn't even glance at the girl she was dancing with.

Levi hid a satisfied smirk.

***

Erwin, when they approached him, looked as immaculate as always. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle on his pristinely white shirt. It was always so hot in Wings of Freedom and Levi wondered how much Erwin must be sweating in his grey three-piece suit. Levi himself, as meticulous as he was about his appearance, had taken off his jacket, wearing a dark blue vest with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows. And Hange wasn't even wearing a vest, but only a stripped light colored shirt.

"Hi, Erwin," Hange slide in a booth from the left side and pecked him on a cheek.

"Good evening, Hange," Erwin smiled. "I saw you were having a lot of fun."

"That I did," she grinned. “Unfortunately, it was cut off so abruptly,” she noted, glaring at Levi.

"What do you need us to do?" ignoring Hange’s petulance, Levi sat down as well, taking a seat at Erwin’s right side.

Erwin's smile turned into a serious frown.

"I have found an informant. He knows something, I'm sure, but he refused to talk with Mike. Maybe, you'll have more luck with him.

"Informant?" Hange asked, surprised. "Does he know something about—"

"Yes," Erwin answered, clenching his jaw. "He knows about Titans."

Levi's eyes darkened as soon as he heard that name. Titans were a rival gang, who terrorized the city every night. As powerful as Erwin was, he couldn't get rid of them. They lurked in the shadows, hidden from everyone. As ferocious as they were, no one even knew who their leader was. Levi didn't care. Whoever that bastard was, he was going to kill them, along with every member. He swore to do it years ago. On his friend's graves. Sweet, innocent Isabel and wise, reliable Farlan - his first true friends. Levi would never forget them. And he would make sure that those who had taken them from him would pay for their mistake.

A warm, comforting touch interrupted his dark thoughts. Levi looked up, meeting Hange's gaze. She smiled at him, worry swirling in her warm brown eyes.

Levi turned away from her, directing his stare at Erwin. Before Hange took away her hand, however, Levi patted it softly, silently thanking for the concern.

"So we need to find that informant and make him spill the info?" Hange clarified.

"Basically, yes. Here," he handed Hange a small file. She opened it instantly, pushing the glasses up her nose and quickly scanning over the pages. "Your target is the man named Nick. He lives in downtown and works in the nearby church as a pastor—"

"Pastor?" Hange looked up, wearing a mischievous grin. "That's intriguing."

Erwin turned his stern gaze at her. "Don't overdo it, Hange We need him alive. And, preferably, mentally stable."

Hange scoffed, crossing hands on her chest. "Don't know what you're talking about. I've never—"

"Really, four-eyes? Remember that guy who—"

"That was one time!" Hange cut him off, before Levi could finish. Erwin didn't need to know about that time. "And he was an asshole and totally deserved it."

"And what about that other guy—"

"It was an accident!" Hange gritted through her teeth, her fists clutched tightly together.

"Calm down," Erwin scolded them, covering his eyes with a hand and letting out an exhausted sigh. "I swear to god, sometimes you both act like you're still children."

"I'm nothing like her—"

“Considering his height, he’s still—"

"Enough!" Erwin barked, exasperated. "Just go already. Before I develop a migraine."

"He started it first," Hange pouted. As soon, as Erwin looked away, she stuck her tongue out.

Levi didn't retaliate. He was going to behave. At least, while Erwin is watching.

"Let's go, four-eyes," he got to his feet, waiting for Hange to join him.

"Oh, right!" she exclaimed, smacking her forehead in frustration. "I totally forgot, we should hurry!"

Erwin arched an eyebrow. "Are you late for something?"

"Oh, you don't know it yet," with a sly smile, Hange leaned closer to Erwin's ear, although, she didn't bother to lower her voice. "Levi asked me for a dance afterward."

"I didn't not," Levi grunted, trying (and failing) to keep a straight, calm face under Erwin's amused gaze.

"I've never seen Levi dance," he commented, scratching his chin. "You should truly hurry, Hange. I want to see him dance too. It's once in a lifetime occurrence after all."

"Roger that, boss!" Hange did a mocking salute and then grabbed Levi's hand, dragging him out of the club.

Levi surrendered with a heavy sigh. Now there was no way he could avoid this dancing stuff.

"How do I look?" she asked, turning to Levi with a lopsided grin.

***

The first thing Hange did as she walked out of the car that Levi parked near the pastor's house was putting on her hat. She made sure that the accessory sat comfortably and then ran a hand over the brim.

"Awful," he replied dryly. "What is our plan?"

"The usual," Hange shrugged. She didn't bat an eye at Levi's jab, continuing to casually stroll through the street. "I do the talking, you do your scary face thing."

"Alright," Levi agreed easily. The plan suited him well. Never failed them before too.

"Huh," Hange whistled, putting hands on her hips and staring up at the building in front of her. "That's quite a nice house. Do you think all pastors earn that much?"

"Do I look like a pastor to you? How the fuck should I know?"

"You could pull off pastor's look, though," Hange continued, cheerful, despite his harsh words. "If you ever need to go undercover..."

Ignoring her blubbering and pushing past her, Levi stepped on a venue leading up to the front door. His eyes narrowed, as he stared at the house in front of him. He glanced to his wrist watch. He frowned.

"It's almost midnight..."

"And yet our pastor is still awake," Hange threw an arm over his shoulder, watching the house as well. "Maybe, he's insomniac?"

"Only one way to find out," Levi pointed his chin towards the door and made another step towards the house.

"Wait," Hange's hand caught his wrist. Levi turned back, alarmed by the sudden seriousness of her tone.

"Before we go inside... I need to know what you prefer the most - Charleston, Fox-Trot or Texas Tommy?"

Levi needed a few seconds to realize what the fuck Hange was on about. He blinked a few times, staring at her with a dumbfounded face. And when it finally hit him, he snatched his hand out of her grasp. Hange was such an idiot, why he even bothered to listen to her?

"I didn't agree to dance with you, four-eyes," he scowled at her. Under the weight of his gaze, anyone else would have shrined in fear. Hange just smirked. Levi resisted the urge to lash out on her or leave her to deal with the shitty pastor alone. Would have served her right for being such a jerk. He took a deep breath, calming himself down. There was a job they needed to finish. He wouldn't let Hange's idiocy distract him from that.

"Focus on a task on hand please," he told her, trying to keep his voice steady.

"And when we finish?"

Levi sent her another sizzling gaze. It produced no effect whatsoever.

He took another breath. "And then we'll see. The club could be closed by the time we're done here."

"It closes at dawn," Hange stated matter-of-fact.

Levi muttered a few curses. She was doing this on purpose. Riling him up just to make him lose it. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

Turning away from her and ignoring Hange’s annoyed mumbling, Levi reached the front door and knocked.

It was quiet for the first few seconds. Then the sound of shuffling could be heard. A moment later, the door opened, revealing a balding middle-aged man.

Hange took a step forward, waving her hand gleefully.

The man's eyes widened. He tried to slam the door closed. Levi's leg didn't give him a chance to.

"Pastor Nick, right? We just came here to talk!" Hange grinned. "There is no need to be afraid! We're—"

"I know who you are," pastor's lip was trembling. Levi absentmindedly wondered if he would start crying. He hoped not. He hated when people cry. "You... You're Erwin Smith's devil duo."

Hange nudged Levi in the side, almost glowing with happiness. "They have a nickname for us, Levi. We're getting famous!"

"We're criminals, Hange," Levi coughed, trying to mask the affection in his voice. As annoying as Hange could be, she was also so fucking endearing. "We shouldn't be famous."

“Still,” Hange flipped the hat on her head, still grinning from ear to ear. “It’s nice to know we have a reputation.”

"And you," Hange said to pastor, her eyes turning sharp. "If you know so much about us, you should know that we don't harm innocent, so if you got nothing to hide, you've got nothing to be afraid of," she spread her arms, putting on a friendly, sweet smile. Beside her, Levi rolled his eyes. Hange's theatrics were over the top sometimes. Almost no one bought her act anyway.

Pastor Nick wasn't an exception.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Levi warned, when pastor reached with his hand to the side of the door.

"I know nothing!" pastor Nick threw hands in the air. "Your boss just got some false data."

Levi cocked his eyebrow, giving pastor a look full of disbelief. Erwin sending them on a mission before checking his information as thorough as possible and making sure it wasn’t just a dumb rumor? Highly unlikely.

"Maybe, you could just allow us to come inside? We'll have a nice little chat and then we'll decide if what you know is worthy for us or no," Hange's smile grew wider and Levi's scowl grew darker and pastor's resolve crumbled.

With a deep, shaky sigh, he took a step back, allowing them to enter.

"And we did it!" Hange whispered, clasping Levi on a back.

