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munsonownsmyass · 1 year

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Lily my love!

How about Dipping in a natural hot spring with Matthias Helvar?

Can be spicy, soft, or both! Dealer's choice!

Matthias Helvar x reader

Summary: Taken prisoner by the Drüskelle, you find yourself in the cold, unforgiving land of Fjerda. Freezing and fearing for your life, an unlikely savior comes to your rescue.

Author's notes: Thank you so much for this ask, Pheebs! I'm glad I've made you simp as much as I do for this man ❤️

Also... Lava in Fjerda works different. That's all I'll say about that.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers big time. Angst, mentioning of killing someone, pining? Maybe? SMUT! 18+. Grinding, handjob, unprotected sex, cream pie (you know me by now), kissing, fluff.

The weather had turned colder faster than you expected. Even with the many layers, you could feel the cold seeps though your flesh, freezing you to the bone. You weren’t used to the cold, far from it, but as a prisoner of the Drüskelle, you had been taken far into the icy lands of Fjerda.

The last few days have been on the move with barely any sleep or food and especially without much warmth. The Fjerdan men in front of you keeps pushing on, used to this harsh weather, born from the cold. You could hear the men snickering around you, having a laugh on your expense. They know you’re freezing, but they don’t care. Your life means little to them.

Except for maybe the youngest of the Drüskelle. Matthias. He’s barely said a word to you, yet he is the one of them you trust the most. The other men had eyed you in ways that made you uncomfortable, but not Matthias. He seemed protective over you, even though he didn’t hide the fact that he hated what you are.

Being a Grisha was never good in Fjerdan territory, let alone in the hands of the Drüskelle. They had orders not to harm you, but the only one who seemed to heed those words were Matthias. Still now, you hear them mutter silently between each other, words like drüsje and mörd spoken with clenched teeth. You don’t speak Fjerdan, but you do know those words. Witch and death.

As the winds pick up, the men make camp in a small forest, the trees providing some cover from the storm. Used to the harsh environment, the men settle down and doesn’t seem faced by anything, making you feel worse as your teeth clatter so hard you fear they will take permanent damage. One of the oldest, the leader, yells at you harshly in Fjerdan.

“I already told you, I don’t understand what you’re saying!” you bite back, no longer caring if they kill you. Then at least you’d no longer be freezing. He stands up, walking over to you as he draws his knife from its sheath.

“Scön der top.” He mutters under his breath, stopping a mere inch from your face. “I said; If you don’t stop the clattering, I’ll remove your teeth to keep you quiet.”

Matthias cuts in between, putting a hand to the leaders chest. Their discussion sounds heated, the leader’s eyes darting to you more than once. For the first time you really fear for your life. Matthias gets to his feet and pulls you with him.

“Go then! And take the drüsje whore with you!” The old man spits out, before turning away from you and Matthias. He pulls you away from the group quickly and leads you further into the woods. Trembling, you fear what he’s gonna do. Is this it? Was he ordered to take you into the woods and dispose of you?

“Are you gonna kill me?” You try, voice weak and barely above a whisper. He stops, his grip on your arm loosening as he turns to you, eyes softer than you expected.

“No. I was saving you.” He looks at you for a moment, before walking again, but this time the grip on your arm is softer. “He was ready to kill you, but we need you alive to get our money.”

For some reasons, your heart sinks in your chest, making you feel hollow. Did you expect him to save you because he cared? Stupid girl. No, of course you’re merely a way for him to earn some coin.

“If you’re not gonna kill me, where are you taking me?”

He doesn’t answer, he just drags you through the trees. The woods slowly gets darker as the day comes to an end, but suddenly up ahead, you see a faint light. Following close behind Matthias, you see the light grow stronger until you realize what it is. Lava. Heard about it, but never seen it with your own eyes, you’re intrigued by the warm colors.

“Why did you bring me here?” You ask confused, hoping he was telling the truth earlier and isn’t planning on throwing you in the lava.

“You were cold. Lava is hot.” He shrugs, sitting you down near a tree. He squats down in front of you, starring into your eyes. “If I go find food, will you promise to stay? Or will I have to tie you down?”

He watches you intently, his blue eyes boring into your soul, making you shiver. You hate the way your body reacts to him. He is Drüskelle, trained to capture or kill you. You’re Grisha, his enemy from before either of you were born, so why do you long to reach out and touch him? Why do you feel yourself blush when his eyes linger a little too long?

“I promise.” You whisper softly, but as Matthias turns to walk away, you can’t help but bite back. “Besides, where would I go on my own? Die of the cold or die by the hands of the Drüskelle, what’s the difference?”

You see Matthias stop for a second, shoulders tense, before he walks off into the darkness. For a second you want to run after him, fearing what would happen if he doesn’t come back. But at least he left you someplace warm. You can already feel your body relaxing as it warms up, the tremble slowly subsiding.

After a while you get bored and start exploring. If you’re still near where he left you, it would still count as staying put, right? Always been curious by nature, you walk closer to the lava.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice an opening in the rocks. Intrigued, you walk closer only to find a small tunnel. Walking in, your hand brush over an old torch on the wall. Quickly taking it and running back to the lava, you get it lit before you run back into the tunnel. Along the way there are more torches you can light, illuminating your path. At the end, it opens into a cave. No, not just a cave. Someone lived there once. A makeshift bed with furs in one corner, small shelves with trinkets and old books. All covered in layers of dust, abandoned for years.

Exploring the rest of the cave, you light every torch you find, when suddenly you see the flames reflected in some water. Walking closer, you realize it’s not a puddle as you first expected, but a whole pool of water. Deep enough to submerge in, the sides processed so they’re smooth. Whoever lived here before, made sure the edges weren’t sharp. Dipping your hand into the water, you find it warm. Probably kept that way by the lava surrounding the cave.

It’s been weeks since your last bath, always used to long relaxing and scented baths back in Ravka, so you wonder if you could bathe quickly before Matthias returns. Quickly, before you can change your mind, you discard your clothes and climb into the pool. Once submerged in the hot waters, you instantly feel better, the warmth spreading through you. After cleaning off weeks of dirt, you lean against the edge of the pool, allowing yourself to close your eyes just for a bit.

“What are you doing?!”

You jerk awake, looking up to find Matthias a few feet from you. He is clearly angry, and you can’t really blame him. You turn to face him, making sure to keep your body stays hidden under the surface.

“I’m sorry. I got curious and found this place.” You gesture to the cave with a nervous smile. “And when I saw the water, I didn’t think. I just really needed a bath.”

He just huff, annoyance painted on his features as he settles down on a stool to prepare the bird in his hand. Unsure what to do now, you linger in the water, looking at him. After a while, he throws the bird down, looking at you.

“What?!”

“I was just thinking…” You start softly, not even sure you should tease him when he’s already angry. “You could use a bath, too, you know. I’m not the only one who smells.”

“So, I should go into the water and then what? You could use your powers to kill me?” He bites back, never taking his eyes of the bird as he picks it up and start plucking of it’s feathers again.

“I would never-”

“Yes you would! I’ve seen what Tidemakers can do.” He stand up, closing the distance to you, anger burning like a rapid fire in his eyes. “You Grishas are all the same. Drüsje.”

At the last word, you feel a tightening in your chest. It never stops hurting, no matter how many times they call you a witch.

“We are not evil. I have only used my powers for good. It’s not my fault you were taught to hate me. You don’t even know me!”

Matthias avoids your gaze, but you see his eyes soften. He sighs before looking back into your eyes. “I do not hate you. I hate what you are.”

He sits down at the edge of the pool, his eyes looking anywhere but your naked flesh, which you find quite endearing. “When I was little, my family was killed by people like you. So tell me how I should not hate your kind?”

“I wasn’t even born. Why should I pay for the sins of those who came before me?”

“And why should I? Don’t tell me you haven’t heard that all Drüskelle are bad?”

At that you laugh, leaning onto your arms on the edge. “Says the man who holds me prisoner.”

Matthias laughs when it all dawns on him. Running his fingers through his hair, he looks into your eyes again, his softer than before. “I guess we are both bad.”

“Or we were both taught wrong?”

He nods, smiling softly at you. For a second his eyes travel down, but instantly he looks away, the blush creeping up his neck and cheeks. Interesting. You shift your stance, the top of your chest breaking the surface of the waters. Matthias blushes even more, muttering a Fjerdan curse under his breath.

“So… If I promise not to drown you, will you come in? You do really stink.” You ask, feeling bolder than before. Pushing away from the edge, your lean back as you swim backwards, the soft flesh of your breasts peeking above the surface. “I promise not to look as you get in.”

With a smile, you turn your back to Matthias, waiting in silence. After what seems like hours, you hear the sound of his thick coat hit the floor of the cave. The rest of his clothes soon follow and as you hear his footsteps nearing the edge, you sneak a peak at his reflection in the water. You knew he was big, the tallest of all the Fjerdan men, but now you see that everything about him is big. Biting your lip, you try your best to hold back the gasp that was threatening to leave you.

Once he’s in the water, you turn around to face him. He looks uncomfortable, vulnerable, as he sits there in the water, shed of his armor. He is right. It would be easy for you to manipulate the water, drown him. But you won’t. Like it or not, you’ve come to care for the big brute. And you believe he cares about you too.

Looking into his beautiful blue eyes, you swim closer, holding his gaze. He shifts in his seat, bottom lip quivering as you get closer. You shouldn’t do this, but every rational thought is gone. Left is only him and those eyes so deep, you could swim in them forever.

You straddle him, causing him to gasp when he feels you close. You feel him grow harder against you, his breath hitching in his throat. Scooting closer, you feel his hard length against your slick lips. You grind against him, eliciting a whimper from him.

“You’ve been so kind to me. Protecting me. You put all my thoughts about the Drüskelle to shame.” You purr, hands running over his chest, coming to a halt on his shoulders.

“They brought us up to hate each other, but I was so wrong to listen.” He pauses, his hand cupping your cheek, his touch gentler than any you’ve ever felt. “We are more alike than I could ever have imagined.”

“So you don’t want to kill me?” You ask, the words you really want to say left unspoken.

“No, that’s the last thing I want to do.” He whispers, leaning in to claim your lips in a soft kiss. As he deepens the kiss, your hand wanders down to his hard cock. Matthias moan when your fingers wrap around the base, slowly dragging your grip up and down his length. He whimpers, rolling his hips in response as you continue stroking him. Picking up the pace, you grin to yourself when you see Matthias’ flustered face, mouth open in a gasp as he throws his head back against the edge. The moaning turns to a deep growl, his hands coming to a rest on your hips in a bruising grip.

He opens his eyes, the blue replaced by black lust blown orbs as he takes you in. His lips find your again in a long, hungry kiss. “Please.” He whimpers, knowing you will know the meaning of his plea.

You let go of his cock, pushing off his lap until you’re hovering above his throbbing length. You tease him, letting the head slide through you wet folds before you cave in, lowering yourself onto him with a gasp.

“Fuck, min hjerte.” He hisses out through gritted teeth, his grip on your hips tightening. When he slides home, his whines echo in the cave. You bury your head in his neck, shivering by the feeling of him filling you up.

“Move, Matthias.”

And he does. Rocking his hips up and into you, while you hold onto his shoulders, one hand entangling in his soft dark blonde hair. With each snap of his hips, you gasp, loosing yourself in the feeling of him. You kiss him, desperate for release as you clench around him.

“A little more…” he begs, snapping his hips again, causing the water to ripple around you. “So… close…”

It’s only a few more thrusts of his hips before you come, moaning his name. it’s too much for him and he spills inside you, filling you with his cum. You fall against his chest, breathing hard as you come down from your high. Wrapping his arms around you, Matthias holds you close, placing soft kisses on your hair.

There in the cave, wrapped in his embrace, you feel the world fade away. None of you knows what the future will bring, your love a forbidden one, but none of it matters now. Right now, he’s yours and you’re his, however short a time it may be.

TFC girls: @phoebe-danvers @mindidjarin @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @mattmurdocksscars @pedrito-friskito @a-bang-for-your-bucky

Tagging: @our-chaos

#matthias helvar x reader #matthias helvar fanfiction #matthias helvar #calahan skogman fanfiction #six of crows fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfiction

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crystalelemental · 2 years

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Unit Viability Speculation - Eeveelutions

Okay, let me preface what will be said below this. I hate this. Why are they limited? Apparently they did get 1.5% rates after all, but like...these units do not feel anywhere near Pokefair level, so why are they limited? They’re limited, and not even with a 10% 5* rate, just 7%? And why are they introduced as a cluster? What if you only want one? It just kinda sucks, is all.

Unfortunately they nailed it because Kris is here. With the worst Eeveelution, but I did want an alternative for Electric-types.

All of them operate similarly. One-bar spam, status thing, three-bar AoE, trainer move that boosts one stat just for them and another for the team, sets field effect for their type on sync, debuff centric passive that makes the AoE good, Synchro Healing on grid. I actually like the structure a lot. I just wish this wasn’t such a mess.

Lucas and Flareon...I said I wasn’t gonna be pissy. Flareon’s my favorite, I notoriously don’t like the male protags, I’m not happy, but the unit itself is okay. Raises his own crit, raises team special attack, not bad at all friend. He also prevents all status conditions under Sun, which...not gonna lie, pretty poggers of you, kid. SS Morty loves that shit. He gets Solar Sync 5 and Brainpower (Seriously, if Caitlin doesn’t get this on expansion...), and his debuffs are attack/special defense. So he is Lucian-esque. But worse. Lucian has the benefit of only thriving off sync, which combos beautifully with his Growl spam, which is not just debuffs but growing speed buffs for gauge control, all in a one-bar move. Lucas, comparatively, needs 3-bars per move, has no speed control, and desperately needs to set up his own offenses given the team support effect in it. Lucas and Flareon are a worse Lucian if you consider them solely by debuffs, but the wide range of effects, including setting Sun and providing team immunity to status while under Sun, makes him an interesting pick. Notably, SS Morty goes great with this guy, packing Sun, defense boosts for the team, and best of all, speed control that Lucas otherwise lacks. This legitimately isn’t too bad.

Lyra gets Fake Tears as her status, and can debuff accuracy with Muddy Water as her AoE. Trainer move raises her special attack, and team speed, which is very nice. She prevents crits under Rain, which is incredible I think, and her debuff is to speed, so there’s another savior for F2P Cakewalk users. What’s odd is that, unless I’m misreading, Lyra focuses on attack and speed debuffs, but her multipliers are based on lowering special defense. I’m not sure how it connects, I may be missing something, but I’m running out of time. The overall is I think she’s worse than Lucas.

My girl Kris. She buffs her own special attack, and team’s crit rate. Baller. Kris sets Electric Terrain each sync, eat shit NY!Volkner, and prevents stat drops. It’s...less useful than the other two. The debuff is to a foe’s evasiveness, which is...a choice. It’s the least useful by a mile. Until you realize the grid debuff is special attack. We have ourselves another Cresselia counter, lads. This is Budget SC Rosa. She’s not strictly bad, but like...look, we just had the most insane powercreep on Electric-types. If you got Red and Ash, do not bother. Hell, with N getting 5/5 grid, do not bother. But I really like Kris, and am decisively underwhelmed by the rest of the month, so I might. Do not weep for me, friends. I did this to myself.

Lucas is de-facto the best of the three. His debuffs are actually useful in every capacity. Lyra’s super niche and seems to need the most help, while Kris isn’t intrinsically bad, but is niche and locked to Cress counter status and may not even be that good at it. Given the awful rates, the lack of anything new, and the fact that even their best underperforms compared to a permanently available general pool unit, do not pull on this. It sucks.

#pokemon masters #unit viability speculation #eevee day lucas #eevee day lyra #eevee day kris

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voxvulpina · 2 years

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I think what most astounds me about Sessrinners is that they can be so intellectually obtuse as to bend over backwards to deny what is by all intents and purposes - textbook grooming.

Let’s recap what we know about Sessrin and their relationship shall we?

Rin is:

A: a completely defenseless, all alone in the world orphaned child who’s suffered severe trauma at the hands of humans and has experienced little in the way of actually genuine kindness.

B: She meets this adult man of awe-inspiring strength who’s the first person in a long time who took an interest in her well-being and not only revived her but also brought her along to protect and clothe her.

C. So grateful is she towards Sesshomaru’s acts of kindness towards her that she treats him with the utmost reverence and respect, obeying his every command while even needing to be told by him when it’s okay to move again. In her eyes he is a God who can do no wrong, he is her savior and she is his servant to whom she feels eternally indebted to and he is now the strongest point of authority in her life.

D. Despite all this canon makes clear that she was NEVER ONCE romantically interested in him, she didn’t even have so much as a crush like Sessrinners always like to claim. If she did she wouldn’t have hardcore shipped him with Kagura and tried to get them together, instead she would’ve been jealous. Lack of jealousy and being excited over the prospect of Sesshomaru with another woman is clear demonstration of a lack of romantic interest on her part, unless Rin is polyamorous, which I very much doubt considering this is a Rumiko Takahashi franchise At most she viewed him as just a friend if not an outright father/older-brother figure. Sessrinners will give the excuse “BuT sHe wAS JuSt tOo yoUNg tO dEvEloP tHoSe KiNdS oF FeeLINGS~” 🤪 In a series where even a little kid like Shippo is able to get crushes? No. And if she was old enough to pick up on Kagura’s feelings when even Jaken couldn’t, why pray tell wouldn’t she know her own? Face it Raisins, your “QUEEN~” is just not that into him.

So knowing all this how in the ever lasting hell did Sesshomaru manage to get Rin to agree to marry him and bear his children if she never had more than platonic feelings towards him?

Well now let’s recount from Sesshomaru’s side:

Sesshomaru is:

A: 11-12 years older than Rin in human years and has been in her life since she was 7-8 and he 19, effectively watching her grow up.

B: Whether you interpret him as her father figure, master, or even just her babysitter, the fact of the matter is that he did raise her, at least for a time. Even after that he still continues to make all the important decisions in her life even down to choosing her next permanent caretaker

C: Is the only one Rin has left in this world, without him she’s shit out of luck!

What we know from how their “courtship” developed from the end of the Final Act:

A: Sesshomaru kept stopping by to bring her gifts, remaining a prominent influence in her life during her journey into puberty.

B: According to Raisins themselves the Drama CD is apparently “canon” so this means Sesshomaru was already putting the idea of marriage into Rin’s mind when she was only 11!

C: Even in marriage Rin still refers to him as “sama” and has such “complete faith him” that she even allows him to kidnap her just birthed newborns without even as so much as an acknowledgement (oh but he had enough time to say a few words to Kagome and Sango but not his own damn wife who just went through childbirth? Give me a break!)This is literally all textbook grooming, Sessrinners can miss me with that shit about it all being “Rin’s choice!” Even if you want to discount the fact that she’s a child and so literally can’t consent, just the fact that she automatically regulated Sesshomaru to the “friendzone” and was never into him that way should be proof enough that marrying him really wasn’t her “choice” after all. She married him because she felt she literally had no choice.

D: He literally uses grooming like language like “That is why it is fine for things to remain as they are for now. We have plenty of time, you can examine your heart at your own pace.”

#antisessrin #anti sessrin #antiyashahime

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sword-dad-fukuzawa · 3 years

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I support Kunikida for next leader of the ADA, pt 3

Part two can be found here.

Manga spoilers ahead.

(This panel is mostly an addendum for the first post, where I spoke about Ranpo deferring to Kunikida. As if we needed any more confirmation that Ranpo thinks Kunikida is the best choice.)

That out of the way, let’s take a look at the end of Fifteen, to that conversation between Chuuya and Mori.

What does it mean to be a leader?

"The leader stands at the top of the organization, but is also its slave. For the profit and survival of the organization, I will gladly soak in all its filth. Raise my subordinates, position them optimally, and if I need to, use and throw them away. I will gladly do any inhumane act if it's for the organization. That's what it means to be a leader...All to protect this beloved city."

Mori paints a rather bleak and ruthless picture of what leadership means to him. His version of leadership is inextricable from his own moral code, which is a Machiavellian, pragmatic thing on its own--achieve the goal at any cost. Lives don’t matter to him. Ideals don’t matter to him. The goals of his own subordinates don’t matter to him, past how he can leverage them to suit his own needs.

But that doesn’t necessarily make Mori a bad leader; in fact, he’s a rather effective one. Efficient, too, and surprisingly good at inspiring loyalty in his subordinates. You’d only need to look at the Port Mafia’s reaction to Cannibalism to see that he’s raised a rather devoted fighting force.

And yet this sort of leadership is almost directly contradictory to everything Kunikida stands for. For instance, Kunikida values the lives of his subordinates over the mission--see the helicopter scene discussed previously. He’s not suited to Machiavellian manipulation the way Dazai might be, if only because his emotions run so hot that he has no choice but to be unflinchingly honest.

Almost directly contradictory.

Because while Kunikida won’t compromise on the lives of his subordinates (which makes sense, considering the PM is a sprawling organization with resources to burn and the ADA is a small, tight-knit group of colleagues), something interesting happens when those lives are at risk.

Or did you forget, the same way I did, that Kunikida tear-gassed a group of kids in Cannibalism?

Kunikida will take the inhumane way out if it’s for the organization, with the caveat that the sin and suffering is his own. Poor man’s got a bit of a savior complex that, more likely than not, is based in trauma--see the Azure Messenger arc and the way watching that kid blow himself up nearly broke him. He can be surprisingly ruthless when it comes to people he doesn’t (yet) consider comrades--like how, back when Akutagawa captured Atsushi for the first time, Kunikida was initially against spending resources on saving him.

(I love this anime for how nuanced its characters are, and how even if Kunikida is more stringently archetypal than most, he will deviate with the pressures of the situation.)

All I can really conclude is that Kunikida and Mori can both be ruthless, because Kunikida possesses the ability to be practical. But Kunikida has lines he isn’t willing to cross--ones about permanent harm and personal culpability.