"We're not done yet," he reminded her, eyeing the pastor with suspicion. The way he acted... so desperate to make them leave... Levi couldn't help but wonder what pastor was trying to hide. What he was afraid of? Was he simply frightened by the fact that they're gangsters? Possibly, but if he had the info on Titans, he must have been quite familiar with the criminal underworld. Besides, they weren't asking to join their ranks, just spill some intel. And it wasn't like Hange was lying, they never harmed innocents. Even more, Erwin always offered protection to the ones who aided him.

Could it be that pastor wasn't afraid of them? Then who was it? Titans?

"Levi?" Hange interrupted his thoughts by patting his shoulder. Levi met her eyes, turning away from pastor. She held his gaze, nodding ever so slightly. So he wasn't seeing things. Hange was suspecting something too. "Would you make us some tea, please? While me and pastor talk?"

"Of course," he agreed. This too was the part of their routine. According to Hange, it was easier to win the target's trust if Levi wasn't in the room with them and his cold steely eyes weren't boring holes into them. This tactic always worked and Levi had no reason to doubt it this time too. Still he was reluctant to leave Hange alone with pastor. That look in his eyes, Levi didn't like it.

"I'll be fine," Hange smiled faintly, noticing Levi's unwillingness. "Besides, you're just a room away."

“Of course, you’re right. Just don’t lose your focus, Hange.”

With one last look at pastor, Levi turned away, heading in the direction that he hoped would lead him to the kitchen.

Levi's guess was corrected.

When he entered the dark room and turned on a switch, he saw a spacious and neat room with fridge, cupboards, oven and sink. He went straight to the oven, meaning to heat up the cattle. His eyebrows furrowed when he touched the cattle. It was hot as though it was recently heated up. Was their pastor a fan of midnight tea? Or was he expecting someone?

Instinctively, Levi glanced behind his back, at the wall that separated kitchen from the living room. A hushed voice could be heard from inside the room. It was calm and persuading and it belonged to Hange. Some tension left his body, as Levi listened to it. The voice was too soft to hear what Hange was actually talking about, but, nevertheless, it calmed him down. Levi turned around, intent to finish his job. The water was already boiled. Now he needed to find some tea. And cups, where he could pour it.

He lifted his eyes. There were six cupboards hanging on the wall. Levi chose the closest to him and opened it. Seasonings and eggs. He sighed and opened the next one. It held napkins and towels. He moved further. This cupboard was used for storing pans, the next one - cots. Levi cursed and slammed it shut with more force than necessary. The tableware inside rattled dangerously. He ignored it, opening the fifth cupboard, this one with plates. Levi’s expression relaxed a bit, he was getting closer. He looked inside the last one, and finally, this one held cups. Standing on his tiptoes, he took three cups out and put them on a table. Then he returned to the first cupboard, the one with seasonings and rummaged through it, looking for any kind of tea. Surprisingly, pastor's collection was quite large. Levi's respect for the man grew, as he found his favorite kind of tea – lapsang souchong.

As he waited for the tea to brew, Levi studied the kitchen. Hange was right, the house looked too good to belong to a simple pastor. How an old man who lived alone could afford it? And how could he afford so many kinds of tea? Even Levi's collection wasn't so vast, and he frequently used his connections to get the best kinds, since some of them weren't even distributed in their city. But how could pastor get his hands on them? And was it connected to the fact that he knew something about Titans? Too many unknowns in this seemingly simple equation. Levi didn't like it. However, it wasn't his job to think about it. Hange was the brain of their duo after all.

His job right now involved brewing a tea. He poured it into the cups and put them on a tray. Then be added three spoons of sugar into Hange's cup. He stirred it carefully and then picked up the tray, heading to the living room.

Hopefully, Hange was done with pestering their target.

***

"Here you are," Hange spoke warmly. She rose to her feet and helped Levi set the tray onto a coffee table. Sitting down next to her on the sofa, Levi handed Hange and pastor, who was sitting in a big armchair, their teacups. Hange accepted hers with a grateful smile. Pastor scoffed with a disgruntled expression.

"Do you really think I'm dumb enough to drink whatever you put in your so called tea?”

"If I wanted to kill you," Levi said in a dark, low voice. "I wouldn't have used poison, you dipshit."

"We've already established the fact that we very much need you alive, pastor. And besides," Hange grinned, a bright contrast to Levi's gloomy look. "Levi takes great pride in his tea making abilities. As he should," she noted, lifting the cup to her lips, taking the first sip. "Mm," she closed her eyes, a blissful expression on her face. "The best tea in the city."

"Don't exaggerate, Hange," Levi scolded harshly, ignoring the warm sensation that spread through his veins at her praise. “Just because I can actually brew something better than that piss you called tea, doesn’t mean it’s the best tea.”

Hange started laughing – as always loudly and unabashedly, with her head thrown back and her hair flying everywhere. She spilled some of her tea in the process and Levi tsked, taking a handkerchief out of his pants and throwing it at Hange.

“Erwin Smith’s devil duo, huh?” pastor Nick mumbled, too quiet for either of them to hear. “They’re quite a pair.”

Everything that happened next, happened way too quickly.

Pastor took the cup into his hands, intending to take a taste of the tea Hange was praising so much. Levi turned to stare at him, curious for his reaction. Hange followed the suit, the hand that wasn’t holding her own cup, thrown over Levi’s shoulders. The cup almost touched pastor’s lips, when the front door of the house was thrown open. The man appeared – dressed in a long coat, his face obscured by shadows. He ran into the living room, and took out a gun. Levi jumped to his feet, ready to attack, but before he could do anything, two gunshots rang. With wide eyes, Levi stared at the pastor’s now dead body with a hole in the center of his forehead.

He was frozen for merely a second, a second too long. By the time he snapped out of it, the shooter was already gone. Levi rushed after him, running through the front door and onto the porch. It was empty, no sight of the culprit. He looked around the empty, silent and lamp-lit street. Nothing. He gritted his teeth, kicking the curb in frustration.

Titans, for he was sure it was their work, had killed another innocent right in front of him. And just like the first time, just like with Farlan and Isabel, there was nothing he could do to stop them. At the memory of his late friends, Levi was overcome with frustration. He promised to protect them, and failed. He promised to avenge them, and failed again.

Useless. He was fucking useless. What good his skills did, if he couldn’t protect the ones closest to him?

The silence of the street around him was deafening, pressing onto Levi from all sides. Quiet, it was too quiet. Why was it so quiet here? It shouldn’t be, Levi realized with a start. Hange was with him, it shouldn’t be so goddamn quiet.

And then it hit him. Hange. Where the fuck was she? Why wasn’t she by his side, searching for the killer with him? Another revelation almost knocked the air out of Levi. There were two gunshots. What if the other one wasn’t meant for pastor?

With heart in his throat, Levi dashed back inside. Something close to a prayer was going through his head, as he tried to push the image of Hange’s bloodied, lifeless body out of his mind.

No, he won’t let that happen. He won’t lose another friend.

"Hange?" Levi called, stumbling inside. "Hange, where are you?"

There was no answer. Why was there no answer?

The seconds it took for him to reach the living room felt like years. More than anything, Levi was afraid to arrive too late. He couldn't repeat the same mistake. Not with Hange.

As he entered the living room, Levi's knees nearly gave out and a wave of relief washed over him. Hange— she was alive.

He hastily approached her, grabbing her elbows and turning her around to face him. His eyes skimmed along her body, searching for any sight of the injury. Despite her labored breathing, Hange seemed to be unharmed. Levi looked her over more carefully and his heart skipped a beat, when he saw a small dark spot on her otherwise clean shirt. His fingers touched that place gingerly.

"It's not mine," Hange said, and the hollowness of her voice took Levi's breath away. He lifted his gaze, staring at her face. Only now he noticed the blood on her cheek. She must have stood next to pastor, when he was shot, he realized. What frightened Levi more, however, was the faraway look in her eyes. She was in shock, Levi guessed. He needed to calm her down and then get her out of here.

"They killed him..." Hange whispered. She turned around, staring at the pastor's body so intently, it made a shiver run down Levi's spine.

He curled his fingers around her wrist, his every move slow and careful.

"Hange, we need to go," he pulled at her hand, tugging her closer. "The cops are going to be there soon, we should leave."

"Yeah," Hange nodded. She wasn't completely with him yet, and Levi wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her outside and then into the car. Opening the passenger door, he pushed her inside. He grabbed his jacket from the back seat and draped it over Hange. Kneeling in front of her, he rubbed her arms soothingly, looking into her eyes. The spark in her eyes wasn't there yet, but— Hange was slowly coming back. Levi lifted his hand, taking off her glasses and folding them carefully in the front pocket of his shirt. Gently, he whipped the blood from her cheek and after that, proceeded to clean the glasses too.