With that in mind, let’s revisit the hospital scene between Jouno and Kunikida.

It’s a fairly standard “join the dark side” speech, isn’t it? Jouno starts off with the entirely orthodox and unsurprising flattery, then makes the offer. Join the Hunting Dogs and chase down the ADA with the rest of them. He’d get acquitted, but he’d be selling his soul.

And there’s an entirely orthodox and unsurprising denial, but the slightly unorthodox and surprising order to leave. And isn’t that interesting? The offer isn’t tempting at all. In fact, it’s insulting. Kunikida’s loyalty belongs entirely to the Agency.

(I wonder what Mori would have done, in that situation.)

But is Kunikida the most like Mori?

(Short answer: no way in hell.)

When I examine the more antagonistic leaders in BSD, I see a common thread. Mori will sacrifice his subordinates for his goals, because he sees the world in amoral, utilitarian colors. Fitzgerald was willing to let Yokohama’s civilian population burn for his own ends. Fukuchi will use and abuse his subordinates as long as he gets what he wants (see how he treats Stoker?) and also could give less of a shit about civilian lives.

And maybe that’s the difference between them and Kunikida. He’s not willing to do that, the same way Fukuzawa isn’t willing to sacrifice his people or civilians for any greater goal. He takes in Kyouka, after all, when he was under no obligation to do so. When really, Kyouka was a liability at the time. It’s the sort of kindness that Kunikida shares with him.

Fukuzawa’s leadership style is revealed less through what he says, himself, and more through his subordinates. When Fitz tries to make a deal with Atsushi, where Hawthorne and Mitchell would kill each other, Atsushi reacts with digsust. “If I make this deal, I think I’ll be scolded by the director.”

Because neither Fukuzawa nor Kunikida are willing to sacrifice other people for the sake of their goals, or even their organization’s goals.

It’s not a coincidence, then, that he looks so similar to Fukuzawa in the hospital scene.

(When making deals in a shaky position, neither of them would compromise their subordinates or their organization. Even if perhaps joining the Hunting Dogs would save him, even if perhaps letting Mori pick Yosano would make him more inclined to help. The choice comes easy to them both.)

With that rambling done, I think that’ll be the end of this series. It may be updated as we get more Kunikida content.

#kunikida doppo #bungou stray dogs #Aurie Character Analysis #bungo stray dogs #bsd #fukuzawa #mori #bsd manga spoilers

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will-die-without-chai · 4 years

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I have great taste!

A/N: This is my entry for Muskan’s 500 followers celebration! Congratulations again on this follower milestone Muski ( @thebookwormslytherin ) and I can’t wait to write for more such follower milestone celebrations. Also, thank you for hosting this!!!!! Love ya!.And forgive me for this less than subpar submission.

Also this is the first time I’ve tried writing for Sam Wilson so all feedbacks and criticism are most welcome! Hope I haven’t done too bad lol.

Pairing: Sam Wilson x desi!reader (she is not as desi as I wanted but whatevs)

Words: 2752

(College au, roomates au)

Warning: A couple of swear words (And this fic isn’t beta-ed...so)

Prompt: “You got a crush on me? Ew”

Summary: Y/N gets cheated on and had to move out of her ex’s boyfriend’s house. Luckily, Sam’s roomate is moving out as well creating a vacancy. Who knows what outcome staying with your friend can bring about?

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“I know I am stupid and I never should’ve moved in with him so soon” Y/N sniffled and rubbed her red puffy and tear filled eyes dry with the sleeve of the shirt she had on as she whispered and hiccupped through berating herself after the revelation she had made that very morning. “But I cannot stay in that house Natasha! Not anymore! What do I do?” Natasha, ever concerned, patted her back, sympathy etched deep into her features whilst Y/N continued to whisper her despair into the table top where her head lay. .

Y/N had just that very morning discovered her boyfriend, or rather ex-boyfriend with his tongue deep in some other person’s mouth, while naked, on the bed they shared. Y/N had been out for the night, studying with Natasha for the upcoming exams and had unexpectedly gone home early in the morning to grab some notes only to be met with the devastating sight.

Needless to say, Y/N bolted out of the very apartment she called home for the past few months, holding back the bile and the tears rising to surface rapidly and rushed back to Natasha’s place which was only a couple of blocks away to unleash the slew of tears and heartbreak.

The sound of the jingling of the lock and the shuffling of shoes against the hardwood announced the return of the boys who had left the girls the night before to their own devices and had shifted themselves to do whatever it is that college boys do. Steve, Sam and Bucky certainly hadn’t anticipated the sight before them and already had their hackles raised, ready to have a faceoff with whatever had caused unease to their friends, but instantly settled down when Natasha motioned them to. Y/N also had significantly been drawn out of her crying stupor at their entrance.

The boys had the decency to not pry into the matters and let things be told to them, they had learned from previous experiences after all. Nat looked at Y/N and she nodded.

“Y/N went to her apartment this morning and saw Rumlow sticking his tongue deep into someone’s throat. So…” The room went into an uproar and chaos ensured as if all hell had broken loose. A chorus of “Damn it” and “I’ll fuck him up” and certain more colorful words were heard, which were then stopped and the rage was coaxed down by one menacing gaze from Natasha and a tearful sob from Y/N.

Steve immediately found his place beside Y/N and held her under the crook of his arms, hugging her tightly and Bucky and Sam settled for sitting across from them, sympathy and rage and sorrow in equal measures creeping into their features as she once again resumed crying into Steve’s shirt.

After loads of incomprehensive mumbling and sobbing till her throat felt like sandpaper and she could go no further due to exhaustion, Y/N raised her head to face the rest of the group around her. “Now that I have sufficiently rubbed tears and snot all over Steve’s clothes” She snorted causing chuckles to emanate from other’s mouths, “I have to figure out where I am going to stay, given my imminent homelessness.”

“Stay here! I can crash on the sofa, you can take the room. Nat and Buck already sleep in their room.” Steve piped in from beside her. Bucky nodded in agreement as did Nat.

A small frown took over her face. “No, no” She shook her head. “I can’t. You three are already… I can’t make you sleep on a couch in your own house, Stevie. And I cannot couch crash with the amount of stuff I have. I am definitely not going to let that asshole keep my furniture. They’re too cute and costed a fortune” This was enough to cause smiles to spread on their faces.

“That’s my girl!” Bucky cheered on.

“Yeah so I need more permanent options.”

“What about Tony? We can talk to him—“

“Not Tony!” Y/N cut Bucky off mid sentence. “I am not going to stay with Tony for the same reason Steve won’t. He wouldn’t accept rent and I’ll feel guilty and highly uncomfortable living in that state of art house. How the fuck do you have sex there Steve? Aren’t you afraid you’ll break something?” Steve turned red at the mention of his sex life and Bucky and Sam snickered like a schoolgirl. Natasha, noticing the very apparent discomfort cleared her throat pointedly.

“What about your old apartment?”

“I think the landlord already rented it to someone else.”

Sam, who had been silent thus far finally decided to speak up, “Riley is moving out in a couple of days. I haven’t looked for anyone yet and I am sure I can’t afford the rent by myself.” He looked at her meaningfully.

Y/N’s eyes brightened. “Of course! Oh you’re a savior Sammy!” She jumped up to hug him and sagged in relief when he wrapped his hands around her.

“Yeah, yeah.” He tried to say nonchalantly but the tender kiss he placed on the top of her head that was buried into his side and the tense look he shot at Natasha who had been wiggling her eyebrows at him betrayed his emotions to the rest of the occupants of the room if not to the object of the emotions.

All of Y/N’s stuff had been picked up and packed into the second-hand pickup truck Bucky owned. ‘It has a certain amount of personality’ he had said when buying it against the wishes of everyone around him. Certain choice words had been spat at Rumlow and papers had been thrown at his face dramatically and tears had been held back satisfactorily. Sam had to be contained to avoid him throwing punches and the party had been successful at extracting all important things from the apartment, furniture included.

It didn’t take much time for Y/N to settle into her new living space. She was fairly familiar with the apartment given all the time she previously spent there trying to make sense of her chemistry notes with Sam. And even though it was a house previously lived in by a couple of boys, it was surprisingly very clean. Her furniture, after a lot of moving it around was satisfactorily placed and dare she say complemented the preexisting stuff in the house very well. (The blue of the couch matched the gray of the curtains Sam had picked very well. He did have a good taste after all!)

It took merely 2 months for them to settle into a nice routine. Sam, the early riser, was responsible for breakfast. Pancakes or waffles or eggs and bacon. He was a masterful breakfast cook and Y/N was forced to adopt healthy eating habits after not much persuasion. Sam had replaced his caffeine fix with Chai*. Although chai was left to be Y/N’s department of expertise. He had tried making it once and it ended with what looked like a grimace and a forced smile on Y/N’s face. Tea making was a talent he didn’t possess.

After her classes finished for the evening, Y/N would go and hang out in the café Sam part-time worked at so they could head back home together. Dinner was on Y/N and her grandma who guided her through video calls had apparently taken a liking for Sam. He had definitely heard whispered conversations in a language he didn’t understand much of and his name being mentioned often. Anyhow, study nights were all the more easier when both the members of the group occupied the same house and there was no fear of notes getting mixed up and rushing over to each other in between lectures to exchange them back. . Life was a well oiled machine when lived with appropriate people, after all.

They had also adapted the system of movie nights. Both had found each other lacking in their own definition of pop culture and had decided to teach the other and make them a respectable member of society, wise enough to get popular references. Saturday nights were mostly unoccupied and hence were conveniently movie nights. Each picked one movie, unseen by the other on alternate weeks. And oh boy, it was an event.

The couch was loaded with throw pillows and blankets, temperature was brought down and hoodies were worn for utmost comfort. Popcorn was popped, candies were bought a plenty and if the occasion called for it, or the ambience of the movie, beer was welcomed. And on occasion, they even fell asleep on the couch (If their backs were witches, they would’ve been cursed by now).

One such night, after loud exclamations of ‘How could you not have watched it!’ and ‘She was my bi awakening!’ and ‘This would not be borne’, Pride and Prejudice was the movie they settled upon. By the end of the movie a half asleep Y/N had ended up draped halfway over Sam with her head comfortably nestled into the crook of his shoulders and neck, her every breath peacefully lulling Sam into the state of drowsiness. Sam knew from previous experiences aplenty that he would regret sleeping like this in the morning but he couldn’t be bothered right now. Future Sam could deal with a bit of back pain.

“It would be nice to have someone to tell you that they love you most ardently. I wish I could have someone tell me that they love me most ardently and mean it.” Y/N mumbled with her eyes closed.

“I will if you let me.” Sam subconsciously let it slip and then tensed up immediately when he realized what he had said. When he did not feel any reaction, he relaxed back again but not without a frown. He half wished she were awake and could listen to what he had said. At least that way it would have been out and on the table. It would also be terribly painful if she didn’t feel the same and ended up feeling uncomfortable around him.

It had taken a very long time for Y/N to again be comfortable and confident after her breakup. She was apparently very serious about the asshole and he had broken her heart. Good thing Sam reciprocated by breaking his nose! (Don’t tell Y/N though. She thinks Brock broke his nose when he fell down the stairs. This was not completely a lie… Sam did push him down the stairs as well. Don’t worry. There were just 5 steps)

Anyhow, it was getting tough for him to control his emotions around her. He couldn’t help but stare at her when she laughed so openly at his lame jokes. He couldn’t help but stare at her lips when she tasted his newest experimentation on pancake batter. He couldn’t help his eyes when they inadvertently went towards her table, when he was supposed to pay attention to the order in front of him at the café. He couldn’t help but deviate towards her at any given chance. He couldn’t help but savor all her little touches. And he was afraid that he was painfully obvious. If not to her then to everyone else around him.

All these thoughts kept encircling his brain and he fell asleep, clutching Y/N a little bit closer than before, burying his nose further into her hair. Morning came and Sam surprisingly woke up alone with a blanket draped over him. Generally he was the first to wake up. He got up and followed the noises coming from the kitchen to see Y/N making breakfast. And of course, chai. Some old Hindi song played on the radio softly and he could see the hello kitty apron he had bought for her as a joke hastily thrown on, its back untied.

It was a picture of serenity, to an outsider maybe. But Sam knew there was something off. Y/N getting up this early, cooking and old hindi songs playing was a deceptive picture that screamed something was bothering her.

“You cooking something, hon?” He said out loud as he made his way to the dining table. Y/N jumped slightly at being startled and then nodded enthusiastically. Almost too enthusiastically. Sam narrowed his eyes. Without turning to face him Y/N explained further. “You were asleep. I woke up early and thought I could make something. It’s been days since we’ve had poha*, no?”

Sam kept quiet and decided to take out plates and set the table instead. They kept working silently but the silence was too heavy. It settled over his skin thickly and Sam didn’t like the feeling. Once they were sat on the table Sam decided to bring up the subject again, the silence and awkwardness becoming a little troubling.

“What’s wrong Y/N? You know you can share it with me. I am here.” He said, placing a comforting hand on hers. Her eyes that were focused on her plate shot unto his face.

“I heard what you said last night.” She blurted out, eyes still trained at him. Sam was stunned into silence and his heartbeat rose rapidly. It was incredibly unexpected and sudden and Sam was caught off guard. Incredibly so.

“You- you did.” He stammered stupidly. Y/N nodded. “I was on the verge of drifting off and I heard it and I-“ She fell silent, her eyes slipped to where his hand rested on hers, her teeth automatically trapping her bottom lip between them.

“I like you. Like like you. I have, since the day we met at Steve’s party and you went on and on about tea and how to make it and how coffee could never compare and you weren’t even drunk!” Y/N let out a chuckle at that and Sam continued. “I couldn’t help but fall for you and I looked for reasons to spend time with you, snatching every opportunity to have you around me. I know I am sounding like the cheesiest cheesy person, like a kraft’s dinner but add cheddar to it level of cheesy, but you being happy makes me so fucking happy! And that’s the point. I can bear to see you be sad and if this makes you uncomfortable, tell me to stop. I will. I won’t mention this ever again and we could go back to being us and you aren’t obligated to reciprocate my feelings or anything. But I think I don’t have it in me to keep it in anymore.”

He finally looked up to look at her and maybe take a breath after the rant he just had in one go and found her still staring at their hands. Assuming that it made her uneasy, he proceeded to take it away, his heart sinking. But he was stopped by her fingers grasping at his sleeves.

She peered from under her tear laced lashes to look at him. “You have a crush on me? Ew” she let out a sound that sounded like something between a sob and a snort and a smile spread across her lips. “I thought you had better taste.” She joked albeit a bit bashfully.

Sam felt a weight lift off his chest and the urge to bang his head against an iron pole reduced significantly. “Hey, I have great taste! I picked up those gray curtains that go so well with your blue couch and that you love very much. Also I introduced you to real maple syrup and took you away from that ‘aunt jemima’ bullshit you were poisoning yourself with.”

“Hey I am a college student who earns just enough to fulfill my bare necessities so give me a break! That shit is costly. And I was the one who introduced you to Mukesh*, okay?” She held his hand now and intertwined her fingers with his.

“Goes to say how good my taste is.”

“I like you too.”

Silence fell over them once again as they giddily looked at each other and held hands, the chai long gone cold and the poha turned a little stiff. But the silence now was palatable, pleasant even.

A couple days later, chaos ensued again in their little group when Y/N planted a sound kiss on Sam’s lips before separating from the group with a quick cheeky ‘goodbye’ to go to her class. The chorus of ‘How?’ and ‘When?’ and ‘I want details’ and a quiet call of ‘who won the bet then’ left hanging in the air for Sam to answer.

*Translations:

Chai: Chai is tea ofcourse. But its also more than tea. Its an concoction made of tea, water, milk, sugar and spices all meticulously brought to a boil and then heated some more. It is a thing that requires practice, but also some magic.

Poha: Poha is a breakfast food made of flattened rice flakes sauted with onions and other vegetables and spices, according to one’s preferences hich is served warm with a dash of lemon and a sprinkling of coriander (Varun Thakur’s stand up, anyone?)

Mukesh: A very illustrious, very very famous indian musician from the 60′s and 70′s. He had the voice of an angel.

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Hope this was a bearable read! As said earlier, feedback and criticism is always welcome!

Tagging: @spiderrpcrker @officially-tonynat-shrine @hoeticulture @dragoncreek319 @severelytinyeagle @lgbtonystarks @cynical-ravenclaw @fandom-is-my-middle-name @emilyshurley @fiovske @bispiderson @moonbeambucky @revengingbarnes @shurisneakers @kuuhakublank00 @stardustandbucky @infj-slytherclaw @anjali750 @your-villainous-neighbour @viktorkrumn

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agentstarkbarnes · 3 years

Text

Three days. That's how long she has been running. From Johnsonville.

Princess Julia Katina-Rose Johnson was the only heir of the Johnson family. The crown princess of Johnsonville. The glorious child of King Grant and Queen Daisy. The highly respected and beloved royalty of her vast, diverse country. "Our savior" the people called her affectionately. Her parents ruled the land in all fairness, and Princess Julia was no different from them. She understood the people, and was idolized by many. "The perfect queen" as the court said.

The king and queen had chosen her to be the queen.Even though she didn't have a husband. She had suitors lined up, for all good reasons. She was the most beautiful princess, according to messengers, spies and the princes who came to ask her hand in marriage. She didn't like them, it was that simple. Some of them got drawn back when they found out she talked for herself, some did not like the attitude she displayed. Arrogant, they called her. But anyone could see it as intelligence. That was her. She was the smartest person in any room. Speaks up for herself, confident and brave. Her parents never once told her off. They let her be herself. And here she is, the fiercest, smartest and the prettiest face in the land, and the chosen queen. They were yet to break the happy news to the people.

With all good news lined up, what went wrong? Why was the beloved princess on the run? Good question. Princess Julia was adored by everyone, therefore she had a lot of enemies within the court. The ministers whom she outsmarted, the corrupt chancellors she exposed. The list grew. As she did noble deeds to the people, she gathered the hate of those who weren't happy with the deeds done. The princess knew she had haters, but never once expected it to be from her family. Christian. The king's brother. Her uncle. Uncle Chin, she affectionately called. He was two faced. He pretended to be noble to the subjects and loyal to the family. In the darkness of the night, he turned his back on them. Contract killers, that's what they are called. He had smuggled them into the castle, led them into the king and the queen's room. A passage only the royal family knew. Christian used the trust to backstab his brother Grant and the queen Daisy. They were killed that night. The princess heard the sounds. She rushed to her parents' room. Saw her uncle grinning over her parents' corpse. The killers gathering near Christian, also grinning.

"Why?" was the only thing she could whisper, her eyes boring deep into his. "Vengeance. Your father took the throne from me. I wanted it back. After all these years of waiting, I wouldn't let it be given to you, a brittle princess" Christian spoke. Venom laced his words. "The savior. The perfect queen. Many endearing terms. You won the hearts of the people. I didn't. What could I do other than this, to get what's rightfully mine?" he smiled coldly. "The throne was never yours" Julia said in a brave tone, showing that she is not intimidated by him.

"Finish her" Christian said. The killers approached her. Julia was smarter. She kicked some of the killers' kneecaps. This gave her time to run. So she did.

Day 1. She ran to the village. Seeking help or shelter from the people she helped. The people gave her food. Bread, fruits, biscuits, water. Whatever was left of them. Christian ordered the men to search the kingdom for Julia. Wanted her dead at sight. So the search began. Julia had a temporary hideout in a paddy field. When the search was over, she learnt. She learnt that the people who defended her were killed. That's when they stopped. Stopped helping her. Pretended they didn't hear her. She was a ghost. She took the message and moved on.

Day 2. The forest. That was the only place left. Christian crowned himself. The people of Johnsonville accepted him as their king. They knew they were wrong. They knew they should have protected the princess. After everything she has done for them. But they couldn't. They accepted the tyrant. Anyone who spoke against him were whipped. In front of everyone. And that was just his first day as king. No one said anything.

Day 3. Julia had almost crossed the boundaries of Johnsonville. She looked back one more time. She looked at her parents' summer house in fire. Christian did it. Erasing the memories of the previous king and queen. The people who made the golden time of Johnsonville happen. In ruins. The place she had called home. The place she was willing to serve. She couldn't call it home anymore. She had nobody there. Everyone turned blind to her. Her uncle, the royalty, the people who had once sworn to protect her, the people she had sworn to protect.

And here she is. Barefoot. Her foot aching with the burden of running for days. She knew she had to return to Johnsonville. It was her home after all. She wasn't the one to give up. She is a fighter. And she will fight. Fight for once what her home was.

Food had run out yesterday. She picked some fruits by the bushes. Mint leaves. Elderberry. Ate whatever she could gather. Sleep was a luxury now. She knew that her uncle wouldn't let her live. Moving as far as she can was the only choice.

It's been hours. She began her journey this afternoon. It was evening. She was on the outskirts of Rogersburg. A peaceful kingdom, she thought. Just like Johnsonville was. She winced at the was. Anyway, she didn't have time nor the energy to think more about it. She would only worry herself. She decided to move on. Go wherever her legs take her.

She moved a little more. That's it. 3 days of running has finally got to her. She laid by a tree and closed her eyes. Praying Christian wouldn't send men to Rogersburg to find her. Her thoughts slowly faded as she slowly started to sleep.

She woke up from her sleep. Looked around. She was not in a forest anymore. Soft velvet blankets placed upon her. She was surprised. Surprised that her feet weren't hurting. She looked down at her feet. They were healed. Medicines were placed on the nightstand. Did she end up in Johnsonville again? No. The sunset looked different. Did I sleep for almost a day? She wondered. She grabbed the brass vase by the nightstand and looked at the door. She decided to stay armed until she knows what's going on.

The doors opened. She quietly saw the person. Muscular figure. Blond hair. Blue eyes. A kind body language. Any person would immediately trust him. Not Julia. Even though she wanted to trust him. He sat on the edge of the bed. "Why am I here?" she asked as she put the vase down. That's when she realized that her voice had gone raspy. Looks like he did too. He reached for water and helped her drink.