Putting them back on her face, Levi forced a smile. "Are you feeling better?"

"Did you get them? The shooter?"

Levi looked away, not wanting to see the disappointment inside those eyes. "No," he said, clenching his jaw.

"Fuck," Hange breathed out. "We let them get away once again."

"I was the one who fucked up.”

"Shut up," Hange pushed him away, strong enough to make Levi lose his balance and fell on his ass. He didn't get up, though, instead staring at Hange in surprise. That spark in her eyes - it was finally back. It was even more intense than usual, as Hange glared at him.

"I hate when you do that - blame yourself for everything. Not everything is your fault! We fucked up this time, yes. You didn't catch the guy, but I should have noticed that something was wrong. And I did, but decided to ignore it. We both made a mistake, and it’s up to us to make everything right. Together as we always do." A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips, as she extended a hand to him. "Don't you agree?"

Levi accepted her hand with a grunt. "Erwin's rubbed off on you," he complained, getting to his feet. "You sound just like him."

Hange chucked, her eyes sparking, and Levi let himself relax. She was still shaken, but that hollowness was gone.

"Thanks," Hange muttered, when Levi got inside the car. "I was a little out of it."

Levi nodded, starting the car. His mind was still reeling from tonight's events. While Hange was a little out of it, he was scared shitless. He was afraid that he made another mistake, he was afraid that he lost her.

It terrified him more than Levi was ready to admit. Hange, that little shit, managed to worm her way into his heart. He wasn't strong enough to stop her then, and he isn’t strong enough to push her away now.

Levi sighed, opening the window and letting the cold wind clear his head.

"Charleston, Texas Tommy or Fox-Trot?" he kept his eyes straight on the road, his voice as bored and emotionless as ever.

"Levi?" Hange frowned. "What are you—"

"What do you prefer, four-eyes?" he glowered, his cheeks turning red.

"Oh," for a moment, Hange was silent. She sat with her hands on her knees, her lips slowly curling into a grin.

"Since it's our first dance," she met his eyes in the rear window, winking. "I'll let you chose."

Levi grunted, gripping the steering wheel tighter and pushing down the gas pedal, speeding up. Hange didn't need to know it, of course, but he was pretty excited. He was also more than a little bit nervous. He had never really learnt how to dance. There was never a suitable partner. But now... Levi glanced at Hange, subtly admiring her profile. With her, maybe, it could all work out.

***

Just when they almost reached Wings of Freedom, Levi took a sharp turn, going into the opposite direction.

"Um, Levi? It's the wrong turn. The club is up ahead."

"I hate this place. It's too hot and there are too many people. Since it's our first dance," he showed Hange a small smirk. "I want to take you somewhere special."

***

Levi’s special place turned out to be a small park on the edge of Sina. Away from flashing city’s lights, it was dark, but cozy small place with only a few benches and a lonely swing, standing in a corner. It was situated on a precipice, and the whole city could be seen from up there.

“It’s beautiful,” Hange breathed out, her eyes full of childish wonder. She was standing at the very edge of precipice, gripping the metal railing with her hands. Logically, Levi knew that it was highly unlikely that Hange would fall over. Still, he stood a little closer to her, hovering just in case.

“Amongst all the horrors this city hides, it’s easy to forget how many wondrous things are there as well.” She bumped his shoulder with a grin. “You’re one of those wondrous things, Levi.”

“Shut up,” he grunted, feeling warmth spread through him at her words. Hange’s affection never failed in making him feel embarrassed. It also never failed in making him feel good. Levi craved her warmth more than he was comfortable admitting. That’s why he tried not to think about it too much.

“C’mon, four-eyes,” he tugged at her wrist, dragging away from the edge. “We came here to dance, did we not?”

"Someone's impatient, huh?" Hange teased. She stood in front of him, her arms hovering above his. "So... How do you want to do this?"

It didn't take Levi much time to decide. He did think about it. He put his left hand on her shoulder, and with his right one he grasped her palm. He took a step closer, their feet almost touching.

"Like this," he whispered.

"Alright," Hange nodded, a little shakily. "Alright, let's do it then."

She started to slowly move them around. Levi had never really understood the common obsession with dancing. People just spinned around while holding hands. There was nothing seemingly pleasant about this.

Now, though, he was inclined to change to his mind. Dancing with Hange was... fun. He liked the feeling of her hand in his, enjoyed the way she firmly held his waist. And looking up at her, with her eyes sparkling brightly even in the dark, Levi felt like he could keep dancing with her for hours. With Hange beside him, he was slowly forgetting about everything else. He felt like Hange and he were the only people in the world, nothing else mattered but Hange's bright eyes and soft smile. Nothing else was more important than this one small moment.

Hange sighed, putting her chin on Levi’s head. "I really needed this tonight. Thank you for indulging me, shorty."

"It's not that bad."

Hange stopped abruptly, her eyes going wide.

"Levi..." she began carefully. "Are you saying.... that you are enjoying this?"

"I said what I said," Levi retorted harshly. Maybe, he did enjoy the dance. What was wrong about it?

"Well, if you like it so much," Hange drew with a smirk on her lips. "We can do it more often."

"I will never dance in Erwin's shitty club."

"You didn't say no," Hange noted.

"I didn't," he agreed softly.

Hange beamed, and in the darkness, her smile was shining more brightly than the whole city below.

#levihansecretsanta #levihanss2020 #levihan

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kelyon · 3 years

Text

Golden Rings 15: A Sheriff

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Emma steps in

Read on AO3

Emma Swan was having a craptastic day.

After ten years in a row of solo Valentine’s Days, she didn’t expect the holiday to still get to her. And yet it had.

Maybe it was Storybrooke, with cutesy paper hearts in the windows of almost every store on Main Street. Maybe it was her roommate Mary Margaret, who kept believing in True Love no matter how hard she was proven wrong. You’d think a woman sneaking around with a married man wouldn’t be such a romantic. But you’d be wrong.

Maybe it was Henry. Regina had put her foot down on them spending much time together, and it had been a few days since she’d seen him. For all the confusing feelings Emma had about Henry and about the thought of being his mother, she missed the kid. He was good company. He was a believer too, and he wanted her to join him in his delusion, the whole fairy tale thing. True Love’s Kiss and Happy Ever After and Good Triumphing Over Evil. Too bad he looked so much like the person who had put the nail in the coffin of her ever believing in True Love again.

That night was supposed to be girl’s night. Mary Margaret had called it “Galentine’s Day,” which was very Mary Margaret. Emma joined the group at the Rabbit Hole for an evening of forgetting about the men in their lives. Or the absence of men, as the case may be.

The good times had lasted about an hour, until Ashley’s boyfriend Sean showed up at the bar with a ring and a bended knee. Ashley said yes and they left together. After that Ruby drifted over to some rowdy college guys and Mary Margaret announced her desire to go home to the only men who would never let her down--Ben and Jerry.

Later, as she walked around town, Emma had seen David Nolan in the window of Dark Star Pharmacy. He’d had his back to the window, in front of the Valentine’s Day card display. He’d walked away with two pink cards, despite the fact that he only had one wife. She didn’t know whether to feel worse for Mary Margaret or for Kathryn Nolan.

In the end, this was yet another Valentine’s Day alone. Not just single, but without friends or family too. At least this year she had a job and a decent place to crash.

Emma had considered spending a quiet night at the station. It had been months since she’d been elected Sheriff, but she still hadn’t gotten a handle on all of Graham’s old files. There were a lot of them, and none of them were dated so it was almost impossible to get an idea of the timeline of criminal activity over the years.

But then she heard a woman shriek over by Granny’s Diner.

Sometimes Emma missed the days when she could stumble on a situation like this and then decide to turn around and walk the other way. A big part of surviving in all the various tight spots she’d been in was knowing when something was Not Your Business. Best way to get out of trouble was to never get into it in the first place.

But she was Sheriff now. Duly elected by the people of Storybrooke. As a public servant, public safety was Her Business.

“I can’t go with you!”

The woman’s voice shouted again and Emma picked up her pace. The woman sounded drunk and upset. The fact that the man talking to her sounded calm and sober did not ease Emma’s mind.

She turned the corner and saw Gold.

Landlord, loan shark, pawnbroker and power broker, he’d been at the top of Emma’s list of shady characters for a long time. The fact that he’d helped her get elected only made him more suspicious. A man like that didn’t do things without an ulterior motive and she already owed him a favor because of that thing with Ashley and Sean’s baby.

Gold had his hands out to a woman who was bent over and crying. Had he hit her? Was he about to?

Emma had never officially met Mrs. Gold, but she had seen her around town. She was usually dressed like she was now--big hair, high heels, clothes either too short or too tight or both. Graham had a stack of files on Mrs. Gold. People could be close-lipped about their landlord, but everyone had a wild story about his wife.