"I found you in the forest. I recognised you immediately. The smartest, bravest and the prettiest princess in all land" he said, his cheeks tinting pink. "Anyway, I wouldn't let someone on the forest like that. I brought you back here and asked the maids to take care of you." Julia smiled lightly. "Where are my manners?" he scolded himself. "I'm Prince Steven Rogers of Rogersburg. Call me Steve" he extended his hand. A permanent smile stayed on his face. A sincere smile. "I know.Princess Julia Johnson of Johnsonville" she returned the smile.

"I've heard about you." Steve said. Even though he knew her. But neither of them said a thing. He handed her a plate of food. Biscuits, tea, sandwiches. She ate them slowly. "I know. You said that moments ago" she said softly, savoring the food she got. He rubbed the back of his neck, hiding his blush. She smiled. It's been days since she smiled naturally. "I know about you too. Steven Grant Rogers. Crown prince of Rogersburg. Chivalrous, meek, smart. Not afraid to help anyone. Not a perfect soldier but a good man" she said. They exchanged smiles. An instant connection, a spark. Both could feel it.

"Why didn't you come ask my hand in marriage? We are neighboring countries. Just curious" she asked, pouring her tea into a cup. Stir stir stir. She dropped a sugar cube. The sugar dissolved as she stirred. She looked at him for an answer. He then slowly opened his mouth. "I did not want to marry you without you knowing me. I mean.." he tapped his fingers on his knees. Tap tap. Tap tap tap. She noticed the pattern he tapped. His nervousness. "I've seen kings and queens in a loveless marriage. I wanted to know you and love you, before marrying you. I wanted to meet you but you were always fighting, holding court or serving your country. I didn't want to bother your noble work" he looked at his feet. "We've met" Julia echoed in the room. He nodded. He remembers too. It was a fine spring day. The gathering of the Johnsons and the Rogers. Blossoms on every tree. Steve and Julia talked all day. About nothing and everything. At the end of the day, both liked how the other person thinks and acts. Their character. Their sense of service. It was a spark. But neither talked about it. Steve left for his palace, so did Julia. Until now.

Clink. Julia placed the cup on the table and looked at him. "So.." she began to talk. Steve didn't let her. His lips crashed on hers. She accepted it. He wasn't urgent or desperate. He was slow, loving. She pulled him closer. He kissed her just right. He withdrew slowly and looked at her. His eyes were soft. Nervous, almost. She nodded her head. Wanted him to know it was okay. He helped her sit right against the wall. Propped pillows around her. He looked at her. It was her turn. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him lovingly. Steve took her cheek in his palm and held her gently. They kissed. They kissed as if they had all the time in the world.

Withdrawing, they cuddled. It was comforting. Breaking the silence surrounding the cuddle, Steve softly talked. "We know what happened to Johnsonville". Julia nodded slowly, letting tears fall from her face for the first time since it happened. They rolled down her cheeks. Steve immediately brought his hand and wiped them. "We are going against them. An assassination as father calls it. Our family loved yours very much. My parents had an enormous respect for them. We shall never hurt anyone from the family." he said. She nodded again. "I promise you. Innocents will be spared. Christian will be the only casualty. Christian and his men." he kissed her cheek. She smiled at him. She knew Johnsonville was secure. Their castle was more secure. "I can help" she muttered, holding his arms around her. "Okay, if you want to" he smiled.

It's been seven months. Three months since she came to Rogersburg. Prince Steve and Princess Julia had developed a romance. A romance that should've happened way earlier. But who cares? They are together now. That's the way. Soulmates always find a way to each other. The Rogers family kept her a secret. The assassination was planned over these months. Just one night away. And Johnsonville should return back to the old self. The prosperous, happy and lush country. The place which she once called home. She will get to call it again. She knew she will. Steve promised her. The Rogers promised her. She knew about their loyalty. They always helped countries get back to happiness. Plus, they were like a family to her now. The bond has been created. A bond so strong, she felt like one of them.

This is the night. The night where she finally gets her country back. The assassins were sent. Julia helped them. King Rogers was vigilant all night. Steve and Julia laid on the velvet couch. None of them were sleepy. It was 2 in the morning and neither of them slept. Steve read books to her while they cuddled under a blanket. Julia read to him too. They talked. They kept awake all night. Steve said he'll marry her after this. If she agreed to it. Julia said yes. They celebrated this happy moment within themselves. Steve made a makeshift ring from the vine from the plant beside him. She laughed as she let him put the vine/ring on her finger. They kissed for a while. They kissed because it was official. They made their love public and official. They kissed because they were willing to get into anything. Together. They would face anything with each other. They had love. They were in love. They loved each other. The news came in. Christian was dead.

Julia walked back to Johnsonville again. Her home. She was glad to call it her home again. She was crowned. All the corrupt officials were gotten rid of. It was only a matter of months to get this job done. She had the help of Rogersburg. Together, they brought back Johnsonville to it's old form. The people apologized for their behavior. Julia knew they meant the apology. She was the bigger person, she always is. So, she forgave them. They were grateful for her. She was their savior after all. She restored their summer home. The one which Christian burnt. She turned it into a park. A memorial for Grant and Daisy. After almost a year, Steve and Julia got married. She was now Julia Katina-Rose Rogers. They ruled Johnsonville and Rogersburg. People saw them as the next Grant and Daisy. They were happy under them. Guess what? Maybe happily ever after exists after all.

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rayroute-clear-saeran-text-sound · 5 years

Text

The Making of Ecstasy (Saeran x Reader)

Not sure if this is a little long for tumblr, as I’m not used to writing on this platform! Will this get slept on? probably. This is based off of Casual and Deep stories’ prologue bad end, apologies if it’s ooc. Of course my first piece on here had to be Saeran, who else would it be?

You were the only one in the intelligence room at the moment, and although it was dark, it was nice and peaceful. The usual furious clicking of keys was absent, instead replaced by the dull hum of computers and the light scratching sound of your pen against paper. Luckily, the dark circles under your eyes were hidden in the shadows of the room. The only light available to you was the minute amount cast from the several monitors you were staring at. Not that it mattered, what you were doing had no importance considering the logs existed permanently within files Unknown had stored. In other words, if your work was illegible, it wasn't the end of the world. Unknown would only punish you for it if he was in a bad mood or if he had a killer headache. You were tasked with making hard copies of every single chatlog from the RFA chatroom, a job given to you with no other purpose than keeping you busy, tired, and irritated.

"MC is so gullible..." You murmured to no one but yourself. Unknown had originally tried to get you to play the role of party coordinator for the RFA, but you weren't having it. You did show up to the apartment, but you had ignored everything he told you and wouldn't step inside. Unknown somehow decided that you would make a good assistant, and you only agreed because he had you at gunpoint at the time. Now you were living at Mint Eye with Unknown, so numb with tiredness that you stopped caring if you lived or died. You weren't considered a believer yet, as you hadn't taken any elixir. You saw how it made Unknown feel, and you wanted no part of it. Sure, you may not have the freedom to roam around Magenta, but at least you had your sanity. If you wanted to go somewhere, you had to have the permission of the savior and be accompanied by Unknown. It wasn't as if you had grown to like Mint Eye and Magenta, it was more that you had gotten used to it, which meant you had become comfortable with it on some level. Your eyelids began to flutter shut as you closed the last chatlog, job done until another one opened at one point or another. Just as your head began to drift slowly into a light cat nap, you felt fingers dig into your shoulders tightly and suddenly, causing you to jolt up and scatter your papers everywhere. You whipped around to come face to face with a pair of mint green eyes that held mischief.

"Did you miss me, princess?" You huffed as you bent down to pick up the papers on the ground, holding back the urge to strangle him in order to make that laughter stop right in his throat.

"These papers all are out of order now, I hope you're happy, Unknown." He shrugged, obsidian eye tattoo catching your attention as always.

"I don't care." He took the stack of logs from your hands and threw them haphazardly into the filing cabinet that he put all of your work in. In actuality, there was nothing really of value, just a lot of Zen bragging about how handsome he is. You had grown to hate the RFA as well, probably because of how much time you had spent around Unknown. Naturally, he had rubbed off on you. He was the only one you were allowed to see after all. Your eyes analyzed his face cautiously, as there was a vague, worrying excitement in his features that you had yet to place.

"What's up? Are we going somewhere again...?" You couldn't help but become equally hopeful at the prospect, you didn't get to leave Magenta very often.

"No. Savior gave me a special assignment, and I need your help." You raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Her special assignments usually meant cleansings, and you hated those. You mainly helped to restrain the unlucky souls who were the subject of the ceremony, and whenever Unknown was the one doing the cleansing, it was a bloodbath. Everyone at Mint Eye knew him to be ruthless, and you supposed it worked to keep everyone in line. It still didn't change how scarring they were to be a part of, and how much they scared you. You found yourself wondering if he would ever do those things to you, but you figured not. The most he had ever done to you since becoming his assistant was yell at you or smack you, and usually not very hard. That was all when you first started, and since you had been with him for a while, he had become softer with you. Unknown smirked at you, sending a slight shiver up your spine. You didn’t get much time to wonder how how he always had that effect on you. "Relax, it's not a cleansing. We're making a batch of elixir." You asked yourself why he needed your help, as he was perfectly capable of completing the task himself; he did it all the time. You thought it was a bit suspicious, but figured that he was asking for your company in the most indirect way possible.

“Fine. I’m your assistant, I have no choice in the matter, right, Saeran?” His eyebrows quirked up at the use of his real name, bringing you to cast your eyes towards the floor. “I mean, Unknown.” He shrugged, black jacket slipping farther down his shoulder while he cracked a grin.

“Whatever. Let’s just go get this done.” He seemed rather upbeat, which was odd to you. “You know the drill.” You nodded curtly as he placed his hands over your eyes, his gentleness surprising you. The not knowing aspect of everything killed you every time you walked out of the intelligence room, but you had grown used to the disorienting feeling of the unknown. You used to take short and nervous steps whenever you couldn’t see, but now you would take long and sure strides, knowing full well that anyone would move out of your way and that Unknown wouldn’t let you get in harm’s way; you were his assistant after all, so if you got hurt, it should be on his own accord. That was his fallacy anyway. As far as you knew, Magenta was big, but it seemed to take ages to get to the lab. “Stop.” Unknown’s voice was strong and commanding, and you of course listened without question. He finally uncovered your eyes, and you had to blink several times in order for your eyes to adjust to the harsh contrast in lighting. He was digging out his ID that doubled as a key card for the more secure and private rooms of the Mint Eye while you were still stuck on why he wanted you there.

“Unknown, are you sure I can be here?” The large and bland metal door made you nervous, and you had no idea what was behind it. You knew deep down that the savior had no idea you were attending the crucial task, and you were vaguely able to grasp that Unknown didn’t want her to know.

“Tch. Of course.” His eyes screwed shut as he faced away from you, turning his attention on the door. “And don’t call me that!” Your eyes narrowed in question, as you were absolutely sure you had called him Unknown. “Call me Saeran...at least for the day.”

“Um...okay.” Another red flag went up immediately within your brain. He was contradicting himself, something that had you wondering if you should run back and get his medication. When he began to heavily oppose himself it usually meant he was going to have an...episode. In actuality, you weren’t sure how to describe them. It was almost as if his persona was splitting apart. That, or he would have one hell of a headache. He swiped his card and the light on the handle blinked green three times, granting the two of you access. He swung the door open, holding it open for you with a smug grin.

“After you, princess.” You entered wordlessly, concern for him still in the back of your mind. You never liked seeing him in immense pain. You weren’t stupid, you could tell when someone was innocently being exploited. Not only did you want to get yourself out of Mint Eye, you wanted to get Saeran out as well. But, that was an issue to solve another day...perhaps in another life. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of everything. You had made plenty of cult jokes during your time at Mint Eye, but somehow the image of a large, witch-like cauldron was no longer funny now that it was presenting itself right in front of you. There were countless cabinets, the contents a mystery. Saeran closed the door behind him, leaving you alone with him in a room that smelled intensely of hallucinogens. In college, you had tried them once and vowed never again. However, you were more than familiar with them because of your roommate. “You’re going to want to grab the jars with the blue and green stickers, and the bottle with the pink sticker.”

“Yeah, sure.” Saeran dragged a large bowl out from somewhere, along with tools to blend and mix. It seemed the two of you were only making a small batch, which brought you circling back to the subject of why he needed your help. You hopped up onto the counter to grab the required items, and by seeing them through the jars, you could identify them well. “You use peyote and mushrooms in this?” You felt your stomach sickeningly sink, and were definitely glad you had refused any elixir given to you.

“Huh? I guess.” His reply seemed to give off the impression that he had no clue about any of the ingredients in the elixir, he only knew how to make it.

“Do you...know what those are?” You asked tentatively as he continued to prepare your work station. He shrugged. You took a sniff of the bottle, and the pungent alcohol smell made the liquid in question easily identifiable. “ And methanol?!” It was not at all surprising that he was always wrecked after taking the stuff. It was a wonder how he wasn’t dead from how much he was taking on a regular basis. “Saeran…”

“It’s fine! It’s the elixir of salvation, it’s necessary...”

“Salvation isn’t supposed to be pain, Saeran.” If he heard you, he was ignoring you. You wanted no part in the actual making of the elixir, you only watched as he skillfully mixed the drugs and chemicals together with other hazardous ingredients until it came out as a toxic chemical punch with an unnaturally vibrant blue hue. Once he was done, he turned to you with a teasing glint in his mint green eyes. “Uh oh...” You murmured to yourself, despite feeling your lips curve into a slight smile.

“Why don’t you be the taste tester?” He held one of the bottles that he had funneled the batch of elixir into out to you. It did look a bit mesmerizing, the way the light reflected off of the heart shaped glass, the liquid inside looking as if someone had bottled neon signage.

“No.” You shook your head, pushing his arm away.

“Oh come on, I need to know if it’s good!” You knew he was joking by the way his words were broke by giggles. You were glad that he felt comfortable enough alone with you to relax a bit and let loose without being violent.

“No, and that’s final!” Your own giggles tumbled out past your lips.

“Okay, fine. It’s probably for the better. Once you have the elixir, you can roam wherever, and then you won’t be mine anymore.” Your eyebrows furrowed in both concern and confusion, as he had immediately snapped back into a deadly seriousness. He stayed as silent as a grave as his eyes raked over your frame, finding they’re purchase on your face. A bad feeling began to settle in the pit of your stomach. You knew he had been acting strange, and at first he seemed to settle, but now there was an unsure look in his eyes that didn’t necessarily scare you, but it did worry you a bit.

“Are you...” You trailed off as Saeran took a step toward you. You responded by stepping back, but for every movement back, he advanced forward. You weren’t afraid that he would hurt you, not at that moment. However, it didn’t stop you from being intimidated. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt your back bump into a counter, and at that moment you were trapped between Saeran and the counter. There seemed to be a storm brewing in his eyes, and you had a feeling the downpour was about to begin. “Saeran, what are you doing?” Such a simple question seemed to be a tablespoon of baking soda added to the vinegar that was Saeran’s emotional well, as he exploded.

“You...you won’t leave me, right?!” Despite being taken aback by his sudden prompt, you were going to respond. However, he didn’t allow you the chance. “You can’t!” His voice cracked as tears pricked his eyes. “You and my savior, you’re the only ones I trust.” He dipped his head, bleached locks falling into his eyes while he put all his weight on his palms, which rested on the counter on either side of you. He began to throw himself into a dizzying spiral of repeated doubts, begging you not to leave him. You were caught like a deer in the headlights, heart hurting from hearing his broken words. Even though you wanted to leave the Mint Eye desperately, you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. Not without him. He’s told you all of his stories of betrayal, and you wouldn’t do that to him too. Even though you would both annoy each other, you cared about him and his well being when it really came down to it.

Is he having an episode...? You thought to yourself as he continued his breakdown, his body shaking. You would always fetch his meds without question whenever he had a headache, usually before he ever snapped at you that his head was pounding and that he needed them. You felt so close to him, because you honestly were, you had been close to him after becoming his assistant, you were by his side at almost all times. So naturally, you would just know something was happening before it blew up into a huge problem. What you just couldn’t grasp was why he was so suddenly begging for you not to leave him.

“You can’t leave me, okay?!” He was all but sobbing, wiping the tears that were threatening to spill with his shoulder.

“What? Saeran, if you need your meds, I can run and get them if it’s your head that’s the problem-”

“Agh, no! You’re the problem!” He snapped at you, cutting you off. Admittedly, you felt a little hurt by his words, which was the first time since becoming his assistant that his sharp tongue had truly stung you. He saw your expression shift, and you thought you saw a flash of panic in his eyes. “It’s-” He huffed, shutting his eyes tightly and then looking at you once more. “You make me feel so damn complicated!” You bit your lip as the counter continued to dig harshly into your back. You could feel Saeran’s body pressed flush up against your own, as well as a fierce heat that rose to your face.

“Saeran, I...” In truth, you weren’t sure how to respond. He made you feel equally as complicated. Did you love him? You thought so. Deep down, behind all of the trauma, you knew there was a good person. You wanted to confidently tell him that it would be okay, that everything he was feeling was natural, and that he deserved all of it. Hell, even spill your own feelings. However, all that managed to slip past your lips were incomprehensible and incomplete stutters. You didn’t have to stumble over your words for long, though. Saeran roughly slammed his lips onto yours, in an attempt to get across all that he didn’t know how to say. You were thankful, as your words were failing you as well. You moved your lips in time with his, hoping he would get the message. He seemed to regain his confidence as you two parted.

“You’re mine, and only mine.” He growled huskily in your ear. You knew that getting him out and away from Mint Eye would be a challenge, but you hoped that maybe this would be a step in the right direction.

“Yes.” You spoke that single hushed word, and that was all Saeran needed. He pressed his lips against yours once more, with as much unbridled energy as before. He smirked against your lips, slipping his hands underneath your shirt, running his hands up your sides. You shivered as his fingers danced along your skin, still continuing to kiss him back. Just as he swiped his tongue gingerly against your bottom lip, the door to the lab was opened and the sound of someone awkwardly clearing their throat bounced off the floors. Saeran immediately distanced himself from you, face flushed as red as his tank top. You cast your gaze to the floor, unwilling to look at the believer who had interrupted the rather intimate moment.

“Unknown, the savior is looking for you.” The believer’s eyes darted around the room, never once catching Saeran’s. The believer was equally embarrassed of the scene he had just walked in on, judging by his blush that rivaled Saeran’s.

“Yeah, sure. If you tell anyone about this, I’ll make sure I’m the one doing your next cleansing.” The believer nodded quickly and briskly left the room, leaving you two alone once more. The mood had been killed, but it was probably for the best. It sounded as if he was needed elsewhere, anyways. “C’mon, let’s go. I’ll walk you to the intelligence room.” He once again placed his hands over your eyes when you were out in the hallway, leaning in close to your ear. “We’ll pick up where we left off later.~” He chuckled lowly, continuing to guide you through the many corridors of Magenta.

#mystic messenger #fanfic #fanfiction #mystic messenger fanfiction #saeran #saeran choi #x reader #saeran x reader #unknown #unknown x reader #mysmes #mysmes x reader #mystic messenger x reader #choi twins #mint eye #bad ending

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nat-20s · 5 years

Note

ten donna prompt where theyve just got back from the tardis after seeing Some Shit. donna is a little shaken, and the doctor is trying to help as best he can.

sorry thi took so long lmao also i didn’t edit because this is full of FEELINGS and editing it would be Too Much anyway have fun

Donna was quiet.Donna had been quiet since she’s gotten back to the Tardis, maybeeven before then, though things had been a bit too chaotic for theDoctor to be able to accurately tell. A deep sense of wrongnesspervaded every cell of his beingas long as the air remained empty, so he tried to fill up the spacewith his own chatter. Pulling at various levers and knobs mostly todo something with the itchy sensation under his skin, he asked, “So,Donna! Where to next? Alien planet? Something historical? A nicecoffee shop? Maybe one of the ones with cats OH I love a good catcafe don’t you? Or are yu not much of a cat person? Well obviouslyyou’re not a cat person,not like those nuns, have I ever told you about those nuns, unlessyou are a cat person,just very well disguised. Donna, you’re not a secret cat person,right?”

Whenthat didn’t illicit even a “No, dumbo”but instead resulted in Donna continuing her dead-eyed stare at theconsole, The Doctor’s twohearts started to pound. Injecting a bit more false pep into hisvoice, he continued on, “ ‘Course, we don’t have topick a destination. I always like a good surprise, let the Tardis goon according to her whims. We’re sure to go somewhere excitingthen, the ol’ girl refuses to let us get bored.”

Donnasucked in a breath through her noise, turned glassy eyes towardshis, and said in a small voice,“I think I should go home.”

Small. Hervoice is small. Nopart of her should be small. Donna Noble is meant to take up space.Donna is meant to be loud and large and present andunapologetic about all of that. But her voice is small, her postureis hunched inwards, and she doesn’t exist enough in the room. TheDoctor knew what exactlyshe meant, but he had also foundthat on occasion, if he simply acted like something wasn’thappening, then it wouldn’t. It was rare, but it was worth a shot.“Right! Always good to have a break. Catch up with Wilf, hear somestories, love hisstories, maybe avoid a whole world ending disaster this time, allthat jazz! Sounds great! Molto bene!”

Donna’sbreath stuttered and a few tears spilled unbidden. She hadn’t meantto cry, she was trying really really hardnot to cry, but she supposed she couldn’t put it off forever. Voicea bit stronger but still small, too small, she replied, “ No,I mean, drop me off. Permanently. I think..I think you should findsomeone else. You’re stillgonna need someone but I don’t think that someone is me.”

“What?Why? No, wait, what? Donna,I, I suppose, I..no. Ifyou want to leave, I’ll understand, obviously, I’m not going toforce you to-”

“-Ofcourse I don’t want to.”