Nobody ever mentioned how young she was.

It was hard to tell with the heavy makeup and the heavier crying, but Mrs. Gold looked barely out of her teens. And Gold was easily in his fifties. Everyone talked about them like they’d been married for years. How old had she been when they’d gotten married?

Emma’s opinion of Gold went down another notch.

“Is everything alright?”

It was a pretty standard opening question for a cop. Part of Emma was still surprised to be asking it instead of hearing it. She put her hands on her hips to clearly display her badge.

“We’re fine.” Gold held up his hand. Like he could stop her from getting closer.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Emma said calmly as she pushed past him.

Mrs. Gold was bent over double, clutching her stomach. What the hell had he done to her? Squatting on her heels, Emma touched her on the shoulder.

“Mrs. Gold, are you okay?”

Drunk, red, teary eyes slowly tried to focus. Mrs. Gold’s mouth opened, but then she shook her head and started crying again.

“Sheriff, I appreciate your concern. As you can see, my wife has had too much to drink and I’m trying to get her home.”

Emma looked at Mrs. Gold. “Do you want to go home with him?”

This time, instead of shaking her head, Mrs. Gold closed her eyes and sank lower to the ground. Still balanced on her heels, she curled herself into a ball. Emma stood up and looked at Gold.

“That isn’t a yes.”

He rolled his eyes, which did not help his case. “Please, Miss Swan, this is a private matter.”

Emma made a show of scanning Main Street up and down. “Pretty sure it’s happening in public. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“I already did: Mrs. Gold had too much wine at dinner and now she’s throwing a fit. I’m trying to get her back to the house, where she won’t be a public nuisance any longer.” Gold’s consonants were clipped, and he spoke with a biting quickness. He was irritated.

Irritated. While his wife was crying in the street.

She crouched down again. “Have you been drinking, Mrs. Gold?” Obviously she had, but it was important to let the woman speak for herself. Gold had to know she wasn’t just going to take his word on what was going on.

“I had a bottle of wine,” Mrs. Gold’s voice wobbled. She was still crying. “And I didn’t eat dinner.”

“That’ll do it,” Emma nodded. She held out her hand. “You wanna try standing up? I can take you in the diner for some food, coffee.”

She shook her head. “I wanna roll in a ditch and stay there forever.” She broke down in a fresh wave of sobs that toppled her over and landed her butt-first on the sidewalk.

Emma winced and picked Mrs. Gold up. The woman clung to her as they stood, like an old cartoon of a drunk leaning on a lamppost.

“Thank you, Miss Swan,” Gold said smoothly. “Do you want to try to walk her to the parking lot or shall I bring the car around?”

Emma adjusted her grip on Mrs. Gold. She was light and tiny--helpless. “I haven’t determined that she wants to go home with you, Gold.”

He looked shocked, offended. “What difference does that make? The state she’s in, she doesn’t know what she wants.”

Is that the way you like her? Emma was smart enough to not voice her suspicions out loud. But she knew enough about Gold to know that nothing was beneath him. This woman wasn’t safe.

Gently extracting herself, Emma put her hands on Mrs. Gold’s shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Mrs. Gold, can you talk to me for a sec?”

Mrs. Gold put a hand up to her mouth and nodded.

“Can you give me a word?”

After a moment’s thought, Mrs. Gold closed her eyes and said, “Yeah.”

“Do you know that man standing behind us?”

This question was met with a glare, first at Emma, then at Gold. “Mr. Gold is supposed to be my husband,” she slurred. “He’s supposed to care about me.” She began to push against Emma’s grasp, shouting at Gold. “You’re supposed to love me, you bastard! I put up with so much shit for you!”

“Okay.” Emma cut off the drunken rant before it could build up steam. “Do you want to go home with him right now?”

“No.” Mrs. Gold was swaying on her feet, but she knew her own mind.

“Okay,” Emma nodded. “I won’t let that happen then.”

“Sheriff Swan, this is ridic--”

“She said no.” Emma spun around to face Gold. She didn’t yell at him. She didn’t have to. Sometimes doing the right thing was complicated and messy, but sometimes it was amazingly simple.

She left Gold standing in silence and turned back to Mrs. Gold. “Now, do you have somebody you can stay with tonight? Friends? Family?”

Mutely, Mrs. Gold shook her head.

“Do your parents live around here?”

Her face crumpled like a paper bag and she began to cry again.

“Okay.” Emma gave her a few awkward pats on the back. “It’s okay. We’ve all been there.” She’d certainly been there more times than she could count.

“As you can see,” Gold’s cane tapped on the sidewalk as he stepped closer, “my wife doesn’t have anyone in her life but me.”

And who’s fault is that? Emma wondered. Out loud all she said was, “Not while I’m around.”

“What, precisely, do you intend to do with her?”

“We’re going back to the station.” Emma helped Mrs. Gold get her arms into her coat and began to half-lead, half-carry her down the street. “Is it okay if I help you walk?”

Mrs. Gold nodded and took a few staggering steps on her own. If it weren’t so cold, Emma would have told her to take off the heels.

Gold followed behind them. “Sheriff! You can’t just run off with my wife!”

Emma looked over her shoulder at Gold. “Well, I could arrest her for public drunkenness. And I could arrest you for interfering in police business. I could get out the handcuffs and the tasers and the billy clubs, because you two are clearly a danger to the safety of the town.” Emma took a moment to let her words sink in.

The problem with being the only cop on duty was that she had to be both Good Cop and Bad Cop.

“Or,” she went on. “We could, all three of us, take a nice walk to the station. Maybe the night air will clear our heads. I sincerely hope Mrs. Gold finds a quiet place to throw up because the sooner she gets sober the better.” She started walking again and shouted back to Gold. “You can come with us or you can go to hell, but I’m not gonna drag both of you.”

****

Emma was able to get Mrs. Gold all the way to the station bathrooms before she threw up. Gold trailed behind them the whole way. Was he slow because of his cane or because he didn’t want to come? Either way, he was standing outside the women’s room when they emerged.

When she saw her husband, Mrs. Gold shrank back. But she didn’t start crying again.

“Office is through that door,” Emma pointed behind Gold’s shoulder. “Feel free to have a seat, we’re gonna go get some water.”

She took Mrs. Gold to the water cooler around the corner. The tank was made of glass, likely from the fifties or sixties. The whole station was outdated like that, a time capsule. Maybe that was why Graham had so many paper files. The budget didn’t have room for a computer made after 1983.

Mrs. Gold took quiet sips out of a paper cup. Her face was splotchy from emotion and booze. Mascara had smeared all over her red-rimmed eyes. She was staring into the middle distance, swaying like she was about to tip over.

“Hey, now that you’re inside, you should take off those heels.”

It seemed to take Mrs. Gold a minute to register what Emma had said. Slowly, she nodded and stepped out of her shoes. Now she looked even smaller, even younger, even more vulnerable.

Everyone she’d talked to about Mrs. Gold acted like she was worse than her husband. That she was loud and lewd--shocking in how boldly she flaunted their sex life, whether people wanted to hear about it or not. Emma had gotten the impression that she was some kind of accomplice, an equal partner in a two-person reign of terror.��

But that wasn’t what she saw in front of her. True, appearances could be deceiving. But if Emma had to guess which version of Mrs. Gold was an act, she’d put her money on it being the heartless, hypersexed, trophy wife. Not the pathetic lightweight shaking like a leaf the middle of in a police station.

She had to get to the bottom of this.

“How are you holding up?”

Mrs. Gold took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Been better,” she croaked out after a minute. “Been worse, too.”

“Scale of one to ten where one is the best and ten is the worst?”

“Eight,” she said after thinking about it. “Maybe nine.”

“What’s a ten?” Emma asked, genuinely curious. If getting so drunk she fought with her husband in public and got the attention of the cops and then threw up in front of a total stranger wasn’t the worst night of Mrs. Gold’s life, then what was?

But Mrs. Gold just shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah,” Emma backed off. As much as she wanted to get the full story on this woman, there were more important things to deal with right now. “Let’s get back to my office.”

Gold was standing by one of the desks in the bullpen, reading the paperwork some idiot officer had left out in the open. When they came in, he opened his mouth to speak, but Emma hurried Mrs. Gold into the office and shut the door.

“Do you want me to make him go away?” she said before she sat down.

“How?” Mrs. Gold’s voice was thick. “No one can make Mr. Gold do anything. He can do whatever he wants.”

“Can’t be that hard. I’ll just kick him the knee.”

To her surprise, Mrs. Gold snorted at the joke. “Ankle,” she corrected. “It’s his ankle that gives him trouble.”