“Then..,”The Doctor stammered for about 30 seconds before he came up with theresponse, “what? Whywould you leave?”

Donna’svoice finally came back strong. It’s somehow worse. “Because! I’mnot enough, all right!”

“Notenough? Not enough how? Not enough for what?”

Donnagestured wildly to the room around her. “All of this! What if..whatif I was always missing things, big, grand universal things, becauseI was meant to! What if Lance, what if my own mother wasright! Maybe I’m just meant to care about, I dunno, tabloids androyal weddings and office gossip. I’m not supposed to have theuniverse in my charge! I don’t have medical knowledge or anindomitable will or an incorroptiple sense of right and wrong or anyof the things that would make me good at this! For Christ’s sake,you got hurt because I wanted to have a spa day, what kind ofcompanion is that? God, the more I think about it, the more I realizeyou can’t possibly want me here. Sure, you’ll tolerate me,because you have to, because I do that thing where I push and I pushand I push and don’t ever notice when someone’s just beingpolite, when they’re just putting up with me because I’venever given them a word in edgewise-”

Nomore comes out because Donna has started to hyperventilate. In awink, The Doctor is at her side, one of her hands wrapped in both ofhis own, and making sure that she’s looking at him. “Donna. Wejust fought off a creature with both physic and shape-shiftingabilities that are specifically meant to demoralize its targets. It’sgrueling. So these terrible thoughts,these feelings, thatyou’re having right now. I promise that they’ll pass, andI promise even more that they’re not true.”

Herbreathing slowed down, but she hardly looked any less distressed. Shewas at least able to kee speaking, throat no longer quite sotight. “That’s the thing though, it worked. What betterevidence is there that these thoughts are true than the fact that Icompletely froze. All those things had to do was look like mymother and say some of her greatest hits and I was paralyzed untilyou trapped it in an elevator shaft. What greater display is therethat I’m utterly uselesshere, just like shesaid?”

“Useless?!,”The Doctor sputteredfor a few moments if only so he wouldn’t scream. Ragingat the entirety of reality for the simple fact that his best friendcould ever feel this way about herself wasn’t going to helpmatters, but god did he want to. “Donna, nobodyis useless, least ofall you! Freezing one time doesn’t negate the fact that youobjectively put so much goodinto the universe.I’ve frozen more than that during afternoon tea. Donna, there arepeople that are alive and happy and freetoday because youshowed up and decided to help them. There are ballads and sculpturesand choirs made about youbecause you made thedeliberate choice to be kind. How many people can say that?”

“Yeah,but that’s not cause of me, is it? That’s just a side effect oftraveling with you, right? That’s what youdo, you go and helpand make things better and if someone happens to be coming along,they’re gonna get creditno matter what.”

“No,what? Not even slightly.Donna, you’ve seenme at my default, and it’s not good. Remember the Racnoss? You saidI just stood there, like a stranger, and you were right. I wouldn’thave left if you hadn’t pulled me out of there. Pompeii?I wouldn’t havelooked back. I wouldn’t have acknowledged myown daughter ifit hadn’t been for you. The good that we do is a testament to you,to how truly andincredibly brilliant you are.”

TheDoctor let go of her hand so that he could throw his own up in theair. “And, by the way, what’s this nonsenseabout me onlytolerating you?! I askedyou totravel with me. Youthink I go around offering to show the wonders of the stars toanybody? To people I onlytolerate? Forone I’m certainly not polite enough to put up with people that areonly tolerable and for twoI interrupted your weddingafter only 3 weeks because I missed you too much.What about that says tolerance?”

Theyweren’t out of the woods, but it felt like a victory nonethelesswhen Donna gave a hint ofa smile and replied,“Honestly just thought you has a thing for crashing my weddings.”

It’s teasing. That’s good.“Doing something twice hardly means you have a thingfor it. And to befair, both of those weddings needed a good crashing.”

The Doctor expected a rebuttal,at the very least a solid, “oi”. Instead, he gets a oneshouldered shrug and a “suppose so.” Less good. He decided tokeep talking. He felt like he could sing Donna’s praises for days,but he didn’t know if or when those praises would be effective.

“Andanother thing, this whole meant to be here concept. You found me.Twice. Great big grand old universe, all of time and space, infinitecosmos, and just when I’ve lost someone, just when I’vemost needed someone, thereyou were. Donna Noble, my savior.”

Donna sniffed, and scrubbed ather face with her hands, and smiled. She was coming back to herself.“Isn’t it more the other way around? Imean, you quite literally saved me less than 20 minutes again.”

“Maybewe save each other. Maybe that’s what makes this whole arrangementwork so well. I…..I know there are some things from your past thatI can’t fix, but when it comes to your future? I’m just hoping tobe in it. You are welcome to go home, I won’t stop you, but knowthat if you ever leave the Tardis, if you ever go back, that’sgoing to have to be yourchoice, because I’mgoing to fight to keep you around as long as I can.”

Donna searched his features,looking for any hints of insincerity. When she found none, she letout a deep breath, and said, “Okay. Okay.No, of course I don’twant to go home, not permanently. I believe you promised me somethingabout an intergalactically renowned adventure cruise? Let’s hitthat up and see how many hours it takes before it all goeshorrendously wrong.”

Some of the cheer in her voicewas carefully manufactured, but it was all right, because soon enoughit wouldn’t be. Soon enough, they’d be off, traveling and helpingand picking up pieces, as they do. As long as they were together andmoving forward, it would be alright.

#Anonymous #donna noble #nat talks doctor who #nat drabbles

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

All Was Golden in the Sky (21/27)

Magic is dying.

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

To New York City.

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

—

Rating: Mature AN: Hey, thanks for reading this. For realz.

“Wait, wait, wait, where are we going?” Emma can’t move her feet quickly enough, far too many vines and low-hanging branches, but this kid – Henry, he said his name is Henry – appears to be picking up speed the more they walk. He doesn’t actually answer her, just nods his head and flashes a smile that’s probably supposed to be comforting.

She kind of feels like her eyes are going to fall out of her head.

And neither Killian nor Kristoff have sheathed their swords. “Is this a good idea?” Ariel asks, clearly trying to keep her voice low, but it comes out like a hiss and the whole jungle is making enough noise that Emma swears she can feel it reverberating in her. As if the whole jungle is entirely pissed off by what they’re doing.

She shrugs. “Do we have another choice? I mean, if there’s another person on this island--” “--Anna,” Kristoff cuts in, and Emma doesn’t have the heart to correct him. She’s doing her best to temper her own expectations, mostly because she’s a little worried that she’s going to break her ankle if they keep moving at this pace, but her eyes keep flitting towards Killian anyway and every bit of hope Emma swears is coursing through her system is reflected back on his face.

“We don’t know that,” she mutters. A branch nearly slams into her face. “Ah, fucking--ok, let’s just…”

She can’t see Henry anymore.

The birds are definitely getting louder, caws and cries and several different varieties of squawks, like they’re communicating or sending out warnings and Killian’s eyes widen when Emma glances his direction again.

“I don’t know,” he says, answering a question she hasn’t bothered to ask.

Kristoff practically growls. “Communicating silently is not helpful. And where in all hells did that kid go now?” “You’ve got to stop using that,” Killian mutters. “The all hells. It’s just...it doesn’t make any sense at all.” “And you’ve got a lot of experience with hell, do you, Captain?”

Killian’s eyes go impossibly narrow, all threat and a rather jarring lack of hope. “Stop talking.” Emma can’t help the sigh that falls out of her. It’s a strange sound, not entirely disappointment or anything except complete exhaustion, the magic in her turning to a low simmer or some other cooking pun that’s entirely out of place in the middle of goddamn Neverland. She feels like her skin is bubbling, steady ripples of power and emotion, a muddled mix of want and desire, a frustration she hasn’t been able to shake for what’s felt like years because those same years have been filled with curses and misunderstanding and she just wants to sit down.

She wants to sit and sleep and be, for just a few moments.

It’s not an option.

Her option is Savior. And prophecy. Her option is magic and control and repenting for every single mistake she’s ever made.

Apparently.

A never-ending stream.

Apparently.

“Swan,” Killian murmurs, and she doesn’t remember him turning in front of her. His gaze has shifted again, soft in a way that only really happens when he’s looking at her and whatever sound she makes when he brushes his finger across her cheek is as far removed from hero as it is possible to be.

“I’m ok.” “No, try that again.” “Fine.” “Emma.” “Fine,” she snaps, and it’s not fair. It’s the audible sound of all those emotions, sharp and abrasive and a dozen other decidedly negative adjectives that would also be appropriate when describing kitchen utensils.

She licks her lips when Killian blinks, a heavy silence that isn’t right either. The birds are far too loud for anything to be silent. His thumb is still on her cheek, a light pressure against her skin that Emma tries to focus on because everything else seems to be spinning and twisting, her eyes unable to fully adjust to the sky and the stars.

He smiles at her.

Not much, not really, just one side of his mouth tugging up, but it’s there and Emma sighs again. Her head falls forward slightly, the soft brush of Killian’s lips ghosting over her hair, trying to occupy the same few inches of space he is. She squirms against his chest, like that will let her move into him or something equally absurd, but Emma wants, wants, wants and she always has. Probably more than she should.

“Talk to me,” Killian says softly, and she nearly laughs. It comes out far more strangled than she’d like it to.

“That’s not fair at all.” “Desperate times and all that.”

“Have we reached that point?” “Eh. You’re avoiding, love.” “I’m fine,” Emma promises, and it’s only kind of a lie that’s only kind of obvious because he clicks his tongue in something resembling reproach. She tilts her head up, chin jutting out.”Not good, huh?” “Really, really bad.” “Exceptionally bad, honestly,” Ariel agrees. She’s leaning back against a tree, one leg pulled up slightly, and Kristoff only looks a little put-out by the whole scene. “Still crazy impressive magic, though. Are we trusting the kid, then?” Emma makes a noise in the back of her throat – neither an agreement nor otherwise. It hurts. Of course it does. And she glances towards Kristoff, his face going slack, disappointment wrapping around both his shoulders like it’s a visible thing.

Killian kisses her hair again.

She’s lost track of that particular number.

“I don’t know why I know,” Kristoff whispers. “And it’s--it’s crazy to think that it could be her, but--” “--When you love someone, you know,” Killian says, and Emma’s magic jumps. It makes her eyes fall shut, a blast of adrenaline to every single nerve ending she’s got, and her muscles feel like they’re never going to recover, but the whole thing is kind of romantic and maybe they can win on the power of positive thinking alone.

Mary Margaret’s going to be very disappointed she missed all of this.

Kristoff nods. “Yeah, exactly that.” “Oh, that was nice, Hook,” Ariel adds, and the words only sound a little teasing. “Tink? Anything to add?” Emma’s head jerks up at the inclusion of Tink, who’s barely strung two words together since they got her out of the trap. She’s staring at her shoes, fingers wringing together with enough nervous energy that it could probably do serious damage.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to answer,” Emma says. Nothing. Tink doesn’t lift her gaze or untangle her fingers, just keeps looking down, shoulders shaking when her breathing turns slightly erratic.

And Emma’s drifting very close to the precipice of furiously annoyed when she hears the crash behind her, hands flying up and swords moving on the edge of her vision, Ariel scrambling to get back on her feet with a distinct lack of grace.

Henry blinks. “What’s taking you guys so long?” “Gods,” Emma grumbles, hand flying to her chest and the ring hanging there. “Ok, kid, first rule of this--” “--Operation?” “What?” “Any good journey should have a name,” Henry says reasonably, and whatever noise Killian and Ariel make is oddly similar. “That’s how all the stories go.” Her magic does something. Emma has no idea what it does, but it leaves goosebumps on her skin and prickles of feeling in the tips of her fingers, an understanding she can’t place because she absolutely does not understand what the hell is going on.

Killian shrugs. “I’ve got no bloody idea.” “The mind reading thing,” Emma mutters, but she’s still kind of charmed by it. Always. Indefinitely. Forever.

Henry’s mouth twists when it’s clear they aren’t paying explicit attention to him, Emma mumbling a quiet apology, when she reaches a hand out towards him. He flinches. And, she supposes, that’s understandable. He’s been on that island for the Gods know how long, for reasons she hasn’t gotten around to asking about yet and whatever tears dot her vision are not for her.

They’re for this place.

And this magic.

And another group of people she has to save.

“What should we call this, Henry?” Ariel asks, doing her best to redirect the conversation with forced lightness.

He brightens immediately, a flash of smile that’s far more child than anything else and Emma is going to do something exceptionally royal to pay Ariel back for all of this. “Oh, that’s easy,” Henry says. “Operation: save Joan.” Kristoff is going to do permanent damage to his sword if he keeps dropping it like that.

“What did you say?” he rasps, trying, without much success, to wrap his fingers back around the dirt-covered hilt.

Henry furrows his brows. That’s fair. They’re not doing a very good job of presenting themselves as competent adults. “Joan,” he says slowly. “That’s her name.” “Where do we go, Henry? How far away are we?’ Can we get there now?” “Not that far. But, um---” He shakes his head, limbs flailing slightly when Ariel mutters another fish-related curse under her breath. “There’s some stuff.” “Stuff. What kind of stuff?” “Neverland stuff.” “So not good stuff,” Killian suggests, Henry humming in agreement. “Lady Bell,” he continues. “Did you have some kind of idea about this not so good stuff that we’re about to encounter?” Tinker Bell tenses. It’s, hands down, the strangest sentence Emma has ever thought.

Which is really saying something at this point.

“Oh, that’s not an immediate answer either,” Ariel points out. “Should we guess? Would that make it more fun, then?” Kristoff groans. “Can we not guess? Do we have to fight something? Destroy it? Slaughter things? I’ll be honest, I’m prepared to slaughter more than a few things.”

Killian scoffs at that, but Emma doesn’t look away from Tink – she’s still not breathing evenly, inhales that are far too large and exhales that seem to rattle their way out of her. She keeps chewing on her lower lip, alternating between twisting her fingers together and tugging on the side of her dress.

“It’s not a something, is it?” Emma asks, and Tink’s eyebrows jump. “You said it already. The island makes you relive your worst memories. So what do we have to do now? Watch it, instead of smell it?” Tink shakes her head. “No. And we haven’t timed it exactly right.” “That’s not my fault,” Henry grumbles, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt. Emma’s heart lurches. “And we’re pretty close, Tink! It’s almost midnight.” “How can you tell?” Ariel mutters.

Henry’s whole body shifts. He looks taller, suddenly, shoulders rolling back and it is a genuine miracle Emma’s heart manages to stay in her body. Because she knows that look. She knows every single one of the emotions that play across his face, has lived them, memories that have been knocking on the back of her consciousness since they’d gotten close enough to this infernal island for its magic to reach her.

Alone. Shivering. Without a second glance or an understanding look.

Lost.

A lost boy who’s been in Neverland far longer than he should.

She takes a step forward, slow and as unthreatening as she can make it, both hands held up like she’s approaching a frightened animal instead of a ten-year-old kid. His eyes widen, body tensing and mouth parting with a soft gasp as soon as Emma’s fingers curl around his shoulder.

“How long have you been here, Henry?”

He shakes his head, barely enough movement to even shift the far-too-long strands of hair near his brows. “I don’t know.” “But you’re not...you want to help us. What about Blackbeard?” “Him?” Henry squawks, and that head shake is a little more confident. Emma can feel Killian shift behind her, a heat that’s probably not actually there reaching out and brushing against the back of her neck. It takes her a second to realize it’s magic. Again, or whatever. “Nah. He wasn’t good. He was like the other one.” “Rumplestiltskin?” Henry hums, and Emma knows she doesn’t imagine the way he twists into her hand. “He wasn’t here long. He brought Joan and he--” His whole body shakes when he shivers. “He had other people with him. Bad people.” “And you can just tell who’s good and who’s bad, huh?” Killian asks. His hook finds the small of Emma’s back again, a slight press into her skin that might be a question or more misplaced hope. She leans back.

“Sometimes,” Henry shrugs. “Mostly I’m just really good at figuring out where people fit in.” “Into what?” “The story.” Emma is thankful for the hook. She’s fairly positive it’s the only thing that’s keeping her upright, resting most of her weight on it and the arm that wraps around her suddenly, Killian’s chest shifting against her back as soon as she stumbles backwards.

“What do you mean, Henry?” she asks, only a little guilty when she ignores Kristoff’s cries of protest. She knows this is important.

It’s definitely getting brighter out. And later. This island makes absolutely no sense.

Henry makes a wholly child-like sound, lips curling and hands waving through the air. “I’m good at telling stories,” he says, and Emma has to look down to make sure her magic hasn’t turned her phosphorescent. She’s only glowing slightly. So, that’s a win. “Ms. Joan likes them.” “You talked to her a lot?” Kristoff croaks, another shrug and Henry’s starting to look almost comfortable around them. “What did you talk about?” “Oh, loads of stuff. She told me about the trees where she was from. How different they were from here. The leaves don’t hang like ours, you know?”

Kristoff nods, a quiet hum that’s more hope and Tink’s eyes are starting to resemble pinball machines. Something about this is wrong.

Emma wishes that would stop happening.

“She’d tell me things and I’d put them in my story,” Henry continues. “It doesn’t always work though. That’s what Rumplestiltskin said when he found me. He said I wasn’t ready.” “Ready for what?” Killian asks, and there’s no mistaking the venom in his voice.

“He never really explained it. But I think it’s what I can do.” “And that is?” “Tell things,” Henry answers simply. “Some of the other boys like it. When they’re not--well, can you hear them?” Killian nods. “They’re sad and lonely and that makes it difficult for them to believe sometimes. They forget.” “Forget,” Ariel echoes. “Forget what?” “Home. Everybody should have a home, don’t you think?” “I do.” “And what about you, Henry?” Emma asks. “You never forgot home?” He shakes his head. “Ms. Joan helped. She’d tell me about her home and it--it sounded like the place I was from. So I’d put it in the story. Mixed our homes and I tried to get us there sometimes, but I don’t think Neverland really liked it much. It always hurt when I couldn’t do it the right way.” “Wait, wait, I’m confused,” Ariel says, Kristoff muttering that makes two of us behind her. “Henry, do you have magic?” That makes him freeze again, an obvious surprise and possible overstep because he kind of looks freaked out. “No,” he says quickly. “I just--it doesn’t work. Not always. I couldn’t get Ms. Joan back home.” “What did you try to do?” Kristoff asks. His voice isn’t quite as gruff as it’s been, a quiet entreaty to it that makes Emma wonder how her heart is going to survive this entire trip.

“She told me about the trees.” “Yeah, we get that, kid,” Emma mutters. “But you said you could take what people told you and put it in your story. Does your story---is it alive?” Henry’s lips press together tightly, the clench of his teeth obvious and no one has ever blinked that much in the history of any realm, magic or otherwise. “Ok, ok,” Emma presses, trying to figure out what question to ask next, but none of this makes much sense and--”When the Dark--” She nearly bites her tongue in half, a grunt and gasp, the press of Killian’s hook cold when it finds its way under her shirt. “When Rumpelstiltskin was here, did he say anything about you having magic?” “No.” Emma narrows her eyes, the skin on her cheek tingling like the lie has reached out and slapped her. “Let’s do that one more time, huh? When you tell these stories, can you feel something? Like--like it’s warm?” Henry stares at her like she’s crazy. That’s fair. Emma feels a little crazy.

“I just talk,” Henry sputters, voice rising until it cracks on the final few letters. “I--I listen to Ms. Joan when I can get in and---that Rumplestiltskin he didn’t like her. He said she had to stay here so no one would know the truth and the man that was with him--” “--Just one man? “I didn’t like him.” “Neither did we,” Killian mumbles. “He wrote her--Ms. Joan, I mean, did he write her into wherever you’re leading us?” Henry blinks. And looks a little impressed. Killian may actually be blushing. “Yeah,” Henry breathes. “He--he had this pen and he didn’t like me. Rumplestiltskin thought I was interesting, but that other man. He looked at me like I was wrong.” “Not wrong, kid,” Emma promises. “Just better than him.” Ariel sighs. “Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” “That’s how he got to the Land Without Magic,” Killian explains. “Rumplestiltskin. He found this man--Isaac, who could write people into situations. The kind of magic that could change everything, cross realms and land right inside the Storybrooke town line. That’s how it worked, isn’t it, Swan?” “He was very dramatic though,” Emma grouses. “Lots of rolling fog and bright lights to make it look like Rumplestiltskin was more powerful than he was.” “Hold on, hold on,” Kristoff stammers. “You’re telling me this Isaac idiot is the one who brought Anna here? Why?” “That’s probably a question she could answer,” Emma says, expecting the glare she gets for her bit of misplaced sarcasm.

She exhales, mind still racing and jumping from point to point and she can’t quite figure out what Henry is. So, naturally, Killian asks about it.

“Henry,” he says slowly, and she can practically hear the metaphorical gears creaking when his tongue swipes the front of his teeth, “where did you come from? It wasn’t this realm, was it?” Emma’s left leg buckles. Just her left leg. It is absurd.

And Henry looks torn somewhere between dazed and astounded, mouth hanging open and face turning as hopeful as anything Emma has ever seen. He’s practically radiating with it, a low thrum of noise that makes the birds shift above them and the leaves flutter around them and it clicks. Quickly. Suddenly. Obviously.

“He believes in what he’s saying,” Emma whispers, Killian’s quiet hum of agreement barely audible over the rush of her own magic and the continued twist of her left knee. “That’s what it is, isn’t it?” “It’s an educated guess on my part, Swan, but, uh--aye, I think that’s what it is.” “You’re all magical jerks who communicate in code,” Ariel shouts. “What does believing in things have to do with anything? And where is Henry from?” Henry shuffles again, rocking his weight between his feet. “I hadn’t been there long,” he says. “There were a lot of houses and I was--I was tired of it. I wanted a family. I wanted...I wanted someone to want me, but this place it wasn’t that. It was bad. It was dark and cold and the grown-ups there didn’t seem to really care what happened. So, um---” “--Did you run?” Emma asks, already knowing the answer. Henry nods. “Where?” “As far as I could go. But it was cold and I was hungry and I--I heard something.”