“Good to know, next time we get in a fistfight.” She looked Mrs. Gold in the eye. “But seriously. Would you feel more comfortable if he was somewhere else?”

Mrs. Gold shook her head. “I’d only feel more comfortable if I was somewhere else.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach and sank into the chair across from the desk.

Opening a drawer in the desk, Emma pulled out a box of Kleenex. She also grabbed some of the protein bars she stored in the office for lunches. And, out of the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, she got the big stuffed Officer Teddy that they gave to kids when they were in crisis. Mrs. Gold was not a kid, but by God she looked like she needed a teddy bear.

Emma set everything on the chair beside Mrs. Gold. She didn’t take anything but a tissue.

“Do you mind talking about what happened tonight?”

“I should get a lawyer,” Mrs. Gold whispered. Then she cracked a miserable smile. “But Mr. Gold is my lawyer!” She pressed the Kleenex to her eyes and sobbed.

“Hey,” Emma tried her best soft voice. “It’s okay, Mrs.-- Hang on, what’s your first name?”

Mrs. Gold looked up, suddenly suspicious. “Am I under arrest?”

“No,” Emma said quickly. “It’s just weird to say ‘Mrs. Gold’ all the time, like you’re my third-grade math teacher.”

“Well, get used to it, Miss Swan.” She sniffed and straightened up. “I work damn hard to be Mrs. Gold, and I’m not going to be called anything else.”

Walking behind Graham’s desk--her desk--Emma leaned back in the rolling chair. “Is it always work? Being married to him, I mean.”

“Didn’t used to be,” she said quietly. “It was always a challenge, but it used to be fun, you know?”

“Not really,” Emma admitted. “I’m not big on commitment.”

“He used to be wonderful.” There was a misty light in her eyes now. “Especially when I was good, when he was happy with me. He could be so inventive and dedicated.” She sighed. “Mr. Gold could do things to me I didn’t even know I wanted.”

“But only when you were good?”

The rumor mill had plenty of stories of Mrs. Gold proudly walking around town with bruises and burns. Apparently no Valentine’s Day was complete without her stocking up on rope and duct tape. Was that for when she was good or when she was bad?

Mrs. Gold shrugged and looked away. “I don’t expect you to understand how Mr. Gold and I are together.”

“I understand BDSM,” Emma said evenly.

Mrs. Gold looked at her, with a blank confusion that didn’t come just from being drunk. She didn’t say anything, so Emma went on.

“That’s what it is, right? Sado-masochism? Dominance and submission? Bondage?”

A blink. “What?”

Emma put her feet up on the desk, trying to look cooler than she felt. It was weird to talk about this stuff in an otherwise normal environment while she was on the clock. But apparently the Golds got a thrill out of shocking vanilla people. So she’d better not act shocked.

“Not everybody’s from Storybrooke, Mrs. Gold.”

She slumped forward. “I didn’t realize there was a name for it. Do a lot of other people do this stuff?”

Emma’s attempt not to be shocked didn’t last long. She sat up in the chair, took her feet off the desk. “You didn’t know? Wait, are you two not a part of a community?”

“What do you mean?”

Yeah, that made sense. Gold was one of those doms. Self-titled, self-taught, probably got kicked out of any reasonable BDSM group he tried to get into. Predatory. His current wife was young, maybe curious about kink, and he’d been oh-so-happy to be the only teacher she had. He’d trained her to trust him, to rely on him completely, so he could abuse her any sick way he wanted to. He probably told her it was all okay because they were kinky. That living in fear was what the lifestyle was all about.

Son of a bitch.

Mrs. Gold looked over her shoulder through the windows that looked out at the bullpen. Gold was still standing there, leaning on his cane. Waiting.

Emma clenched her jaw. “There’s… a lot… I want to talk to you about, Mrs. Gold. But right now the most important thing is making sure you’re safe.”

She shook her head. “I’m safe.”

“Earlier you said you didn’t want to go home with him.”

“I was drunk,” she shrugged. “I was upset. I made Mr. Gold angry and I was afraid to face the consequences.”

“Are you afraid of him a lot?”

“No-o.” Mrs. Gold looked down at the tissue in her hands. “Not a lot.”

Emma pressed in. “When was the last time you were afraid of your husband?”

Defiance flashed in her eyes, but then disappeared. Mrs. Gold hung her head. “Last night,” she whispered. “I did something really bad and I thought he was going to hurt me. Like, really hurt me, you know?”

“More than just a spanking, huh?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “But he didn’t! That has to count for something, right?”

Emma closed her eyes so Mrs. Gold couldn’t see her rolling them. “Maybe something, but not much.” She took a deep breath. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and I want you to think for a second before you answer it: Do you think your husband respects you?”

“No, of course not.” Apparently she didn’t need to think about it. “I’m just a stupid whore, Sheriff. Why would Mr. Gold respect a trashy slut like me?”

“Because you’re a person!” Emma shouted and Mrs. Gold winced. From the other side of the glass, Gold looked up.

She balled her fists, trying to keep her anger from getting the better of her. Emma liked action. If there was a problem, she wanted to do something about it. If the thing to do involved punching a violent predator, then that was even better.

But she couldn’t do that now. Cursing Gold out about the meaning of the words “safe, sane and consensual” would make Emma feel better, but it wouldn’t help Mrs. Gold. Right now, the most important thing was giving this girl the mental tools to protect herself. Or at least let her know that she was in danger.

“Mrs. Gold,” Emma said after a minute. “It’s important to me that you understand some things. I don’t know what your husband may have told you, but I want you to trust that I’m telling you the truth. Can you do that? Can you trust me?”

Mrs. Gold swallowed. “What are you going to tell me?”

“Just that… you and your husband are not the only people in the world who like doing stuff that other people might think of as unconventional. There are a lot of people who like, say, mixing pain and sex. Or pretending to be roles that they aren’t.” She hesitated before she admitted something personal: “I was with a guy who told me he never felt safer than when he tied himself up with rope.”

It had meant a lot to Emma, the first time he’d asked her to tie his hands behind his back. He’d told her he trusted her, and she had trusted him--right until it had all fallen apart.

“Are you serious?” Mrs. Gold’s brow was furrowed. “There are other people like us?”

“Yep,” Emma nodded. “More than most people think. In fact, there are enough people like this that they can get together and talk about it. They talk about this stuff so much that there are rules that a lot of these people agree on.”

“What kind of rules?”

For a second, Emma didn’t know where to start. As much as she was talking, her real experiences with kinksters was very limited. Even in the best circumstances, she wasn’t one for clubs or social groups. Nothing with the promise of a community or lasting relationships--that wasn’t her style. One-on-one was better. Emma liked semi-anonymous one night stands. No strings, just rope.

But that wasn’t what most people wanted, and it definitely wasn’t what Mrs. Gold needed.

“Consent is a pretty big rule for most communities. Making sure that a person isn’t put in a situation they didn’t agree to. So communication is important too. The person being done to has to say what they want and the person doing the thing has to say what they’re planning on doing--and they both have to agree. Am I making sense so far?”

“So it’s like a deal?”

“Yep,” Emma said, glad that something was clicking with Mrs. Gold. “Negotiation is a big part of it.”

“I already made my deal with Mr. Gold.”

“Well, it’s not something you only talk about once.” She lowered her voice. “Does your husband talk to you before you do a scene?”

“A ‘scene’?”

No surprise that Mrs. Gold didn’t know even basic vocabulary.

“Yeah, before sex or play or punishment--whatever it is you do when he has power over you.”

“Mr. Gold always has power over me. He can fuck me whenever he wants to. That’s the deal.”

Emma frowned. “Does he get to hurt you whenever he wants to?”

“He can,” Mrs. Gold admitted with perfect calm. “He can do anything to me, or make me do anything. And that’s consensual. I agreed to it when I married him.”

“Does it ever stop? Do you ever have, like, a time out? A rest period? Or are you guys always… in that zone?”

Mrs. Gold looked away. There hadn’t been a trace of embarrassment during the rest of the conversation, but now she looked ashamed.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s… It’s been a while since we’ve actually done anything.”

Interesting. “And whose decision was that?”

“Oh, Mr Gold’s. I’ve offered tons of times, but he hasn’t touched me in months.”

“So he decides when you don’t have sex as well as when you do?”

“I guess.”

“Was that a part of your deal?”

She shifted in her seat. “I never thought it was a possibility that he wouldn’t want to do things to me.”

“But you really like it? You think he’s a good partner?”

Mrs. Gold’s blue eyes looked up at Emma. Every fiber of her being radiated sincerity. “The best.”

“Wanna tell me how you feel about not having sex for months?”

She looked away. “I hate it.”

“Have you told him that?”

“No!” she almost laughed. “I was starting to tonight, but it didn’t work out for me.”