“What kind of something?” “I don’t know,” Henry admits. “But it was loud and it was...it scared me. I didn’t really know where I was anymore and I wanted to figure out what was happening.” “Brave lad,” Killian mutters, drawing a loud scoff out of Ariel. Tink is staring at the sky now – like she’s waiting for something to happen. “What did you see?” “A giant circle. Right in the middle of the ground. And I--I thought I saw someone walking away, thought they might be able to help me, so I kept walking and I just...got yanked back.” Emma wants to say something other than what. She really does, but that seems impossible and her lips are already parting to form the word again. The word never makes it out of her throat.

Killian’s whole body sags, the burst of air that flies out of his chest practically dripping with regret and it clicks. Again. And even worse.

“That’s not possible,” he argues, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself. “That’s not how portals work. I’m not--” “That’s not your fault, babe,” Emma says. She knows the sentiment falls on deaf ears, can see the way his face crumples as soon as she turns towards him, a hand on his chest and the other hanging in the air just above his jaw.

“It was always dicey magic, Hook,” Ariel reasons. Killian doesn’t move. It doesn’t look like he’s breathing. “What about Ursula, though?” Emma blinks her. “What about her?” “Well, she’s able to control the water, right? That’s why I knew she’d be able to find Lake Nostos and make sure it got the bean back, but what if she did something else?” “Aside from cursing me?” Killian growls, and Ariel does not look impressed. “Yes, Hook, aside from that. Nostos brings things back to life, makes them powerful again. What if that did something else to the bean, something even Ursula didn’t expect?” “Like keeping a portal open longer than usual?” Emma ventures. “That seems like kind of a reach, doesn’t it?” “I’m trying to find some bright spots here.” Emma sighs, her own brand of regret in the sound. “Yeah, I know. I just--oh damn.” “That sounds promising.” “Henry, how soon after you got here did Ms. Joan show up?

“Not long,” Henry says, screwing one eye shut when he tries to remember. “It’s tough to keep track of time here, though.” “Right, right, ok, so, bright spot? I think the portal stayed open for Henry.” Killian makes a contrary noise, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek when he shakes his head. “Swan, that doesn’t--” “--Ok, if you're going to do this whole blaming yourself thing for the rest of the day, I’m going to get really annoyed.” His tongue moves. It’s distracting. “He just told us he was looking for a way out of the piece of garbage situation he was in. You gave him that, babe.” “And sent him to Neverland!”

“But that didn’t stop him believing,” Emma argues, and she can feel it, the certainty that she’s right surging through every single organ she has. Her fingers brush across Killian’s cheek. “And I think Ariel’s on the right track. Nostos brings things back, makes them strong and--” She twists, smiling at Henry. “It made your ability to believe even stronger, kid. So strong that you could bring it to life, visualize that and keep the other people here believing too. And, I think, help us all get out of here.”

Emma’s smile is wide enough that it hurts her cheeks, a quick nod like that’s proven her point and no one says anything. Not a single word. That, admittedly, kind of sucks.

“You think I’ve got magic?” Henry whispers, barely mumbling the words out.

Emma blinks back more tears that aren’t for her, far too much prophecy and fate and everything falling into place because she’s fairly certain this kid has been waiting for them. She breathes deeply, doing her best to look comforting when she moves forward again, dropping to her knees and ignoring how quickly the mud moves through the fabric of her pants.

Henry licks his lips, refusing to meet her gaze, until––Emma exhales, measured and, at least, four seconds long, lifting her hand to cup his cheek. And that’s all it takes. His legs give up and his body shakes, soft sobs because no one should be on this island and she probably doesn't have any right to be as proud of him as she is.

She manages to keep her balance when Henry falls forward, head burrowing into the side of her neck when Emma wraps both her arms around his middle. She’s never been particularly good at this – comfort or support, but the words fall out of her with relative ease, the hand that brushes across the back of her hair making it a little easier.

“It’s ok,” Emma promises, letting her fingers drag up Henry’s back until she can cup his head, holding her against him like that’ll prove how much she means it. “It’s going to be ok. Nothing is going to happen to you anymore.”

“We won’t let it,” Killian adds. He has to shift his coat slightly to move down to their level, and it shouldn’t make Emma’s magic leap the way it does. That’s never really mattered though. “I’m so sorry, my boy.”

Her magic is a goddamn symphony – soft light at the end of her hair and the tips of her fingers, circling around her wrist and ghosting over the lapels of a coat she may actually be starting to like again. Time is cyclical like that, she supposes, but Emma’s mostly focused on possessive pronouns and possibilities and she’s apparently thinking in alliteration now.

“Ok,” Henry nods against Emma’s collarbone, leaving damp marks on her shirt and her skin. She doesn’t let go of him. “But---” “But?”

“Even if what you think is right and I can--” He waves his hands over Emma’s head, nearly elbowing her in the process. “The stories didn’t always work. It’d be kind of...half there. I could never actually get anyone out of here.” “Did you try?” Kristoff asks archly, Emma twisting to glare at him. He blinks.

“Sometimes,” Henry says. “But it’s hard. It’s--” “--Everyone needs to believe him,” Emma whispers, wonder clouding her voice when she realizes what she’s got to do. “And he just needs a little spark.” Kristoff kicks something. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” “Swan--” Killian starts, but she shakes her head deftly. The exhaustion is still clinging to her, trying to pull on her and douse the bits of light she’s created, a mix of her own fear and worry and whatever this goddamn island is capable of. She tugs Henry back against her side.

“No, no, this is part of the gig, right?” “It’s not exactly top-billing.” “That was funny.” “Aye, it happens.” He sighs, fingers tugging on the back of his hair, and Emma knows he wants to argue more. He doesn’t. So, more points.

Kristoff is going to single-handedly destroy the Neverland ecosystem. He lands another pretty impressive kick to the nearest tree trunk, staring at them with barely filtered anger. “Ok, now that we know the kid isn’t actually going to turn on us and will, maybe--” “--Definitely,” Emma interrupts sharply. “Can we go save my fiancé now?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Henry cries, trying to use Emma as leverage and Killian has to catch him around the waist to keep him from running forward. “Are you the one Ms. Joan talked about?” He pauses mid-kick, Ariel’s laugh ringing out around them. “Oh, this is actually very romantic.”

“I hope so,” Kristoff breathes. “I--” Henry grins, nodding back towards the jungle he’s already ventured into. “It’s not that much farther and we’re running out of time.” And Emma is almost confident until she hears those words, a flutter of dread in several different pulse points. Killian snaps his head towards her. “Menacing, huh?” he mutters, lacing his fingers through hers as they follow behind Henry.

“A requirement it seems. Tinker Bell,” she adds, and the fairy nearly flies through the air. That’s probably an insensitive thing to think, really. “Why were you so worried all of this?” “I’m not.” “Oh, real bad. Definitely the worst lie we’ve heard so far today.” “By a rather large margin,” Killian chips in, lifting a branch up so Emma can duck underneath it without threat to any part of her face. “Your highness.” “Gods, the flirting has got to stop,” Ariel yells. She’s more than a few feet behind them, fingers curled around the back of Kristoff’s sword belt so she can keep her footing.

“It really is kind of ridiculous,” Kristoff says. “And you’re giving Tinker Bell an opportunity to keep deflecting her answer.” He turns on Tink, several inches and muscle, Ariel still clinging to his back with an expectant look on her face. “I hate to suggest that your current record is not very good, ma’am, but--well, you did wind up in a net earlier today.” “I’m not leading you into a trap if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Tink sneers. “Strange, is that what it sounded like?”

“This is worse than their flirting,” Ariel mutters, an impatient-sounding Henry standing at the mouth of a cave that absolutely was not there two seconds earlier. “Holy seashells.” “Fisk, that doesn’t make sense,” Killian says. She snarls at him.

“C’mon,” Henry yells, bobbing on the balls of his feet. “We don’t have a lot of time. The Echo Cave only opens when the stars are in the right spot.” Emma lifts her eyebrows, gaze darting back towards Tinker Bell. “And that position is midnight? Honestly?” “I didn’t make the rules.” “Just don’t like explaining them.” “Let’s get inside first.”

Emma grumbles, but she doesn’t actually object, following Henry and his shouts and she can’t help but let her shoulders sag when she takes in the scene around them. It is, in fact, a cave, high walls that shimmer slightly from residual condensation, stalagmites or the other ones, Emma’s not all that concerned with proper names, hanging from the ceiling and rising up from the ground. A ground that is very far beneath them.

She can’t decide what to look at. Every thing appears worse than the last, a vast expanse of nothing stretching out between the lot of them and the tiny pillar of rock in the middle of it all. There’s a cage sitting on top, a shadow that Emma can barely make out because the air is doing that thing again and she’s having a difficult time staying focused.

“Anna,” Kristoff cries, lunging forward and both Henry and Tink make matching sounds. She steps into his space, clearly mismatched, but that same determination from earlier is back in her gaze and his chest heaves against her palms.

The cave walls shake.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Killian mumbles, reaching for Emma. She squeezes his hand tight enough she’s likely leaving nail-shaped marks on his skin, but he doesn’t tell her to stop.

“What is happening?” she asks. “How the hell are we supposed to get to her? Is that even actually Anna?”

“Kristoff?!” The voice isn’t loud – scratchy at best, but there’s enough emotion there that it’s obvious who’s fingers are wrapped around the rung of that cage. “Anna,” Kristoff shouts, another leap forward and he nearly steps on Tink in the process.

“You can’t do that,” she scolds, pressing up on her toes. So she can slap him.

“Holy shit,” Emma gaps. “Alright, can we not resort to attacking each other?” “He can’t keep moving like that. The cave is going to react.” “The menacing has really got to stop. What does that mean?” “The cave,” Tink repeats, waving her free through the air. “Can you not feel that? “ Emma opens her mouth – an undeniably snarky and less-than-thought-out retort on the tip of her tongue, but Killian answers before she can actually begin to formulate words. “I’ve heard of magic like that,” he mutters, a note of something in his voice that makes her shiver. “Eye for an eye. Tit for tat.” “Wait, wait,” Emma stammers. “You think we have to give something up? Like what?”

Tink hisses. “A piece of yourself.” “I’m sorry, what?” “How do you do that?” Ariel asks, the question shaking its way out of her. It’s getting darker in that cave. And they’re running out of midnight. “This place doesn’t expect us to chop off our own limbs, does it?” “No, no, nothing that archaic.” “Small miracles,” Emma grumbles. She doesn’t remember moving, standing perpendicular to Killian with her shoulder pressing into his chest and his cheek resting on the side of her head. Her arms wrap around her middle, trying to contain the magic roaring in the very center of her, but that’s a fool’s errand and she understands. Again. It’s the worst. “It is like before, isn’t it? Reliving our worst memories?” “Like that,” Tink agrees. “It wants a secret. Your darkest secret, words and thoughts you’d never admit out loud.” “Fuck, that’s the most ridiculous sentence I’ve ever heard. Deepest secrets though? That seems a little--” “--I’ll go,” Ariel says, squaring her shoulders and Emma’s not entirely surprised. She takes a deep breath when she stops, pressing her arms into her side and nodding once. “I knew Hook was back. The entire royal family of Misthaven had returned and I--I thought about finding him, but it wasn’t until there was this,” she glances over her shoulder, flashing a tremulous smile, “another quest, right? And, I--I missed that. The danger and the darkness and all of it. I know I shouldn’t and you’re so much better now than you were, Hook. Gods, the way you look at her. It’s--but I thought maybe it could be like it had been. Adventure at our feet.”

The cave shakes again, but, this time, instead of sounding like it’s falling down on top of them, the ground stretches out, several feet of stone. It’s not nearly enough to get to Anna, but it’s proof positive that they’re on the right track.

Kristoff curses quietly, pulling Ariel back away from the edge. “I want to save Arendelle,” he murmurs, “get rid of Hans and help Elsa reclaim her throne, but I’d give up all of that to keep Anna safe. I’d--the people in Arendelle couldn’t fight. Not after Elsa was gone and I think most of them just chose to believe she was dead. It was easier that way. I’d--I wouldn’t mind a little easy at this point.”

Another shake, more stone and there are tears on his face when he lifts his head, the weight of his admission leaving him gasping for air.

“I hated her,” Tink says suddenly, an unexpected addition to whatever twisted honesty hour they’re staging. Emma’s eyes bug, a quick swallow and Killian gasps when her nails break the skin on his hand. “The blue fairy,” Tink continues. “She was--maybe still is, in charge of the fairies and I--I knew I was breaking the rules, but I didn’t care. I wanted to help and she wouldn’t let me. Now, I--” She pauses to drag the back of her knuckle under her eye. “Oh, I’ve been here too long,” she whispers. “I’d rip her wings off If I could and I’d enjoy it.”

The stone gets longer – nearly enough to reach Anna, but there’s still far too much open space and none of them do, actually, have wings. Emma’s mouth goes dry. “I don’t--” she starts, but Killian spins her back towards him, eyes impossibly blue and-- “We didn’t have to break to it,” he says. “The curse. We could have stayed. In that realm and that city. Gone on that date. Ignored Times Square completely. I--almost wish we hadn’t. That it could just be that simple, two people who are--” “--Aren’t we?” Emma asks, not sure what her interruption will do to the magic or the goddamn cave, but she can’t quite cope with the way he’s staring at her, like this is the worst thing he’s ever thought. It may be the worst thing she’s ever thought. Her willingness to want it, to miss the jacket and the library chairs and cinnamon in her coffee.

“I wasn’t here for the magic, Swan, but sometimes I wish the magic wasn’t here at all either.” His teeth find his lower lip as soon as the words are out of him, letters and syllables that stretch out that final bit of stone. Emma closes her eyes, letting go of a breath when her head drops forward, and for a moment they’re nothing more that that – tangled limbs and magic that was and wasn’t and won’t ever go away, her heart thumping in her chest hard enough that it feels like it’s bruising her rib cage.

And that might not be wrong.

“Ah,” Emma groans, hand flying towards her chest. “What the--” Her knees buckle with the flash of pain that sparks in her, another cry that sounds far too shrill to have actually come out of her.

Killian’s hand and hook move quickly, trying to pull her up or, at least, keep her steady, the fear that laces his voice sounding impossibly far away. “Swan, Emma, love, what--” “--The island doesn’t want her here,” Tink says simply. “And it will demand more than a simple statement from her to get across that bridge.” “Like hell, she’s crossing that bridge!” “Yes, not until she concedes to what the magic demands.” Killian gapes at her, unsteady breathing and anxious hands. The bridge shakes precariously, as if it’s trying to prove its under a time limit, and Henry groans softly behind them. “I think it’s almost over,” he warns. “Ms. Joan, can you get the door open?” Anna ignores the question. “Get out of here! All of you! If you get stuck in here--” “--I’m not leaving without you,” Kristoff objects. “That’s not an option!” He tries to run forward, but the first step on the bridge sends him flying back, a burst of magic that Emma swears she can hear and she can’t seem to do much more than claw at the sides of Killian’s jacket. “No, no,” she mumbles. “It’s got to be me.”

“Emma, no, we’re not doing this again,” Killian says. “You said you wouldn’t. No more sacrifices or danger and--” “--That’s not really how it works, babe. Part and parcel of the whole Savior thing.” “Fuck that, I’m not letting you go.” He says it with such conviction that, for a moment, Emma allows herself to believe it. She revels in it, the way he looks at her and that one piece of hair hanging across his forehead, still there, probably, just to torment her and make her pulse sputter.

She tries to smile. It doesn’t feel like it works.

“I love you.” “Swan, that’s--” She cuts him off, a quick press of her lips against his that leaves Killian half-chasing after her and Emma tries to focus on that when she turns back towards Tink. “What do you think I have to do, then?” “You’re stronger than the island,” Tink answers. “It doesn’t appreciate being challenged like that. So--” She nods towards the hand that has, somehow, wrapped around her ring. “You have to give up your biggest strength. And that’s how much you love, Emma.” The blood rushes from her face. She can feel it. It makes her vision swim and her head feel light, as if she’s running out of oxygen and that might not be all that far off, honestly, depending on what time it is and what kind of schedule this cave sticks to.

Emma’s dimly aware of Killian objecting – voice rising and Ariel trying to calm him down, but the walls are starting to shake again and Henry’s looking more than a little anxious and she’s not entirely sure how to do this. So she acts on instinct.

Again. And always.

She takes a deep breath and plunges her own hand into her chest.

It’s surprisingly not uncomfortable.

Mostly there just doesn’t seem to be enough room for all the things Emma’s body is now trying to hold and the addition of her fist makes it difficult to actually take a deep breath, but all in all, it’s not the worst thing she’s ever done.

Emma grits her teeth, twisting her hand and trying to find the right organ and she can’t help but gasp when something squishes in her grip. “Oh shit, that’s gross,” she mumbles, drawing an absurd sound out of Killian.

“Are you kidding me, right now?” She clicks her tongue – mostly to focus on that instead of the far-too-familiar sound of a heart being yanked out of a human being. Henry runs forward, slamming into Killian’s side with a trust that’s incredibly new, but also not entirely uncomfortable.

Killian wraps his arm around his shoulders.

And Emma barely notices, eyes falling towards the still-beating heart in her palm. It’s red, a brightness to it that gives her a questionable amount of confidence, but there are a few dots of darkness, a swirl in what may be the left ventricle that gives her pause and--

“You’ve got to go Savior,” Tink says, furtive glances towards the barely-open cave mouth. Anna is still trying to get them to leave.

“Right, right,” Emma nods. She thrusts her hand forward, Killian’s eyes widening and brows jumping. “Here,” she says, well aware that the whole thing is kind of maudlin. “It’s always been yours anyway.”

Killian chokes out a laugh that’s more like another exhale, gaze going glossy. He holds his hand out anyway. “This better work.” “I’ll be right back.” And really they don’t have time. Her heart is in his hand. But Emma feels his hook catch her around the wrist, pulling her up short before she’s even gotten a step closer to the bridge and it’s a very strange thing. She tilts her head up, knowing that the kiss is inevitable and it’ll be good and comforting and a slew of other very positive and decidedly romantic adjectives.

She doesn’t really feel them, though.

She feels the brush of his lips, the quick swipe of his tongue, all desperate and terrified because this has to all end eventually, they’ll get to be two people and their own people and each other’s people, but that’s obviously not now and Emma has to think about how to respond.

She pulls away, can see the flicker of disappointment in Killian’s gaze and her smile isn’t right.

“Go,” Killian mutters. “I’ll--”

The rest of the sentence gets caught in another tremor, more than a few pieces of stone falling into the chasm underneath the bridge and Emma runs. She tries to keep her weight on her toes, darting forward quick enough that her calves ache and her lungs burn, skidding to a stop in front of a woman with dark bags under her eyes and dirt caked under her nails.

Her hair still manages to catch a bit of light though.

And some of that light is coming from between Emma’s fingers.

“Are you Anna?” she asks, a silly question that warrants an even sillier laugh.

“Was that not obvious?” “It’s been a very long--I don’t know, life. I just..I just want to make sure we’re not bringing back the wrong person or evil in disguise or something.” “My name is Anna, my parent’s name were Gerda and Agnarr. My sister is Elsa. She was with your--what is George to you?” “A nightmare that gets dimmer the longer I’m awake.” Anna blinks, eyeing Emma like she’s looking for the lie and is only a little pleased to never find it. “Here,” she adds, tugging on a chain around her neck. She brandishes the snowflake that hangs there, an unspoken challenge to Emma that she doesn’t have any interest in. “My sister. She’s got a very similar one, doesn’t she?” Emma nods. “Yeah, she does.” “I want to find my sister. That’s how I ended up here.”

“I don’t--”

Anna huffs, tongue darting between her lips as Emma tries to figure out the the door to this cage. “Henry must have told you. I--the Dark One brought me here. Or, at least the man I thought was the Dark One.”

Emma freezes. “You didn’t know?” “Not until it was too late. The meeting with Blackbeard was a trap. I was no closer to finding Elsa and then I heard rumors that there’d been a curse and Misthaven was gone and I was running out of options. So I decided to try and find the Dark One. I’d found my parent’s old notes and they’d been looking for him before.” “What?” “To try and figure out what was wrong with Elsa.” “There’s nothing wrong with Elsa,” Emma snaps, Tink yelling something about time and a distinct lack of it.

“I know that. And you know that. But my parents were--they were scared. No one’s ever had magic like that in Arendelle. They went to the Rock Trolls for help, but they couldn’t do anything and then--” She has to catch her breath. “I didn’t know,” Anna whispers. “I was young and our parents left. They got on a ship and they were gone and then they never came back, but I found the notebook and I think--well, I think that’s why Elsa never tried to get back.” “You think she found out,” Emma breathes. “About your parents and the Dark One. That’s why she went to George? To try and fight him?”

“I do. I--she never trusted her magic, did her best to hide it because my parents thought it was dangerous. I think she was looking for answers.” “But you still sought him out? Even after all that?” “You were gone,” Anna shouts. “Kristoff was bound to a pirate ship. I didn’t have a lot of other options. I thought he might know where she was. Only I finally found him and the Dark One wasn’t that, was just a man without any magic and the certainty that I needed to be taken care of and the next thing I knew I was here.” “I’m sorry.” Anna scoffs. “You’re sorry? What happened in Misthaven?” “George was working with the Dark One,” Emma says, a lack of emotion in her voice she’ll probably blame on her heart eventually. “The whole time. He was...we were all being lied to.” “Shit.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. So, uh...well, we’re here to save you. We’ve got some magic and a pirate ship in a bottle and--”

She cuts herself off when Henry yells her name, a shrill cry that makes her spin on the spot and Emma has to admit she’s not entirely prepared for what she sees. Because they’ve clearly run out of time.