Emma didn’t laugh. She rested her arms on the desk and leaned in to look Mrs. Gold in the eye. “Listen, I’m not a marriage counselor. I’m not an expert in kink. I’m a sheriff. There is clearly a lot broken with your relationship, but I’m not going to be able to solve any of it. No one will be able to fix you guys unless you’re both willing to admit that there’s a problem and work towards a solution.”

Mrs. Gold looked down. “We never had problems before.”

“No, you did. But it sounds like Gold was really good at making you think they weren’t problems. Point is, there’s only so much I can do from a law-enforcement standpoint. I can arrest your husband--but only if you’re willing to press charges and make a statement about any past mistreatment.”

“Wait, who said anything about arresting Mr. Gold?”

“I’m just trying to think of a way to keep you safe. It’s my opinion that the easiest way to do that right now is to keep you separated from your husband. Now, you said you don’t have anyone you can stay with. If you want, I can pay for you to get a room at Granny’s.”

“I don’t need your fucking charity!” Mrs. Gold spat out the last word.

“Okay,” Emma went on. “My other option is to keep you here in the station overnight. You admitted to being drunk, I can give you a safe place to dry out.”

“But you also want to make up some charge to put Mr. Gold in jail?” Her voice rose as she spoke. “That’s ridiculous! If those are the choices, then yes, by all fucking means, arrest me instead of him!”

This was wrong. Emma knew that it was wrong. Putting Mrs. Gold in the holding cell would be a completely a bass-ackward perversion of justice.

But she was damned if she could think of a single other way to fix this.

If Mrs. Gold insisted on blaming herself, if she wasn’t going to press charges against her husband, if she didn’t even see that she was being abused--then nothing Emma did or said would change her mind. If Emma forced the issue, then she would be telling Mrs. Gold what to do instead of letting her actually make a choice. And if Mrs. Gold was ever going to be able to break out of her situation, it had to be her choice.

“Do you wanna put me in handcuffs? It wouldn’t be the first time!”

The transformation was so fast Emma almost didn’t recognize that it was the same person speaking. So this was the version of Mrs. Gold that everyone had a story about. The version of Mrs. Gold that was in Graham’s file. Sparkling voice, chipper smile. She was even posed with her legs splayed open like a pin-up model.

Emma sighed.

“It doesn’t have to be this way. Remember that. You don’t have to throw yourself under the bus for him. And you don’t have to do things you don’t want to do.”

“It’s really cute that you think that, Sheriff!” Mrs Gold stood up and stepped back into her shoes. She dropped the crumpled Kleenex on the floor and kicked it out of the way with her shiny black heels.

She didn’t stagger or wobble as she opened the door to the office, but she did stop in her tracks when she saw Gold. Emma was close enough that she could hear her swallow.

Taking a strange kind of mercy on the girl, Emma pushed in front of her to talk to Gold herself.

“I’m keeping Mrs. Gold in the holding cell overnight, just until her blood alcohol level goes down a bit.”

“That’s not going to happen, Sheriff.”

He didn’t move any closer, he didn’t try to reach for Mrs. Gold. He stood very still, with both hands on his cane in front of him. Emma narrowed her eyes.

“Are you going to try to stop me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said smoothly. “But I couldn’t help overhearing the end of your conversation. Mrs. Gold offered to have herself put under arrest. Allow me to make a counter-offer.”

“She doesn’t want to go home with you.”

“I know,” he said. “So my offer is that I stay in the station tonight.” He looked over his shoulder at the jail cell behind him. “Assuming, of course, that you make sure Mrs. Gold gets back safely to the house.”

This was ridiculous. Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you confessing to a crime, Gold?”

“Quite the opposite.” Bastard had the audacity to grin. “I’m hoping this act will prove my innocence.”

Emma clenched her jaw. He was full of shit, but how could she prove it? Gold was giving her exactly what she wanted. There had to be a catch.

“Is this your favor?” she asked. “Are you calling in what I owe you for Ashley’s baby?”

He gave a little shake of the head. “What this is, Miss Swan, is the right thing to do.”

“Why?” Mrs. Gold’s voice pierced through the quiet station. When Emma turned around, she saw she was crying again. “Why would you do this for me?”

Gold’s expression softened. To Emma’s surprise, she actually believed that he was capable of feeling sorry. Either he was very good, or there was more to him than she’d thought.

“Like I said, Mrs. Gold, it’s the right thing to do.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. He set them on the nearest desk. “You didn’t bring your purse to dinner. You’ll need a key to get back in the house.”

Mrs. Gold just stood there, confused and stunned. Emma stepped forward to take the keys and give them to Mrs. Gold.

“I’ll drop you off,” she told her. “It looks like the car key is on here, but you’re still in no state to drive.”

Nodding slowly, Mrs. Gold looked at the keys in her hand. Then she looked up at her husband. “I’ll give these back to you tomorrow.”

“That’s fine,” he agreed. He shifted his gaze to Emma and smirked. “Assuming I’ll be a free man tomorrow?”

Emma rolled her eyes and began to usher Gold backwards to the cell. “Since I’m not actually booking you for anything, sure.” Once he was inside, she shut the door. “I swear, if this whole thing has been some kind of kinky game--”

“It’s not, Sheriff,” Gold said calmly. “The wellbeing of my wife is the most serious matter in the world.”

“Uh-huh.” Emma locked him in. “You’re gonna have to work harder on that.”

#golden rings #rumbelle fic #rumbelle fanfiction #rumbelle

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surrealsunday · 4 years

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Hey remember i said i was gonna re-read mood tattoo knowing the full story and see how it feels. Well surprise i am. 😄 i'm reading chapter 1 and need some writers notes. 🗒 so the club scene still confuses me; Eliott senses Lucas wasn't happy when he stormed off over Anna being all into Eliott. Eliott follows and catches Moreau with Lucas. Lucas runs after Eliott and begins "thank you" then crap hits the fan 💥 what the hell was going on? Lucas wipes his mouth so there was a kiss? 🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️

🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️ Moreau was at the club (stalking) Or did Lucas meet him? Was Lucas pretending to be into Moreau, hence the kiss? Or was Moreau molesting helpless Lucas? Did Eliott really see what we think he saw or is he an unreliable narrator? I'm gonna have more questions so i hope i don't annoy. I just love your insight 👉👈but that club scene fascinates me and not just Moreau. Be back.🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️

🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️ hi 😊 ok 1 thing i love early on here (Ch1) is how self aware Eliott is. And i think that is very true to canon Eliott too. I mean POLARIS is full of self reflection considering it's about Eliott's deeply rooted fears/insecurities connected to his mental illness. Eliott is very aware of what he's doing (self sabotage/stagnancy). He may be flighty and run but he knows what he's running from.👏👑 And here Eliott acknowledges what's really bothering him. He's jealous.🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️

🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️ and ouch "Everything i've achieved is my own, whatever step up you think you have, it won't matter, it won't make you better" and knowing that Lucas got that help in medical school. It's reminiscent of Lucas carelessly generalising mental illness in S3 to Eliott. And it hurts.🔪 because it came from Eliott's jealousy (he rejects me and yet doctor Moreau is ok) i'm torn here because Lucas is really hard to like the way he comes off as so defensive and insecure with Eliott but🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️

🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️ Eliott is an absolute dumbass for how he acts here. Like i get it, we'd probably misconstrue the situation too but i wanna throttle them both at different times in the club. 😠 Lucas the most though as he takes everything Eliott says and twists it. Eliott wants him and is flirting = "oh so you think cause i'm gay you can have me?" I mean wtf Lucas. And then with the bartender "oh so you're offering your cast offs?" He's looking for a fight and fixated on Eliott's looks. Poor Eli 🤸‍♀️

🤸‍♀️ and at the same time it's obvious he's so damn jealous of Anna. What the hell is Eliott thinking? It's like whiplash with Lucas 😄 i did love the tension that you created when they were at the table before bas soaked Lucas's pants. 🍻 that heat and total awareness of being in each others periphery. I mean Lucas there as Eliott is blatantly staring giving zero f's 🤗 but that's true to canon with Elu too. 👏 i got shivers at Eliott's blantant desire for Lucas. You are damn good. 👑 🤸‍♀️

🤸‍♀️ and the way he was cataloguing him. And then Lucas locks eyes with him? I need to know what's going through Lucas's mind there? Also something i only picked up on re-reading; Eliott being playful with Idriss at the hospital desk and then realising Lucas was waiting for him further down leaning on the wall. Meaning Lucas saw all that and Lucas is having an Anna situation right? 😤 but Eliott thinks that Lucas is annoyed at having to be held up. Does Lucas think Eliott is a f boi? 🤸‍♀️

🤸‍♀️ onto supporting characters. Ok 1 of the things i love about your fics is how engaging everyone is. Sometimes it's like skim skim skim to get to Elu interacting but here the laughing, dumbassery and fun reading this world is 🙌 i loved them meeting at the club and bantering. Emma is goals and Idriss is 👑 the various relationships are entertaining and i love Eliott/Idriss broship. I love Mika and Lucas's vibe "f off Mika" "ok kitten" 😅 and i even love anna too. You = 🏆 🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️

🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️ ok last one. I'm sorry. This is what happens when i lurk. 😥 i spew my thoughts at you. 🗣 i have to talk about the unique immersion with the social media. Your choices are 👏 i mean Lucas and Bas looking like they're at the coat check of a club. Bas 🥵 for Eliott in the club with Maxence model eye f-king the camera. Sexy Anna. I laugh, have eye candy (surgeon Eliott hello 🥰) but it deepens the story. All fics should now have social media. It is law. ⚖ ok CH2 here i come 🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️

Heyyyyy!!! I’m sorry it took me a while to get back to you. I had to be in the right mind frame to talk Mood Tattoo and apparently my brain needed a bit of a break in the end lol.