There’s no opening at the end of the cave anymore, half a dozen shadows moving towards them, but her eyes barely linger there before she’s yanking on the front of the cage, a burst of strength that’s nothing more than adrenaline at this point. She tosses the stupid thing over the side of the bridge and her footsteps aren’t quite as light this time, pounding down stone like she’s going downhill.

Anna collides with Kristoff almost immediately, arms wrapped around her middle and toes dragging across the ground because she wasn’t wearing any shoes. “I’m alright, I’m alright,” she chants, grunting softly when he tightens his hold. “Gods, you’re really here, right?” “Here, I’m here,” Kristoff says.

It’s nice enough that Emma almost forgets, but then the whole world appears to shake under them and--”Killian,” she yells, falling to her knees, more pain than she’s entirely ready for. It explodes out of the center of her, directly where her heart should be.

“Emma!” He dodges forward, handing her heart to Henry and trying to move into her space, but that only makes everything hurt more, “No, no, bloody hell. None of it worked.” “Just get my heart back. It’s--” Whatever else she’s about to say dissolves into a scream, barely able to keep her head upright and she can just make out Killian’s left boot move. That’s as far as he gets. There are flames around him, a circle of fire and flicker of heat, lapping at the side of his legs and the ends of his coat. “Killian!”

“Get your heart,” he bites out. “Now, Swan.” Emma shakes her head, not sure if it’s a disagreement or general disbelief. She’s breathing heavily, every soft whimper Killian makes leaving her gasping and Ariel has both her eyes closed. There’s smoke in the air now.

She really has no idea how she stands up. It takes every ounce of everything she’s got in her – which is saying quite a lot since there doesn’t appear to be much of a pulse without her heart, legs that feel like they’re also made of stone, but Emma gets to her feet and she will eventually wish she was more graceful about the whole thing.

She shoves him.

Hard.

It works, though. And Killian brings her with him, falling out of the flames and huffing as soon as Emma’s entire body weight lands on his chest, hair in his face and fingers finding their way under her shirt.

The door to the cave opens.

“What the hell is that?” Emma demands.

“Magic for magic,” Killian whispers, and she can’t hear anything except wonder in his voice. It’s nice, after all this time. “True Love, Swan. Emma, you chose me, that was the test. The island can’t object to that.” “God, fuck this place.” He laughs, pulling her closer to him and dragging his mouth against her jaw. It will probably feel better once she’s got a heart again, but it still manages to feel pretty nice and they’re not done yet. “Aye, love, that’s exactly it.”

“So, uh,” Anna starts. “What happens now?”

Emma lifts her head, letting her chin rest on Killian’s shoulder and Henry flashes her a nervous smile. “I don’t know if it’ll work,” he mutters. “You can do it,” Emma promises. “You’ve just got to believe and you’ve got that in spades.” “Misplaced reference,” Killian whispers in her ear. He hisses when she shakes on top of him.

And Henry still looks worried, but then then Anna’s moving, a soft tut as soon as Kristoff tries to follow. She smiles, a bit of her own belief in the movement and Henry gasps as soon as her fingers find his. “When I was little,” she says, “my sister and I used to sneak into the forest. The trees were so tall there, like they were their own castle. And the air was always so crisp. It would hurt at first, cold enough to make goosebumps pop on your skin, but then it was almost nice, a stillness that made us feel like we were the only people in the world.” Henry’s eyes have fallen closed, lips moving with unspoken words. Anna keeps going. “The snow drifts always seemed enormous. Getting to the top was our favorite game, sliding down and--” She sniffles, lips tugged behind her teeth and it isn’t easy for Emma to get back to her feet again. She reaches her hand towards Anna’s free one, her other fingers curled around Killian’s hook until they’re a string of limbs and stories, memories and moments. “Sometimes Elsa would freeze them, make them into slides so we could get down quicker and oh, I bet you could hear our laughter for miles.” “Elsa?” Henry asks, one eye cracking open.

“That’s my sister. I--my name isn’t Joan, Henry. I’m...I’m Anna and I’m from Arendelle.” The light that flares around them is as blinding as it is warm, a sudden rush that’s the exact opposite of any of the oppressive heat they’ve felt in Neverland. It’s like early-morning sun and the kind of comfort from a good night’s rest and blankets that are soft as silk. It’s home and safety and belief.

In its purest form.

The cave walls start to disappear, the light growing and both Anna and Henry are talking now, Emma doing her best to focus her magic. She whispers her own words under her breath, promises and her hopes, and the air around them smells different.

Like pine trees.

There are pine trees around them and a silhouette in the distance that’s larger than anything they saw in Neverland.

“Is that a castle?” Ariel asks, Anna letting out a whoop of triumph. Henry sways on his feet, both Emma and Killian moving in tandem. He falls into Killian’s arms, not objecting to being lifted up, while Emma’s hand presses into his back.

“You’re alright, my boy, you’re alright,” Killian mutters. “It’s ok. You did it.” Ariel scoffs. “Where are we?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Anna asks. “Arendelle. We’re home.”

#cs ff #captain swan #all was golden in the sky #that stupid witch fic #this turned very captain cobra swan real quick #lemme tell you

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littlemisssquiggles · 5 years

Note

Another question that has been floating in my mind for quite some time now: what do you think is Oscar's Semblance (aside from Magic since I consider that one something different - I mean, Raven is able to wield Magic and a Semblance after all) or in which direction could it go? And another question on top of that: since Oscar's soul should be the combination of many different souls after the merge, do you think he might be able to wield multiple Semblances? ... Okay, that was long, sorry :x

Hello Mizu! Believe it or not, another FNDM fam member asked me this type ofquestion before and I created a Pinehead headcanon from it. For the sake of not repeating the same answers (since it was a long answer XD), I’m going to link you to that response post right here.

But if you’re looking for the nutshell version:

What do you think is Oscar’s semblance?

For a while, my main choice for Oscar’s semblance was Nullification—the ability to cancel out the effects of another’s semblance and/or prevent them from using their semblance for a period of time. I had based this theory on information shared about Princess Ozma from the Wizard of Oz series in ThatKaitoDan’s RWBY video essay on Oscar’s Great and Powerful Semblance. It was stated in Dan’s theory video that Princess Ozma, being a powerful magician and rightful ruler of Oz, possessed the ability to relinquish abilities from others.

Going off of that, I came up with the theory of Oscar possessing a similar type of power. The power to stop another from using their semblance for a short period of time and/or in more serious cases, even take away their ability to use their semblance permanently via doing something with their soul or something to that liking. I figured this would’ve been a cool power for Oscar to have, not to mention a very powerful one.

And as highlighted back in V6, it is possible for a semblance use to wield that kind of power. Mercury mentioned that his father was able to ‘steal’ his semblance away. If it’s possible for others to share the same type of semblance then it would be great for this to be something Oscar can do. Another reason why I think this power could work well for Oscar is because I have this theory where Oscar would be the one to restore Mercury’s semblance. And in exchange for helping him, Mercury will become an ally of Oscar’s. After all, if Oscar has the power to take away one’s semblance then surely, with practice, the reverse could be possible too. I dunno. If I had to pick an actual ‘semblance’ for Oscar, nullification is my top choice.

However, as you’re already aware of, this squiggle meister has moved away from the idea of Oscar eveb having a semblance. This ties into my answer to the next question.

Do you think Oscar might be able to wield multiple semblances since he is a combination of many different souls?

On the contrary, my answer is the opposite. I think Oscar CAN’T have a semblance BECAUSE he is a combination of multiple souls. One’s semblance is described as the projection of their aura into a more tangible form. One’s semblance is said to be unique to them since it’s a power that is a reflection of their soul. Their very being.

To me, I now think it might be impossible for someone in Oscar’s predicament to possess a semblance. Semblances are abilities born from one’s soul basically and is meant to represent who they are, so to speak (according to what Ren said back in V4).

But in Oscar’s case, how could that be probable? He’s NOT just onesoul. He’s one soul plus many more. He’s another life in a culmination of many different lives destined to serve humanity.

Ozpin himself mentioned that both his and Oscar’s souls are currently combined. So…how would Oscar be able to have his own unique power that isprojection of his very soul when he doesn’t have one soul. Not anymore.

As sad as it is to say, Oscar isn’t his own person. He’s not just one person. Not one soul.

I actually dislike the thought of Oscar wielding more than one semblance due to his many lives. As OP as that sounds, I feel like that’s a bit of cheating. Sure it’ll be a power unique to Oscar and it’ll surely make him powerful, yes. However, I find that to be boring and honestly not what I pictured for Oscar.

I mean…if the show manages to take that and run it in some kind of heavy plot-driven way where Oscar is some kind of human semblance storage device. Like he’s basically One For All from My Hero Academia. He’s able to possess and control multiple semblances.

Like if the show did it in a way where Atlas has been illegally using their auraexperiments to steal and traffic semblances—steal the powers of viable candidates to be sold to the highest bidder on the black market for those seeking high powered semblances or something like that.

And Oscar is seen like some major key to that since he can hold more than one semblance so he’s tricked and kidnapped by whoever is running this semblance-trafficking circle among Ironwood’s ranks without his knowledge to be used in continuing their operations. This actually makes me think of an old thought I once hand about RWBY making a homage to Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood by introducing a subplot where Oscar is abducted and used for his aura as the Boy with More than One Soul. So he’s basically turned into a human aura battery by some rogue Atlesian scientist to create an army of solders bent on taking over Atlas. Like the Mannequin Soldiers.

If this idea is used like that…then…okay? I guess it could be kinda cool. Still not what I want to be Oscar’s true power, though. Sorry. No.

I want something that symbolizes Oscar possessing a power that only he can wield masterfully while simultaneously being something that was shared by the other Wizards of Light to give Oscar an incentive to be more fully accepting of his role in this fight against Salem. If that makes sense. I don’t buy Oscar being completely complacent with the Merge. As a matter of fact, Oscar is behaving just as nonchalant about his true feelings as Ruby was in V5 and I honestly pray she is the one to call him out on that in a similar way he did with her.

This is why I like the idea of Oscar having no semblance at all with his true strength coming from the power he shared with his fellow wizarding brothers. This is why I really want Oscar’s power to be magic.

When you think about it, Oscar may be the one character in RWBY who I think doesn’t need to have a semblance. Someone once made a point about semblances being only a remnant of magic. They are meant to resemblemagic but never come as close to being what it truly was. The gift of the Gods.

They didn’t say it in those exact words but this is what I derived from that analogy because I agree with it. Semblances are a by-product of ModernRemnant while magic was the original— its more powerful predecessor used by the First People of Remnant during the Era of the Gods.

You can almost even say that one’s semblance may be limited by its wielder. Magic, on the other hand, is the power of the Gods. It is a power of infinitepossibilities. With magic, Oscar would be able to do more than anyone else on the team especially it he learns to master control of it.

I really think magic is going to be Oscar’s thing. It’s a power that’s his and is destined to be only his since it’s an intricate part of his legacy.

Out of the three fairy tale characters who influence Oscar’s story, two of them were powerful magic users including one who was practically the embodiment of magic in her world. From the get-go, magic has always been a power unique to Wizards since it represents their origins. Their past with First Remnant. It is what connects them to the Gods, Salem and all other magical things still retained in Remnant.

I cannot see Oscar having a more fitting power than magic.

And do you what’s also great about that? Even if Oscar has magic, he’d still be able to perform all those feats that folks were speculating to be his semblance. To the folks who believed Oscar’s power to be something to do with plants—Oscar can do that in the form of earth elemental magic. To the fans speculating that Oscar’s power would be some kind of teleportation ability, Oscar would be able to fly using magic as demonstrated by the Maidens and Salem and Ozma during the Lost Fable.

And to folks like me who thought Oscar’s semblance could be Nullification—Oscar would still be able to do that with magic. There is so much that can be done with magic. If Ozma was able to create the Maidens from magic while the King of Vale allegedly used it to create the Vaults to house the Relics while Ozpin blessed the Branwen Twins with avian shapeshifting through magic, then imagine what Oscar could do should he tap into that same power.

And if Oscar is anything like his inspirations, both in RWBY and in fairy tale, then only greatness is to be expected of this budding young farm boy. Semblance ornot, I strongly think Oscar is destined to become a great and powerful magic user. Even more powerful than Salem. That’s my theory.

With that thought in mind, it makes me consider something interesting. Here we all are thinking that Ruby Rose is going to be the saviour who finally defeats Salem when the possibility of the show making her the one destined to protect and/or fight alongside the actual ‘chosen one’ to stop Salem is also in the cards.

After all, not all protagonists in stories have to be the hero of the story or saviorof the world within the story. Nomad of Nowhere sort of did something like this in its first season where the Nomad, our main hero, is revealed to truly be the protector of our key player—the last magic user and probably the one person besides the Nomad with the power to put an end to El Rey. A little leeway to theorize about Nomad but the idea still remains.

It’d be interesting if the one or ones destined to defeat Salem as our two smaller, more honest souls— Ruby and Oscar working together to put an end to Salem’s dark reign. And they’ll succeed together, not by destroying Salem, but by cleansing her of her darkness, reverting her back to her former form before she dove into the Grimm Pools through the combined light of Ruby’s Silver Eyes and Oscar’s magic.

Salem would still be immortal. And she would still be bitter and wanting revenge against the Gods. However this time Ruby and Oscar would sever her ties to the Grimm Pools entirely by getting rid of them all, practically relinquishing the Land of Darkness. A feat once thought impossible since only the God of Light could repel his brother’s power. But Ruby and Oscar would be able to do it together since they share the God of Light’s power running through their veins.

That could be so cool if turned canon. Again, it’s just another theory in my plethora of headcanons. Buuuut…y’know it’s one I’ve come to really like in recent days. And with that, that concludes my answer.

Whelp…so much for the nutshell version XD Oh wellll….I hope these answers were satisfactory to your liking Mizu. I guess you’ll let me know.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #ruby rose #rwby salem #rwby theories #ruby and oscar #mizuike #squiggles answers #pinehead headcanons #squiggles pinehead headcanons

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queermikehanlon · 5 years

Text

Birds of Paradise (Stanlon AU)

Summary: Mike is a tattoo apprentice next door to a flower shop, and he needs flowers before his mom’s flight comes in. Now he meets Stanley, the man who runs the shop with the flowers, and is actually kind of cute now that he thinks about it. (It’s chapter one from Mike’s perspective).

Words: 3,891

ao3

A/N: Wow, I posted chapter one on December 20th, 2017 and I’m uploading this one September 28th, 2019. I totally did not mean to leave it this long but I guess I was plagued with all the regular excuses: I got caught up with school work, lost most interest in the fandom, didn’t feel attached to the piece anymore, etcetera. I felt bad for leaving this abandoned, especially when I had half of chapter two written already, I just needed to finish it. I wrote the other half so here it is. Do I have a plan for chapter three? Yes. Do I have anything written? No. I don’t know if or when chapter three will be written but here’s chapter two.

One / Two / Three

Mike didn’t give much thought to the buildings around his work; they were all just the surrounding area and they were buildings that he passed- a part of his scenery. There was an electronics store, a small music shop, and the flower store, it was all just a part of the day to day that he started living.

When his mom called from the airport in Augusta, and told him that her and his grandmother were on their way to visit, he was frantic. Mike was trying to remember the last time he cleaned his apartment, if he had enough room in the apartment to keep his parents, if he had enough food for dinner, if he left the Chinese take out on the counter where his cat could get it, and shit, the flowers.

(His mother always loved flowers. After his father died when Mike was a teenager he promised himself that he would always get her flowers when he visited back home, when she came down, or on random days when he felt like he should do something nice and he would order them in Derry. It wasn’t something that his mom demanded, or that anyone demanded, but it was his own rule that he planned to stick to for the rest of his life, and the flower store next to his work would help mike put his mind at ease.)

Mike probably wore his anxiousness about the circumstances like a coat, it was all over him: thinking about when his mom and grandma were coming in, how fast he could make his apartment look presentable, how many dishes he left in the sink, how to dodge questions about what his plan was and when he was going to settle down and move out of that small apartment and get a nice house with someone, what time their flight was arriving and how he was going to find enough time to walk back home after work, get his car, and meet them at the airport to pick them up.

He had spent most of the morning working with Richie on some of his sketches and composition. Mike couldn’t tattoo yet because he didn’t have his license and he was just an apprentice at this shop, so his job right now was to help out in any way while Bev and Richie taught him how to tattoo when they had particularly slow or client-less days (they had him start on bananas before they would start making ads out for a free, apprentice done tattoos, so he could learn before permanently defacing someone’s skin). This morning, Richie had gone to mike for suggestion of placement and color choices and Mike helped him.

After Mike finished, he cleaned up the lobby and the desk and reorganized everything; he kept thinking about everything that he had to deal with when he got home. He thought of everything he absolutely had to do (1) clean the apartment, at least put the dishes in the dishwasher, (2) clean up his bedroom. (His mom and grandma would be sharing his bed and he would sleep on the couch. Mike can’t give them a dirty room with clothes and random things thrown around all over the floor of his bedroom), and (3) get the flowers for them.

Then at lunch time Mike got all of their lunches from the Chinese place a couple blocks away and they all ate lunch together in the breakroom that is just one of the small rooms that they had in the back. One room was Bev’s tattoo room, one was their breakroom, and the last was Mike’s tattoo room (that wasn’t getting much use yet, as he hasn’t started tattooing yet). Richie’s ‘room’ was open and a part of the main lobby so that everyone who went into the tattoo parlor could see him do his work.

After lunch was Mike’s break, and he decided to get on to his list of must-dos. His break was only fifteen minutes long and he didn’t think he’d have enough time to go home and clean up AND get flowers so he decided to one of two. He could straighten up (more like shove everything either in his closet or under his bed) while he was playing host but he couldn’t put off flowers, so that’s what he did. Mike thanked the lord that there was a florist right next door that he passed by everyday on the way to work. It worked better than him having to go all the way across town or making phone calls for all of his fifteen minute break.

Mike made his way on the sidewalk, and looked at the building, at the yellowish paint on the outside and the dark, almost army green paint that made the window sill. He had never given the shop much thought; it was just another shop of the many on their street, but now it was a savior in a day where he needed every miracle he could salvage.

The ding of the bell over the door almost distracted Mike from his thoughts until he saw the tall shelves and the green leaves and blotches of pink, yellow, red, and white petals all around the room.

Mike heard the clang of something setting on the table and he turned to the noise, seeing a man setting a clay pot on the counter that he could see through the door. The guy had hair cropped short and curled a little bit on the top, a green button down with a name curled in embroidery above the breast pocket. He had dirt stained gloves covering his hands.

The man turned to Mike. “Hi, how can I help you?”

Mike played with his hands, bending back his knuckles and fidgeting, before he spoke. “My mom and grandma are coming into town for a visit and I need anything you can throw together.”

Was that too much information? Should Mike have just asked for two bouquets?

“Alright,” the guy said. “I can set you up.”

Mike felt something come off his shoulders. At least he could get the flowers for them, if he couldn’t clean and he couldn’t cook something, at least he could keep the promise he made for himself for his mom. The man took off his gloves. “When are they coming in?”

Mike took a breath. “Tonight.”

Mike leaned over the counter, putting his hands on the cool yellow counter. “They surprised me with a call while they were at the airport and I can’t call 1800 flowers, not after last time.”

Mike tried not to think about the bad time when he was very, very desperate and he did call 1800 flowers and it did not go how he wanted. Mike hoped never to call them again.

The man nodded his head, which gave Mike a little bit of solace, “Okay, we can do this. Do you know what flowers or what colors they like?”

Mike was relieved, it won’t be the worst thing because mike will get the flowers, he’ll find a way to clean the apartment, he’ll manage to fix something good to eat, and he’ll make sure that everything goes well between now and when they board their plane back. And, the man behind the counter asked the question that Mike definitely knew the answer to.

“My mom likes irises and the color yellow and my grandma likes all the small pink flowers- that I do know.”

The man behind the counter smiled, it was small and not forced, like he was smiling at mike. Mike smiled in return and tapped his fingers on the counter.

“Yeah, we can do that. Give me a quick minute to pull out some stuff from the back and let’s see what we can make up, yeah?”

Mike nodded and let himself rest for just a second, leaning over the counter and putting his upper body weight on his elbows.

The man with the curly hair disappeared into the back of the door through a beige swinging door and Mike waited.

Behind the counter (and around the store) were mostly shelves of small flower pots with flowers working to take up space around the store. There was also a piece of framed pink paper, but the writing was too faint for Mike to read. There was a photograph, framed in an old gold decorative frame; It was a picture of what looked to be two young boys in a garden. Mike can’t see the boys faces but one has curly hair down past his jaw, so Mike assumes it’s pictures of the man, the guy who works at this little flower shop.

There were empty pots altogether, different than the ones that the flowers were held in. These were more decorative and had little designs carved into them. They had a little sign in the middle that said, ‘you want one of these pots to be your own? ask for details!’

The door suddenly swung open and there he was, arms full of cup sized, plastic pots of flowers, ones like he described to the flower shop man. “It was two bouquets, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Mike choked out.

The man sat down all the little pots on the counter and Mike leaned in closer to have a better look at the flowers. The man began separating them into groups, by the colors Mike could see what the man- a quick look at his name tag- Stanley, was thinking. “This is what I’m thinking: we have the irises and we have the yellow pansies to make the purple stand out. Then we have some orange poppies to make the blue in the irises stand out. We just need something white or cream colored to make all the other colors stand out.”

Mike understood what he was saying. The color theory and the complements of colors, it was all basic information that was in the back of his head as an artist. Wait- “Aren’t there flowers that look like this-” Mike left his fingers brush against the yellow flowers, the pansies- “but, like, smaller and cream colored? I think I did a piece with them a few weeks ago. Johnny somethings.”

“Johnny Jump Ups.” Stanley said almost immediately. “I think I have some of them, not a lot of people ask for them. Let me check.”

Back through the door he went and Mike watched him go. This Stanley sure is cute, he thought without realizing. Then realizing, mike took in the thought and let it simmer until Stanley came back through the door with another tiny flower.

“These are perfect.” He showed Mike the tiny flowers. He was right in his memory of the flowers, small, white and they looked like the yellow pansies but an off white with light purple faded on the ends of each petal. Stanley was right. With the other flowers, the Johnny Jump Ups were perfect in composition. “They’re small enough to fill up space but pretty enough they’re not out of place.”

“Yeah, I did a few flashes with them, I got used to drawing them.” With the florist’s confused look, Mike explained. “I’m an apprentice at the tattoo parlor next door, it was such a relief to have this shop next door with them coming to town.”

“Oh, yeah cool. I guess you do a lot of flower stuff.”

Mike laughed. That fact was true. Even though he mostly helps with drawings and compositions he has drawn a lot more flowers since getting a job at the parlor next door. “Yeah, almost once a day, probably even more once I’m not an apprentice and I’m a fully licensed artist.”

“That’s really cool.”

Mike smiled at the man in front of him. Along with cute, the florist was sweet. This didn’t feel like a transaction only conversation. It felt like Mike was talking to a friend, or a more than friend.

“And for your grandma’s set I was thinking these peonies with the carnations and the light purple petunias. It’s a lot softer than the other one.”

“You thought of all of that on the spot back there?” Mike asked, curious. “Are you a wizard?”

“Yes. The flower wizard, making sure that everyone has something pretty.” Cute, sweet, and funny.

“Good, I would only trust a flower wizard to make these bouquets.” Stanley let out a little laugh before he paused.

“So you like the idea? The flowers all together?”

Mike nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, it’s amazing, perfect, thank you.”

Stanley behind the counter reached out for a pad of paper, and began writing, what Mike assumed what his order was. After scribbling for a moment, Stanley spoke again. “Can I get your name?”

“Michael. Mike Hanlon.”

“Alright, I’ll get this form all filled out for you. You said they were coming in tonight, when will you need them by?”

Mike stopped. He didn’t want Stanley to quit everything to work on his. He didn’t want to be a disruption. “Don’t drop other stuff to get mine done quickly. I don’t want you to-“

Stanley stopped him quick enough. “Mike, it’s two bouquets. I can do them pretty quick. What time do you need them done?”

Mike thought about it. Mike got off work at six o’clock on the dot. The plane arrived at 6:45 so he would want to leave as soon as he got off work, but he had a ten or fifteen minute leeway if he wanted to clean a little bit before he left for the airport. “I can come by before 6, or you could drop them off in the parlor considering that our door goes into my room.”

“I always wondered what I’d find on the other side. I guess I didn’t want to accidentally run into something awkward or something.”

Mike laughed. It felt like the conversation was coming to and end and Mike didn’t want that end to come. Maybe Mike could see Stanley again when he didn’t need flowers, maybe to dinner, a date perhaps? “Just little ol’ me. Thank you so much for doing this, on such short notice.”

“It’s no problem, honestly. I’m just going to need your phone number to complete the order form.” Mike felt a little smirk grow on his face and he spoke before he could really think through the words coming out of his mouth.

“And not for yourself? I’m hurt.”

Stanley smiled back at him. “I guess I’ll have to use it for myself too then, just so that your feelings aren’t hurt.”

That was a step in a good direction. Mike threw a little more into the flirting. “Good. It’d be a shame if I find this cute guy and he wouldn’t call me on a professional courtesy.”

“Well, what is that phone number?” Mike told him the phone number, and read the paper Stnaley was writing on to make sure it was written down correctly. Mike pulled out his phone and opened a new contact page. When Stanley looked up from the notepad, Mike held out his phone to him.

“How will I know it’s the cute flower shop guy who’s calling me and not one of my clients?”

Stanley took the phone and began typing. “I guess I can give it to you then, just so you don’t get confused with one of your clients and not so you can text me later and ask me to hang out.”

Mike’s mood couldn’t be lifted any further than it is now. “Or something else?”

“Or something else,” Stanley agreed. He went back to the order forms and ripped one copy, the yellow copy, from the white copy. “These are your receipts.”

When Stanley held out the piece of paper for Mike to grab, mike made is so that their fingers brushed against each other. “Thank you for doing this, Stanley; it means a lot.”

“Stan,” Stanley, or Stan corrected. “or Stanley, if you prefer.”

“Okay, Stan. I think my break’s about to end soon, so I should probably be getting back before they fire me or something.” Mike pulled out his wallet and paid for his flowers after looking at the price on his receipt. After he finished and everything was finished up, Stan spoke up.

“I’ll be by. Before six, that’s what you said?”

“Yeah, thank you so much for this.”

Stan chuckled. “It’s my job to make bouquets, you don’t have to thank me.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have to thank you.” Mike glanced at his watch, then made sure to finish up before he was supposed to be back to work. “Now I really have to go, but I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.”

<hr>

It was almost quitting time. Mike was drawing some flashes and waiting for Stan to come by like he said he would. Every few minutes Mike would glance at the door that was the barrier between his room and what supposedly was the backroom to Stan’s flower shop.

Mike heard a quick knock knock on his door then heard the creak of the hinges. “Mikey? You gotta visitor!”

Mike looked up and then saw Stan behind Beverly. Stan stood there in the same uniform as before, except in his hands he held flower bouquets. Seeing Stan again made him smile- even though he only met the man that day and there wasn’t anything mind-blowing or earth shattering about their interaction that afternoon. “Thanks Bevvie.”

Beverly stood there and waited. Stan walked through the door, standing beside Beverly rather than behind her. Mike put his pencil down and faced them. With a little push towards his friend, he spoke.“You can leave now, Bev.”

“Maybe I want to stay and watch the show. Stanley wouldn’t mind, would you, Stanley?”

Mike stood up and stood facing Bev. He put his hand out and slightly pushed Bev back out of the doorway. He put a smile on his face and used his fingers to wave goodbye to her as he closed the door. Her face was priceless, as long as she knew him, she had never seen him with someone.

“Y’all best not be fucking when I check on you!” She shouted.

“Yeah, Bev’s not the kindest one in the bunch she’s cool.” Mike said, rubbing the skin on the back of his neck, a little embarrassed by his boss and good friend.

“Yeah, I know. I’m friends with her boyfriend.” Stan told him. He shot a questioning glance then shook it away. Mike had only met Bev’s boyfriend a few times, and they didn’t really talk. It was when he came by to eat lunch with Bev or the one day he got romantic and brought her a bouquet of flowers. She said he was like that all the time. “Oh, here are your flowers!”

Mike almost forgot that Stan was here to do his job and deliver flowers. “Oh yeah.”

Mike took the flowers from Stan’s hands and held them up and looked at them. They looked amazing; better than the last florist he went to when he still loved across town. “These look better than what you made in the shop. How do you do it?”

Stan smiled. “I thought we talked about that, I’m a flower wizard.”

“Oh right of course.”

Mike sat in his chair, which he rolled so that he was closer to Stan. Mike watched as Stan looked around the room, then later at the drawings he had around his desk.

“You did all those drawings? They’re amazing.” Stan stood up from his seat and stepped closer to look at the drawings. Objectively, Mike knew he was a good artist, otherwise he wouldn’t have gone into the profession of professional person who did mostly permanent art, but he still felt a little shy about people complimenting him on his artwork.

“Thanks,” Mike said. Before he backed out and lost the courage he thought he had, he opened up the conversation. “I actually wanted to ask you something?”

Stan turned away from the drawings and faced Mike. Mike looked at his face and he felt more nervousness bubble in his stomach.“Yeah, sure, ask away.”

Mike bit his lip, and began fidgeting with his hands, his index finger was scratching at his thumb. He was nervous because what if there was a rejection under their previous conversations. What if Stan didn't want the same things as him?

“Maybe, if you’re free and if you wanted to, you want to go see a movie with me? Maybe Friday night?”

Stan held a small smile. “Are you asking me out on a date, Mike?”

Mike’s stomach dropped in fear. Did Mike misread all the flirting they had that afternoon? Did Stan not like guys?Did Stan not want this? “Did I read this the wrong way or?”

“No,” Stan said quickly. ”No, just making sure. I want to go on a date with you. I think we’d have a fun time.”

Mike shoulders dropped and a smile spread across his face in the acceptance. “Okay, cool, yeah.”

Stan and Mike waited in the room in silence, a comfortable one. Mike was glad he met Stan, and was happy that Stan agreed to go on a date with him. Mike felt good, almost a better happy then the satisfied content he'd been feeling for a while.

“I should probably get going back to my store.” Stan spoke softly. Mike took a deep breath. He didn’t want Stan to leave so quickly, but then again, Mike had a lot of things to get done before the night was over. “I think maybe you should use my number when you figure out what movie we’re going to see.”

“Yeah, I definitely will.” Mike was already going through what he knew was playing at the theatre, what he thought would make a good date night movie, and one the thought Stan would like.

Stan reached his hand out and touched Mike’s shoulder. Mike could feel the fingers around his muscle and the contact set him on the edge of his seat. “I guess I’ll see you on Friday?”

Mike became a little bolder, “Not unless I visit tomorrow.”

Stan smirked. “The store’s usually slowest in the morning, just for future reference.”

A knock came at the door and Mike jumped at the sudden noise. Then he heard his sweet, dear friend (a friend whom he might kill later), Bev’s voice come through the door. “Boys! What’s going on in there?”

Stan walked closer to the door and put his hand on the door knob and let him turn the knob and open the door to Beverly who had her ear pressed to the door. When the door was away from her face, she slowly stood up straight. “Have you been standing here the whole time?”

“No,” Beverly stated, very quick with her response. she shrugged. “You think I’d waste my time eavesdropping on my dear, dear friends?”

“Yes,” Mike answered. “You definitely would.”

Stan walked past her and turned around to Mike. “You’ll text me later?”

Mike nodded his head with a smile and Beverly looked between them with her head turning back and forth like she was watching a tennis match. Stan laughed at her.

“Well, I’ll see you later then.”

#stanlon #stanley uris #stan uris #mike hanlon #del writes #del posts

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rulesofthebeneath · 5 years

Text

rooftop (hbad au)

<AN> Well... y’all asked for it. Also side note: please please please let me know if any of the hindi is wrong. I’ll be providing translations at the end of the fic. I used Romanized text instead of Devanagari script here.

Tagging: @pixelburied @witchiegirl @lorosette @itsbrindleybinch @awkwardalbatros @ravenclawpokegirl25 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @ajaysbhandari @ylevolenahs @hufflepvnk

</AN>

It had been a few weeks since he and Grace had talked about getting married, and Ajay felt like he was finally ready to ask.

He had taken every single thing into account when he was planning, as a good director had to. Location, check: he was in the elevator on his way to the landlord’s office to talk about getting access to the rooftop. He’d met the man a few times before: he was a verified grump, but Ajay was confident in his ability to persuade the man to his side. Lighting, check: he’d sneakily purchased string lights the other day while Grace had been at rehearsal. Sound, check: portable speakers, courtesy of Lysander back from their Bonnie & Clyde days, and a playlist of all the songs she’d ever texted him about. Costumes, check: he’d ironed out his best button-down and khaki pants for the occasion, something nice but still comfortable and hopefully just casual enough to catch her off guard. And finally, for props: he’d basically cleared the nearest flower kiosk out of lilacs, her favorite, and roses just thrown in for a change of pace.

But the most important prop was in his pants pocket, and he took it out now, running his thumb over the small wooden box. He’d ordered the engagement ring from a small artisan jeweler based in New York, so it hadn’t cost him much to get it delivered. His dad had called when Ajay texted to ask his advice on how much to spend on the ring, and the two had had a long discussion about prices and expectations and finances that left Ajay feeling very secure in his choice. He had found a beautiful ring with a gold band and a few small diamonds surrounding a slightly larger focal diamond. He really loved the style (and the price), and he knew Grace would too. She didn’t wear much fancy jewelry, so he knew she’d want something low-key.

By far the hardest part had been figuring out her ring size, since he still wanted to keep the timing of his plans secret. He’d been lucky enough though, one morning two weeks ago, to find her class ring from college sitting out on their dresser. After a very awkward conversation that definitely left her suspicious, he determined that it did still fit comfortably on her ring finger and was able to discern her ring size.

Finally, the elevator arrived at the first floor, and Ajay quickly walked down the hall and knocked on his landlord’s office. The man, Simon, kept him waiting but eventually opened the door, welcoming him inside with little more than a grunt. Ajay took a seat across from Simon at his desk. Simon stared at him until Ajay realized he was supposed to be speaking.

“What are the rules on rooftop access?”

“No.”

Ajay blinked, but argued back.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s my roof. No.”

Ajay crossed his arms.

“We won’t be loud and I promise we’ll clean up any mess we make.”

“No.”

Ajay narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Simon’s stony expression. The man could’ve easily thrown Ajay out of his office if he didn’t want to talk to him; Ajay knew from experience that the rudeness wasn’t beneath him. Simon must just be waiting for the right argument.

“I want to do something special for my girlfriend,” Ajay tried, attempting to solve the puzzle.

“And what’s that?” Simon asked, his expression betraying nothing.

Finally, Ajay thought, a weak point.

“Well, Grace and I have been together for almost two years now, and we’re both taking the weekend off to spend time with each other, so-”

Simon cut him off. “You’re going to propose.”

Ajay involuntarily turned red, but cleared his throat. “Yes, I am.”

Simon studied Ajay, and Ajay resisted the urge to fidget as the landlord’s eyes considered him. Finally, Simon spoke again.

“Fine,” he grunted, and Ajay broke into a wide grin. Before Ajay could open his mouth to thank him, though, Simon cut him off.

“But here’s some rules. You can play music for a maximum of thirty minutes between the hours of seven pm and nine pm. You get one warning if it’s too loud, and if it’s still too loud after that I’m kicking you off. And listen, young man, I shouldn’t have to say this, but no funny business on my roof. That’s what you’ve got an apartment for.”

Ajay’s eyes widened at that last statement, but he managed to maintain control of his words.

“Yes, sir. Thank you so much, this means a lot to me.” He thought he saw a hint of a smile from under Simon’s long beard, but he lost it as Simon turned to procure the key to the rooftop access.

“Get it to my dropbox by 9 am tomorrow, or the replacement cost’s coming out of your rent.”

Ajay couldn’t help himself from grinning at the landlord as he pocketed the small key. “Again, thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. Now, get out of my office,” Simon said bluntly, and Ajay stood up rapidly to make his exit.

***

Almost five hours later, Grace turned her key in the lock and entered the apartment. She was sweaty from her all-day rehearsal, but very ready to spend a relaxing weekend with her boyfriend.

It had become a bit of a tradition for them, these regularly scheduled “stay-cations” every few months. Between the busy schedules and large time demands of show business, the couple had had to put something in place to make sure that they set enough time aside for each other. It was easier ever since they moved in together, but Grace still loved having a few days just for them every once in a while.

This one was particularly special, because it came almost exactly on their second anniversary. The exact day had been yesterday, but Ajay had been forced to stay late working with a star-studded cast that was giving him hell, and Grace had needed to clock some hours at a dance studio anyways. The show she was rehearsing was notorious for its difficult dance sequences, and as a swing she was expected to know them all. But she had found a deep love for dancing, and even though it was a lot of work she didn’t mind doing it. A job was a job, and a gig as a swing on a long-running Broadway show meant amazing things to come.

It did mean, however, that Ajay was asleep by the time she gave up dancing and crawled into their bed at three am, and that he was long gone for the day when she woke up around lunchtime. Their schedules were grueling, and Grace desperately missed spending time with him.

So naturally, she threw herself into Ajay’s arms as soon as she walked through the door, her dance bag falling to the ground as his arms wrapped around her, holding her to him tightly until he noticed the sweat stench and quickly released her to avoid ruining his clothes. That was when she noticed the wonderful smell emanating from the kitchen.

“You’re my savior,” she proclaimed, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I thought we’d be going out and I’d have to be in front of people.”

“No people,” Ajay reassured her, “just me and you, a delicious dinner, a little Sinatra, and a sky full of stars.”

“How poetic. Wait… a sky full of… oh my god, did you get roof access?”

Grinning, he pulled the key out of his blazer pocket. She gasped.

“How did you get Simon to give you that?”

“That’s a secret,” he teased, smirking. He pressed a light kiss to her nose, then shoved her towards the bathroom. “Now go take a shower, you smell terrible.”

“Thanks,” Grace answered over her shoulder, rolling her eyes lovingly as she entered the bathroom. She washed her sweat away and let her sore muscles relax under the hot spray of the shower, humming some of the lyrics to the musical she’d been rehearsing. The music seemed to be permanently implanted in her head.

When she got out of the shower after fifteen blissful minutes, the towel she wrapped herself in was perfectly warm and dry, like it had just been taken out of the dryer. She made a mental note to thank Ajay for that later. What a thoughtful nerd, she thought fondly, leaving the bathroom and proceeding to her closet to pick out something nice but not too nice to wear. After all, they would be on the roof and she wanted to impress him, but she was too tired to go full formal.

Grace eventually decided on a soft pink shirt and a black skirt, accompanied by her signature knee-high boots. Under them, she wore her fuzziest Cookie Monster socks. She’d take the secret to her grave, but the only reason she liked wearing boots was because she could wear whatever socks she wanted under them. Sometimes a stressful work week needed crazy socks, and she knew Ajay agreed because she’d caught him rifling through her sock drawer on more than one occasion. She quickly dried her hair and did some simple makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes. She figured she’d be getting more than enough sleep this weekend to make up for them: one of her and Ajay’s favorite things to do together was nap, because neither of them got enough sleep.

She finally emerged from the bedroom to see Ajay packing two plates and two sets of utensils into a large picnic basket that she hadn’t even known they owned. When he saw her, he smiled.

“You look beautiful,” he said, crossing the small kitchen to take her hands in his.

“You always say that,” Grace countered, biting her bottom lip playfully.

“It’s always true.” He turned back to the picnic basket and closed it, then hoisted the handles over his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

“Hell yes,” Grace cheered, “I’ve been wanting to see this roof forever.”

The pair left their apartment, fingers intertwined, to explore what laid beyond the mysterious roof access door.

Once she crossed the threshold, Grace could instantly tell that Ajay had really put some thought into the plans for tonight.

A large, thick, soft-looking blanket was spread out across the center of the flat roof, looking inviting. A small space-heater was set up beside it, because even though it was May the night could still get chilly. Beyond the blanket was a portable speaker—Grace recognized the one Ajay had used in Bonnie & Clyde—and string lights indicating a clear space, possibly for them to dance.

Grace could only squeeze Ajay’s hand in gratitude, recognizing the effort he must have gone through to put everything together. He kissed her temple and led her towards the blanket where they both sat.

“I still want to know how you got Simon to let us up here,” Grace said as she unpacked the food from the basket.

“It’s still a secret, janu.”

Grace rolled her eyes at him lovingly, then lifted the lid of one of the containers.

“Wow, Korean barbecue beef? You know this is my favorite…”

“That’s why I made it,” Ajay said, grinning. “Check the rest of the basket.”

Grace dug out a generous container of rice, a thermos of roasted vegetables (extra peppers but no carrots- he had remembered!), and finally a small box that Grace suspected was full of desserts. She raised an eyebrow at Ajay, who just shrugged and motioned to the box. Grace cautiously opened the box, then lost all semblance of caution when she saw what was inside.

“That’s cinnamon apple turnovers!”

“Yup, homemade this time.”

“Really? You didn’t just run down to the bakery during intermission–”

Ajay cut her off with a long kiss, then pulled back a few inches, their faces still close together.

“No, I made those myself. And I burned half my fingers doing it,” he said in a low voice, making Grace snort with laughter.

“You’re not usually that clumsy,” she noted between laughs. “And you’re a pretty good pastry chef, so what gives?”

Ajay simply hummed, turning away from her to start serving their meal. “My hands might have been shaking,” he admitted.

Grace raised her eyebrows. “How come?”

“That’s a secret, too,” he teased, pausing to give her a wink. Grace’s heartbeat sped up, a warm feeling of comfort and love filling her chest. She leaned forward to wrap her arms around his waist, kissing the nape of his neck as he finished loading a plate with food.

They dug in to the feast, talking and joking around as much as they could while savoring the perfectly marinated barbecue and the fluffiest rice Grace thought she’d ever tasted. Even the vegetables tasted amazing, roasted with olive oil according to Ajay. Grace ate her fill and then some, stealing chunks of the beef off Ajay’s plate to his indignation. He kept her glass filled with a seemingly endless supply of strawberry-flavored sparkling water (Grace had developed an addiction to the stuff, and now it was practically all she would drink) and let her have more than her share of the cinnamon apple turnovers (he had made three just to prepare for her wanting extras).

After the food was all eaten, Grace cleared the dishes into the empty basket while Ajay fiddled with his phone and the speakers, eventually getting them to play Sinatra songs at a volume that they could still hear but that hopefully wouldn’t provoke Simon’s rage. He helped her up and led her over to the little dance floor that he’d set up with the lights, then pulled her in close as they swayed together to the music.

After a few moments of wonderful, beautiful, comfortable silence, Grace spoke back up with the one thing that was on her mind.

“So, are you ever gonna tell me how you really got Simon to give us access?”

Ajay sighed. “I guess you’ll never leave it alone until I do, yeah?”

Grace pulled away slightly, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Did you sleep with him?” she joked.

“What?!”

“Because if you did, just saying, you could’ve invited me too.”

“Grace, what the actual-”

“Might’ve been fun. But now we’ll never know.”

Ajay rolled his eyes, trying not to give his girlfriend the satisfaction of knowing that her jokes were funny.

“He was actually really easy to convince,” Ajay said, “When I told him what I wanted it for.”