You’ve read the full story right - like the final chapters? Just don’t want to spoil anything. But you said re-read, so I’m assuming you’ve read the final chapters! Spoilers ahead of course!

So as for the club scene and what exactly happened. Lucas explains this in chapter 10. Basically Moreau is there drinking with other surgeons, sees Lucas and follows him to the bathroom. Moreau is drunk and being super handsy and Lucas is just desperate for no one to see them together which is why he pulls him into the private room. Eliott is indeed a bit of an unreliable narrator - but not so much as him completely seeing something that didn’t happen. He sees Moreau having pressed Lucas up against the wall and kissing him. That happened - it just wasn’t quite as passionate and ‘lovers-esque’ as Eliott sees it. Lucas mentions at the end of the story that he doesn’t really know why he couldn’t push Moreau away. This was my way of acknowledging the complexity of being a victim in an ongoing situation like Moreau and Lucas’s (where Lucas had been groomed as a child). It’s not always going to be as simple as Lucas being able to say no and forcefully push Moreau away. At that point in the story especially, Lucas is very much still under a certain level of control by Moreau. He wants to break from it but he hasn’t totally been able to do so yet. Lucas says ‘thank you’ because Eliott provides the interruption and distraction that is enough for Lucas to have an excuse to get away - again because he struggles a lot with how to handle the situation and be assertive/ say no (none of that making him any less of a victim though).

I agree about Eliott too. He does react ‘from the gut’ quite a bit in canon too, but he always seemed to have those moments of self-actualization and reflection. I liked showing a bit of the back and forth between him acting one way, even as he’s very aware of why he’s doing so and that it’s not the best move.

I so agree with your feelings about Eliott and Lucas in the bar scenes. Eliott is absolutely horrible with he catches Lucas and Moreau, but I was committed to showing both of them not necessarily at their best that night. Lucas is angry - at himself - and desperately looking for reasons not to like Eliott (to make rejected him easier). Ironically you have Lucas doing so by verbally stating all sorts of unflattering assumptions about Eliott - when really Lucas doesn’t believe any of them for a moment. Then you have Eliott making a very big assumption about Lucas at the end - and Eliott does believe it. It’s messy messy messy.

When Eliott is just staring at Lucas at the table - that is definitely what Lucas refers to later in the final chapters when he says ‘the way you were looking at me, I don’t even think you realized’ and Eliott is like ‘oh I realized’. Lucas definitely gets that Eliott wants him, but the intensity that comes with Eliott just being... Eliott... is for sure something Lucas wasn’t prepared for. And no matter how hard he was telling himself ‘this isn’t happening, you’re not fucking things up by hooking up with this guy’ it was still very hard for him not to return the look when Eliott’s eyes were on him.

Lucas doesn’t so much think Eliott is a fuck boy (or actually messing around with Idriss). He just thinks Eliott sleeps with a lot of different people and doesn’t take any of it all that seriously. Lucas’s jealous little spasm over Idriss (lol) was really just a gut reaction he couldn’t control hehe.

And thank you so much! I honestly am thrilled when readers say they like all the little extra scenes and tidbits with other characters too. I never really know what those dynamics will be like until I write and it’s always a wonderful surprise for me too. And I’m such a visual person that adding in the social media is just as much fun for me! I love knowing what they look like in certain scenes and getting to share that with all of you!

Thank you so very much for sending your thoughts! This was too much fun to read and answer. 💕💕💕💕💕

#mood tattoo fic #mood tattoo chapter 1 #long post

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drowning-in-dennor · 5 years

Text

Answers

The gang's all here to answer your burning questions! Whether it’s the Oxenstiernas or the Wangs, or your favourite couples, they’re ready to face whatever inquiries you might have! [Written to celebrate two hundred and fifty followers.]

Question One: Literally anything about Bogden please uwu

Bogden: ...this isn’t really a question.

[Aleksander claps Bogden on the shoulder.]

Aleksander: Oh, whatever, just be glad we’re getting attention!

Bogden: Well, okay, but this is pretty weird. I mean, do they want to hear about my personal life, or my relationships, or -

[Aleksander muffles Bogden’s mouth with his hand.]

Aleksander: HIS MIDDLE NAME IS BORIS AND HIS BIRTHDAY IS THE THIRD OF MARCH ALSO HE REALLY LIKES YOGHURT AND HE REALLY LIKES ROSES AND ROSE-FLAVOURED STUFF OH AND HE HAS A PET BUNNY, IS THAT ENOUGH INFO?

Question Two: So what does the butter boy love doing the most with Henrik?

Stellan: I assume I’m ‘the butter boy’.

Henrik, sarcastically: Oh, no, I’m sure it’s Harald, or anyone but the one who stress-baked six hundred butter cookies after a final one day and mailed them to every person in the city!

[Stellan kicks Henrik under the table.]

Stellan: Well, to answer your question, I just love it when we cuddle while watching the sunset. We’re usually sitting outside, in this rocking swing we have in our front yard, watching the sky get painted all these pretty colours. It’s the most amazing feeling in the world to be able to see something so lovely with the person you care for the most.

[Henrik turns red.]

Henrik: Y-Yeah, those are really happy times. Holy fuck, I love you so much.

Question Three: What does Berwald like doing with Henrik?

Berwald: Fighting.

Henrik: Sometimes we just crack open a beer and talk about our husbands because we’re both awesomely lucky men. Then Stell has to pick me up the next morning while I’m hungover.

Berwald: Or we design some furniture together.

Henrik: We used to assemble IKEA stuff together until that time I screwed the legs of a chair on wrong and accidentally created a monster.

Question Four: Harald, how do you feel about Henrik and Stellan’s relationship?

Harald: When they got together all those years ago, I was too young to remember much, but when I got older and they got sappier, it was pretty annoying. Like, I’d be having breakfast, and they’d be across the table cuddling or something.

Stellan: Were we that bad?

[Harald crosses his arms.]

Harald: Yes, you were that bad. When you started high school it got even more annoying, because you two would be fucking like rabbits while poor me was right next door.

Henrik: Oh, yeah! We were pretty loud, huh?

Harald: Now, though, they have their own house, so I don’t really care. I get a cool brother-in-law, and Stell has a husband. Works out for both of us.

Question Five, from @kyrakira: What wouwd Stewwan wike mowwe? a pwug ow a couch owo?

[Stellan falls off his chair.]

[Henrik slams his fist on the table and bursts into laughter.]

Stellan, climbing back onto his chair: First of all, I hate how I understand what you’re saying. Second of all, I’d say the plug.

Henrik: HOLY -

Stellan: Fucking a piece of furniture is not as pleasant as it sounds, kids. Don’t try it at home.

Question Six: To Agata: sweet mother, I cannot focus; slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl, how not die?

Agata: Nothing you can do about it. You will look at your pretty girl, and you will have an internal heart attack.

[Tille giggles.]

Agata: You know how I met Tille? I was riding my bike, I saw her. She was pretty. I hit her with my bike.

Tille: You cried, you big kitty cat.

Agata: Yes, I cried. I was overwhelmed by your beauty.

Tille: Aww.

Agata: So, you see a pretty girl, you’re helpless to her charms. Too bad. I can’t help.

Question Seven: How close and warm are y'all nordicks? óuò

Henrik: ...I assume that means us?

[Harald cringes.]

Harald: What the hell is that cursed emoji?

Berwald: You mean emoticon.

Harald: Whatever.

Tino: To answer your question, we go over to each others’ houses for dinner every Friday! Sometimes we do it with Leon’s family, too.

Henrik: It’s really awesome! But when Stellan gets a little too competitive with Vicente, things can get, er, messy.

[Stellan throws up his hands.]

Stellan: The egg tart situation was one time, Henrik! ONE TIME!

Question Eight: To any of you, when was the last time you cried in front of a lot of people?

Antonio: Gilbert made a face at me in the middle of a presentation, and I laughed so hard I cried.

Ludwig: Pochi...

[Ludwig buries his face in his hands.]

Ludwig: Pochi just tottered up to me and jumped in my lap. It was adorable.

Kiku: Then I cried because Pochi betrayed me for him.

Feliciano: Then I cried because Tama scratched me. I still have the scar.

Question Nine: Harald, out of everyone in your family, who's death would you find most disturbing and why?

[Harald’s eyes widen.]

Harald: Why would you ask something like that? What on earth is wrong with you? Any of their deaths would be disturbing, by the way. I don’t think I could ever bear to see any of them die before me.

[He sniffles and reaches in his pocket for a tissue.]

[Henrik jumps, scowling darkly.]

Henrik: Okay, who made Harald cry?

Harald: Wait —

[Stellan joins Henrik and raises a fist.]

Stellan: They’ll have hell to pay for this.

Harald: ...I love you guys.

Question Ten: Henrik and Stellan, how are your relationships with your parents?

Henrik: Oh, we get along just fine! They were a little shocked when I brought Stellan home for the first time, but not any more.

Stellan: Between Henrik and Leon, mine have, well, resigned themselves to the fact that they most likely will not have biological grandchildren.

Henrik: We’re not sure if we’re gonna adopt just yet, but if we do, I’m sure our folks would be thrilled!

Question Eleven: To Al, Matt, Arthur, Francis, Ivan and Yao, what are your favorite memories about school?

Yao: Well, it has to be every prize-presentation ceremony at the end of each year. I went on stage every time!

Alfred: Yo, stop flexing, we know you’re a genius already.

[Arthur smiles, clearly lost in his memories.]

Arthur: My time at the school’s literature club was truly unforgettable. I was the president, if you must know, and I finally got an excuse to hide in the library all the time and read.

[Francis laughs.]

Francis: Ah, surely I thought your dearest memory would be of that one time you thought you were carrying around a copy of Pride and Prejudice, but was in reality holding a very saucy volume of Victorian er —

Arthur: HEY, ALFRED! You never told us about your favourite memory!

[Alfred jumps, accidentally smacking Yao on the shoulder. Yao gives him a withering glare.]

Alfred: Oh, yeah. It’s got to be when the soccer team won the last game of the semester, in my senior year! Dang, just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes.

Matthew: And speaking of competitions, when I got first place in the school’s public speaking competition in grade seven, I completely lost it.

Alfred: You screamed, then hugged me so tightly I saw spots afterwards.

Matthew: I’ll never forget how it felt to win something for the first time.

Francis: My time with Yao in our school’s cooking club was magnificent. Yao, my friend, do you remember the mooncake project?

[Yao perks up.]

Yao: Yes, when we experimented to see how to make mooncakes less oily? That was fun. I still use that recipe to make mooncakes now.

Matthew: Hey Ivan, you haven’t talked yet. What’s your favourite memory?

Ivan: My favourite memory? Let me think, now...

[Ivan taps his chin.]

Ivan: Meeting you all at the very start of the year, that was amazing.

Alfred: Oh, you big teddy bear!

Arthur: We love you too.

[The six of them collapse in a group hug. The sound of chairs falling fills the room.]

Question Twelve: Out of everyone, who was a dropout and who finished college?

Alfred: I, uh, never went to college. Just decided to go “fuck the system” and started a food cart that I still wheel around the States. If you wanna see me, look for Stars and Stripes!

Matthew: Like Francis, I survived culinary school, but unlike Francis, I only got a degree in the pastry arts.

[Francis rubs his temples.]

Francis: None of you have ever experienced pain until you’ve been through egg day. Nine hundred eggs, all gone to waste because the Chef thought they were bad!

Arthur: I got my degree in English literature at Oxford, and to this day I’m still surprised that I managed to get in.

Yao: I have a degree in medicine, but it’s pretty useless since I run my diner now. By the way, check out Wang’s if you have the time!

[Ivan rubs the back of his head sheepishly.]

Ivan: I got arrested in the middle of college. Now, I just help my sister run her store!

Feliciano: Kiku and I both went to art school! I went to culinary school with Francis after that, though.

Kiku: My student loans haunt me to this day.

Ludwig: It surprises a lot of people, but I dropped out of college while Gilbert’s the one with the degree.

Henrik: I went to a super-obscure course, namely the textile arts. Most people don’t even know it’s a degree!

Stellan: I got a degree in creative writing at John Hopkins in the US.

Berwald: Went to trade school.

Tino: I don’t really remember much about college. I just remember a lot of coffee, screaming and complaining.

Question Thirteen: What do you love most about yourself, Henrik, Berwald and Stellan? uwu

Stellan: The next person to use “uwu” will have their spleens removed.

Berwald: Very threatening.

Henrik: Well, what I wuv mowost abowouwut mwysewelf is howow I’m able to awways pwiss owoff my bowoyfewnd!

Berwald: What.

[Stellan gets up.]

Stellan: I love you, but say “uwu” again and you’re sleeping on the couch.

Henrik: Why, uwu?

Stellan: OH, THAT’S IT —

[Henrik flees from Stellan.]

Berwald: I love that I married a sane person.

Question Fourteen: Why do you like your best friend, Tino? 3:

Tino: Oh you mean Ed? Well, we’ve been friends since forever, first of all, and we’ve stuck together no matter what! He’s helped me with homework and bullies and all that stuff since we were kids, and I’ve done the same. Best of all, he encouraged me to ask Berwald out, and thanks to him I now have an awesome husband!

[Nearby, Eduard is sobbing.]

Eduard: I love you too!

Question Fifteen: If a=b, multiply by a to get a²=ab, subtract b² to get a²-b²=ab-b², factor them (a+b)(a-b)=b(a-b), cancel a-b, and since a=b the equation is now 2b=b or 2=1; why does math exist? @the Wangs

Leon: ...what?

Vicente: I think I lost half my brain cells just by reading that.

Ling: This is bringing back trauma from school, and that question doesn’t even make sense.

Yao: I’m too old for this crap.

Leon: But to answer your question, math exists because once upon a time some asshole decided to invent numbers and make our lives difficult.

Ling: Seconded.

Vicente: Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re off to make dinner.

Question Sixteen: Stellan, what's the most difficult decision you've had to make to see your dreams come true?

Stellan: Ohhh, that’s a hard one. I’ve had to make a lot of sacrifices to become the person I am today. But if I had to pick, it’d be picking John Hopkins over Oslo Uni, and leaving Harald and Henrik behind. It was worth it, though, since now I’m happy and successful and I can’t have asked for more.

Harald: Aww, I love you too, you bastard.

Question Seventeen: Which family does Peter belong to?

Arthur: He lives with the Oxenstiernas, which is fine with both of us.

Tino: Artie couldn’t handle Peter after his parents passed, so it started out with Ber just babysitting him. But after the two of us got married, Arthur decided to put Peter up for adoption so he could become our son!

Niklas: It was a great decision.

Berwald: What?

Niklas: I mean, it was a terrible decision because now I’m stuck with an awesome — er, annoying — brother for the rest of my life.

Question Eighteen: What do you think is the best thing about your personality, Berwald?

Berwald: Uh...

[He stares off into the distance.]

Berwald: Uhhh...

Tino: Well, I love how everyone’s so intimidated by you, but you’re so snuggly and sweet in reality!

[Berwald appears to stop breathing.]

Berwald: Thanks.

Question Nineteen: To Alfred, Gilbert and Henrik: what’s the dumbest yet smartest thing you’ve ever done?

Alfred: Dang, that’s a hard one. I’d say the time we threw a dictionary out of the car window, just because.

Gilbert: No, the time we put a block of frozen maple syrup into Matt’s showerhead. But then we got yelled at, so maybe not.

Henrik: How about when we tried to brûlée salt and set off the fire alarm?

[The three of them consider.]

Gilbert: Yoo, what about the frying pan thing?

Henrik: Oh, riiiiight, the frying pan thing!

Alfred: So basically, we put a frying pan on the heart for too long and it melted. Then it turned out that the frying pan was made with unsafe material! That’s kinda smart, I guess.

Question Twenty: Which one of you (anyone ig) has a choking fetish?

[The entire room erupts into chaos.]

Harald: OH MY GOODNESS!

Leon: Who the hell asked this!?

Alfred: You know what? Y’all need Jesus.

[Someone hits the camera and it switches off.]

...

A/N: Yes I know I’m very unfunny but I hope this was at least the tiniest bit fun to read

#i'm not going to fucking tag this #aph fanfiction #my writing

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