“Oh yeah? What did you tell him?” Grace asked, thinking she knew where he might be going with this. She prayed he couldn’t feel her heart pounding.

“Yeah. Well, first I walked down to his office and I just asked, and he shut me down but didn’t throw me out like he did the last few times we went to ask.”

“Surprise number one,” Grace quipped.

“Tell me about it. So I thought maybe I’d try a practical appeal.”

“Sensible.”

“I told him we’d clean up and we wouldn’t be loud.”

“And?”

“He still said no. But still didn’t make me leave. So I pulled out the greatest weapon in my arsenal.”

“Which was…?”

“An emotional appeal. The man has to have a heart somewhere.”

Grace smiled against Ajay’s shoulder, his arms wrapped even tighter around her. She could feel his heartbeat from where her forehead was nestled in the crook of his neck, and it was fast. She knew exactly where he was going with this, but she couldn’t imagine ruining it for him. She just pressed into his chest more, let him hold her closer as he continued.

“I told him how, eleven years ago, I met the love of my life but I didn’t know it was her. How I loved her, and then lost her, and then found her again so many years later.”

“Awww, Ajay..”

“I told him about how you mean the world to me, and how I want to make every single moment with you as special as it can be. I told him that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Did you really say all that to Simon?” Grace tried to blink back tears, overwhelmed by all of Ajay’s beautiful words.

“No. But I implied it with what I did say. I said it was our second anniversary, and that I wanted to do something really special for you. And he said, ‘You’re going to propose,’.”

Grace snuggled in closer to Ajay, the tears in her eyes starting to fall.

“And I said, ‘Yes, I am,’.”

Ajay separated himself from Grace, unwrapping her arms from around his shoulders. Far enough back, he kneeled down where he’d been standing and took out a small wooden box. Grace, unsure what to do, busied herself wiping away her tears. Ajay noticed the action and looked alarmed, but his panic faded when Grace showed him the big smile behind her tears. He grinned back up at her, his own eyes starting to glint with tears.

“Y’know, Grace, I wrote you a speech but I can’t remember a word of it. That’s how much you take my breath away, how you scatter my best-laid plans to the wind.”

Grace choked out a laugh, covering her mouth with one of her hands.

“The gist of it is this: I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be your husband, the father of your children, your partner forever. Will you marry me?”

Ajay opened the box, revealing the delicate ring he’d bought her. Grace didn’t think she’d ever seen anything more beautiful in her life than that ring, besides the man who was holding it, and she got distracted watching the dazzle of the string lights as they hit the small diamonds at just the right angle.

Tears falling freely now, Grace nodded rapidly.

“Yes!” she choked out through the tears. She stuck her left hand out and he slid the ring on, then stood up to wrap her in a tight hug once he’d put the box back in his pocket.

“Why are you crying?” he whispered as he ran his hands up and down her back soothingly.

“Why are you crying?” Grace mumbled into his blazer, sniffing. Ajay kissed the top of her head.

“Because I love you, and I get to love you for the rest of my life.”

Grace cried even harder. “Me too.”

***

The next morning, Grace woke up warm and comfortable with Ajay beside her, gently playing with her hair. She shifted, and he turned to face her, cupping her face in his hands.

“I’m sorry, janu, did I wake you up?”

Grace shook her head, her voice a little hoarse from sleep. “No, but even if you did, I think this is the best way to wake up.”

Ajay grinned and leaned down to kiss her. Once he pulled back, he ran a hand through her hair again.

“Well, good morning then, fiancée.”

Grace took in a surprised breath. “Wow, okay, I’m not gonna get used to that one for a while, fiancé,” she teased back, grinning when he blinked in surprise.

“It’s definitely a new one,” he agreed. “Should we get up, then? I’m hungry, and I think there are a few people who might want to hear about our news.”

Grace groaned into Ajay’s chest. “Can we go ahead and argue about who to call first now, and then get food?”

Ajay laughed. “Let’s call your brother first, if that’s alright? We can do that same thing to him as he did to us when he told you about his first kid.”

As Grace laughed, Ajay rolled out of the bed and grabbed a t-shirt. Grace stretched her back and followed suit, picking a pair of white socks with large yellow lemons on them from the drawer.

“You’re so weird,” Ajay laughed.

“Don’t act like you don’t steal my socks,” Grace responded, raising an eyebrow at him. “And anyways, you know I’m weird. That’s why you love me.”

“You’re right. I knew you were weird and I still asked you to marry me. Ignored all the warning signs…” he teased, only stopping when Grace reached back over to the bed and threw a throw pillow at him playfully.

The pair went into their small kitchen. Ajay microwaved the remnants of a takeout meal from the week before, while Grace poured cereal into a bowl.

Her twin brother, James, still lived in Los Angeles, but he and Grace Skyped every week. About a year ago, around the time Grace and Ajay had moved in together, James had called her with a big grin on his face.

“CONGRATULATIONS!” he had yelled almost as soon as she answered the call, laughing at the bewildered look on her face.

“What?”

“I said congratulations!”

“What did I do?”

James had beckoned his wife into the view of the camera. His wife, Alyssa, was hardly holding back her own laughter.

“Congratulations!” she said, making Grace groan in exasperation. At that point, Ajay had come over to investigate.

“Oh, hi Ajay! This kind of applies to you, too,” James had said. Grace and Ajay traded bewildered looks.

“Congratulations on your new niece or nephew,” James had said calmly, his expression barely holding back his happiness. He had waited for the news to sink in, and had laughed when Grace’s eyes went wide and she covered her mouth.

Stirring her cereal, Grace laughed to herself as she remembered that chaotic Skype call. She was so happy her brother had found someone with the same sense of humor as him. Their kid, a little boy they named Gabriel, had been born about six months ago, and Grace had been able to take some time off to go visit the newborn. He was the spitting image of Alyssa, but very loud just like James. Grace had fallen in love with him as soon as she’d seen him.

After breakfast, right at the scheduled time, Grace started a Skype call with James. He picked up quickly, sitting at the breakfast bar with Gabriel in his arms. On Grace’s end, Ajay remained off-camera.

“Hey Grace,” James said. He picked up Gabriel’s little arm to wave at the camera. “Hi Aunt Grace!” he said in a squeaky tone, imitating the baby. Grace giggled.

“Hey, James and Gabe! Is Alyssa there?”

“Yeah, hold on.” James yelled off-camera, and not five seconds later Alyssa walked into the frame.

“Hey, Grace!” she said. “When are you coming down for another visit? We miss you over here.”

“Hopefully pretty soon,” Grace smiled. “In the meantime, I just wanted to offer you guys my congratulations.” She was careful not to let anything on her face give away the news, but she knew it was a futile attempt because her brother knew her way too well to be fooled by a poker face. James raised his eyebrows at her.

“Congratulations? It’s a little late for that, Gabe was born half a year ago.”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t referring to that…” Grace deflected, drumming her fingers on the table and trying not to make eye contact with Ajay, who was trying not to laugh.

“Well, what is it, then?” Maybe it was just the early hour, but James hadn’t quite caught on to the fact that she was messing with him yet. From the way Alyssa’s eyes were narrowed, Grace knew she had guessed what was going on.

“It’s just not every day you get a future brother-in-law,” Grace said, avoiding eye contact with the camera. She couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto her face, especially when James shouted in realization.

“Oh my God, Grace! You guys got engaged?” He started fidgeting excitedly so much that Alyssa took the baby away from him, kissing his temple as she did so.

“Yup.” Ajay popped into the frame, standing behind Grace’s chair with his hands resting on her shoulders. Grace held up the ring for Alyssa to inspect.

“It’s beautiful, nice job!” Alyssa said to Ajay, nodding approvingly. Ajay grinned and kissed the top of Grace’s head. James was still sitting in the corner of the frame, shell-shocked.

“James? You alive?”

James still didn’t move until a plaintive meow sounded off-screen, prompting him to pick up the fluffy orange and white cat. After a second, he turned back to the camera.

“Guys…” he said, sounding a little choked up. “This is amazing.”

“I think so, too,” Grace said, putting a hand over Ajay’s.

“Have you guys thought about dates yet? Locations?” Alyssa asked, her wedding-planner side coming out. She had worked as a wedding planner ever since she’d graduated from UCLA, where she and James had met and started dating.

“We haven’t thought about an exact date yet, but I think we want a long engagement,” Ajay said, referencing the brief conversation he and Grace had had the night before after the emotions of the night got less extreme. “And we want the ceremony to be in California, so it’s easy for all our family to come.”

“I could totally help you guys plan it!” Alyssa said, trying to contain her excitement. “Discount rate, because you’re family.”

“That would be amazing,” Grace said. “We’ll get back to you when we know more. This only happened last night. You guys are actually the first people we called.”

After a brief conversation, a brotherly threat from James, and a silly face from Gabe, the twins ended their Skype call.

“That was exhausting,” Grace said, “Who’s next?”

“The one and only Shruti Bhandari. If we’re lucky, we might be able to catch Mohit too.”’

“I miss that kid,” Grace muttered.

“He misses you, too. I keep telling him he needs to text you more if he misses you so much, but he’s worried he’ll bother you.”

“Nonsense!” Grace shouted. “I always have time for Mo.”

“He’s going to be your brother-in-law,” Ajay pointed out. Grace grinned.

Ajay started the call to his mother, and it didn’t take her more than a few seconds to pick up. After some technical difficulties involving the camera on her computer, Shruti started speaking in rapid-fire Hindi. Grace was able to pick out a few words, enough to know that Shruti was admonishing her son for not asking Grace to marry him yet. Ajay buried his face in his hands.

“Namaste, Shruti. Aap kaisi hain?” Grace asked, hoping she’d got the pronunciation of the phrase correct. Shruti’s eyes widened, and she looked to her son.

“Amma, you know I’ve been teaching her Hindi!” Ajay said, exasperated. Shruti recovered and nodded.

“I’m well, Grace, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m doing great!”

“Well, since you clearly understood my question… Ajay, why haven’t you?”

“Don’t make assumptions, Amma.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Ajay grimaced, then picked up Grace’s left hand to show his mom the ring. Shruti gasped.

“He asked last night,” Grace said, a little embarrassed. She put her hand back down, and Ajay wrapped an arm around her.

“I wanted to make it special,” Ajay explained, “And I had a hard time getting our landlord to let me decorate the roof of our building.”

“Oh, betā, I’m so excited for you,” Shruti said, a large smile appearing on her face. “Do you know the date yet? Where are you going to have the ceremony?”

“We don’t know yet, it’s only been a day. Calm down,” Ajay said fondly, and his mom took a deep breath.

“Okay. I’m calm. Tell me about how you proposed!”

Sighing, Ajay told Shruti the story. Not long after, a seventeen-year-old’s voice rang through the kitchen on Shruti’s end of the call.

“Amma? Who are you talking to?”

Ajay grinned. “Mo! Come here.”

“Bhai?” Mohit came rushing into the frame. “Bhai! And Grace! Hi!”

“Hey, Mo!” Grace said. No matter how far apart they were, she loved that kid. “How’s school?”

“Sophomore year, almost over.” Mohit rolled his eyes. “So, how come you called? You never call.”

“I call lots!” Ajay protested, but Shruti took Mohit’s side.

“You would do well to call more. But go on, Ajay, tell him your news.”

Mohit pulled a chair up and sat next to his mom, resting his chin in his hand.

“Grace and I are getting married,” Ajay announced. Mohit cheered.

“Yes! I knew it! I knew it back when you were in high school that you guys were good for each other.”

“We didn’t even know that back then,” Grace joked, “but yes, your brother asked me to marry him last night and I said yes.”

Mohit grinned. “Congratulations. Now, I gotta go meet some friends at the pool, but you’re going to tell me all about it later, Ajay.”

“Will do. See you, Mo.”

Shruti laughed fondly as Mohit ran off. “Well,” she said, “I should probably go too. You guys should come visit soon, okay? I know Grace’s parents would like you to come visit as well.”

“Of course. Main aapse pyaar kartha hoon.”

“Mai bhee aapse pyaar karthee hoon. You too, bahū,” Shruti said, smiling at Grace. Then the call ended.

“What was that last part?” Grace asked, having been caught off-guard by the sudden return to Hindi.

“She said she loves you,” Ajay told Grace, drawing her closer and kissing her forehead gently, “And she called you daughter-in-law.”

“Oh. Wow,” Grace started, incredibly touched. “I think I might start crying again.”

“Oh, don’t. We still have to call your parents, my dad, probably Rosa and Mayleen…”

“Jesus,” Grace groaned.

“Then we should probably make some kind of social media announcement.”

“Nooooo,” Grace groaned. “Can’t we get any time for just us?”

“We have the rest of our lives, janu.”

Translations:

Aap kaisi hain? = How are you?

betā = son

Main aapse pyaar kartha hoon = I love you

#is this technically like #part 15?#possible.#anyways #here it is #ajay bhandari #ajay x mc #choices #playchoices #choices: stories you play #high school story class act #high school story: class act #high school story: class act choices #hssca #hssca fanfic #choices fanfic #hssca fanfiction #my fanfic

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queen-scribbles · 5 years

Text

Watcher, Scholar, Savior

@pillarspromptsweekly 100: Legacy. Running with my orlan daughter’s canon, tempting as it is to write more with Saoirse & Elihu for Emiri’s future.

---

There was nothing like the satisfying thunk of setting a large pile of books down on your desk. It spoke of new knowledge gained or old knowledge refreshed, and either way made Ginella tingle with anticipation. She rubbed her hands together and scanned the spines, trying to decide where she should begin.

He decision was interrupted by a low whistle. “Got enough books there, Nelly?”

“To start, yes,” she laughed as she turned around and crossed her arms. “But you can never have enough books.”

Noli rolled her eyes. “My sister, the scholar. So, are those for school or for fun?”

“Actually, this time it’s both,” Ginella said gleefully. “My world history professor wants us to pick someone we would consider one of the most influential kith of the last five hundred years and explain the reasoning behind our choice.”

“Auroch’s shadow, I know who you picked,” Noli snorted. “You;re doing that archmage you love so much, aren’t you?”

“And why not?” Ginella challenged, gesturing toward her stack of books. “Anyone you can write that much about clearly had a big impact on the world, didn’t she? And she wasn’t just an archmage, Nol, she also spearheaded the group that developed an alternative to the Wheel. She’s a scholar and historian and quite literally changed the course of history, both with her work on the Turning and discoveries she made in the Deadfire, never mind scribing seven or eight spells. She’s easily one of the most influential kith in history. So I think I can make a pretty compelling case for the last five hundred years.”

“Especially since you’re so passionate about it. Have fun.” Noli chuckled and lightly punched her shoulder.

“Oh, I plan to,” Ginella laughed, patting the stack of books. “I can’t think of a better way to spend my day.”

Noli laughed again and gave a finger-wiggle wave as she walked away. Ginella sat down, worked free the dark blue tome that was her chosen starting point, and began reading the familiar accounts of archmage and scholar Adela Tecali.

---

She read until the light faded and her neck ached, taking notes on the important points, even though she knew most of them by heart. It was the easiest way to organize her thoughts for the assignment. The spells were notable--largely because most were still favorites of nearly every wizard Ginella had ever met. Inerrant Recall and Lingering Bolt especially held a place of permanence in many a grimoire.

Then, of course, there’s were Adela’s explorations; she’d visited nearly every Engwithan site in the whole of Eora. Published several works on her discoveries that enhanced understanding of the Engwithans and their work, and advanced the study of souls by leaps and bounds. She actually understood Engwithan, a language thought dead for centuries even in her time.

And then there was her crowning achievement, the strongest argument for her impact on history: the Turning. As the leader and widely-accepted foremost scholar among the many who devised a solution to the Wheel’s destruction at the hands of a rogue god, she had indisputably altered the course of the world.

Ginella’s pen flew over the page, scrawling messy lists of the points she wanted to make. By the time she stopped--both due to her aching neck and Noli calling out dinner was ready--she had a rough six page outline of what she planned to write. (Assuming she could later read her own handwriting. It was atrocious when she got excited, which she certainly was now.)

“I think it’s time for a good long break,” Noli commented when she caught Ginella rolling her shoulders on the way down the hall. “Before you hurt yourself. You’ve been at it for hours. Rest your eyes, stop stressing your back. When’s this assignment due?”

Ginella coughed sheepishly. “Two weeks.”

“See, you have plenty of time.” Noli gestured toward the table. “Sit, eat. Take your time. How’s it going?”

“I made it through most of the books,” Ginella said as she followed her sister’s wishes. “Got a lot of material I can use to argue my point. I’m just debating how much attention to give her personal life. There is a biographical component to this project, but it’s not supposed to take up too much of our focus.” She took a good serving of the food. “Smells delicious, by the way, Nol.”

“Thanks. Simon passed along a new recipe for the potatoes I wanted to try.”

“Oh, these are Simon potatoes,” Ginella teased. “I’ll do my best to enjoy them, then.”

Noli rolled her eyes but didn’t take the bait. “You were saying?”

“Right. Pretty much every source agrees on Adela’s achievements as a wizard, historian, or scholar, the one area of dissent is her personal life. It makes me wonder how much to cover it, and which sources to trust.”

“What kind of dissent are we talking about?” Noli probed, “Shining example of a scholar vs proves true every stereotype about orlans, or where she came from, or what?”

“Relationships, actually,” Ginella said wryly. “Her friendships are well-documented, for the most part, but there’s no consensus on whether or not she had a, uh, paramour. It’s not an important detail in the scheme of things, but everyone’s always nosy about that sort of thing, so if I’m touching on her personal life, they’ll expect at least a mention.”

“Historians don’t agree about her love life?” Noli said incredulously. “How is there any confusion there?!”

Ginella shrugged. “Beats me. But still, some say she never had a romantic partner, others that it was a fellow survivor of the bîaŵac that sparked her adventures, still others some stranger from a foreign land she met after becoming Watcher.”

“Wow. Maybe just brush over her personal life briefly,” Noli muttered. “I’m sure there’s plenty to talk about without giving that more than half a page.”

“Very true. I could make my entire case just off the Turning. When you add in the explorations and her being an archmage, I don’t need to dwell on much else for ling.”

Eager as she was to get back to it, Ginella heeded Noli’s advice and took her time over dinner, then rested on the couch for the rest of the evening. There was no hurry, no matter how much part of her wanted to write the entire thing in a nonstop whirlwind of passionately extolling the achievements of Watcher Adela Tecali. She could take her time, do a good job, and present a case not many would argue.

---

Two weeks of thorough, meticulous, completely enjoyable work later, she was proven right. Her professor gave her almost perfect marks(a couple points off for being “overly enthusiastic” a time or two), and her peer-reviewers all agreed she’d made a convincing argument. At the risk of sounding arrogant, none of that really surprised Ginella.

What did surprise her was no one else picked Adela as their influential individual. In a class of twenty five history aficionados, Ginella was the only one to write about her. The others all picked generals, kings, queens. Leaders and warriors. Pirates, in a couple cases. She was the only one to argue for the Watcher of Caed Nua. And even if it was surprising, that was just fine by her.

It wasn’t every day, after all, she got school credit for reading and writing about one of her favorite historical figures; a woman who had saved and changed the world in multiple ways.

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

Having literally been in Ginella’s position, this was really fun to write. :D (I had an english class in college that used LotR as the base for all the papers/discussion etc. I got college credit to read/watch/talk about literally my favorite topic in the world on a weekly basis for three solid months. It’s such a great feeling)

I did briefly wonder if I was making Adi too OP, But her base intellect is, like, 18, and then she picked up a bunch of bonuses along the way....She’s a smart cookie who absolutely could do all that. And would.

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #adela tecali

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years

Text

Mysterious Fathoms Below

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 5: Welcome to Storybrooke

It was a morning like any other in Storybrooke, Maine and for this town, that was literally true. It was the same thing every morning. Same people. Same routine. Nothing changed. Such was the nature of the curse.

Regina walked along the sidewalk. As usual, she observed Marco on a ladder, fixing the same sign, Archie walking Pongo and greeting her with the same pleasantries, and Mr. Gold hobbling along with his cane. She had an extra cold glare for him today, for this was not exactly what she thought it would be. For she was one thing that was more annoying than angry and enraged. Regina was bored.

This wasn't exactly what the imp had promised if she cast the curse. But he had enticed her by revealing that Snow and her Charming prince had escaped to this very land in their mer-form, for he revealed that mer-people could travel realms without curses, portals, or beans. So she had done it. She cursed Snow's people and friends. If nothing else, she knew the guilt would eat at her and she would eventually come here to try and stand against her. And that's when Regina would crush her and her true love. But it had yet to happen and Regina, with her thirst for revenge going un-quenched, was growing restless. But so far...Snow had not come to try and rescue anyone.

Upon their arrival in this land, she had a small hiccup in the form of a father and son, native to this land, who had been camping too close to the place where the curse had carved the town out of the woods and ended up inside Storybrooke. At first she had wanted them to leave right away and urged Billy at the repair shop to fix Kurt's truck.

But then she had gotten to know them, especially his little boy, Owen, and realized what she might be missing in her life. Unfortunately, Kurt had seen too much and found her attempts to keep them in town excessive, to say the least. So she had no choice but to force them to stay. Except Owen had escaped and she couldn't risk Kurt telling anyone what he had seen. And she had to make sure Owen never led anyone back to their town so when he did return with authorities, a magical barrier kept him and them from seeing anything.

Then there was Kurt. She currently had him locked up, but she wasn't sure keeping it that way was feasible. She knew that meant she had to get rid of him. Permanently. Normally, she wouldn't think twice about eliminating people, let alone one person. But doing so without magic was decidedly more messy. Before, she could rip a heart and crush it, engulf a village with one fireball, or better yet, order her Knights to carry out an execution. But none of those were really options here in Storybrooke.

If she wanted Graham to do it, she'd have to wake him up and getting him back under the curse might not be so easy. Then there the option of a gun and it was definitely the quickest option. Until she read about lethal injection in her research she had been doing about this world. From what she had learned, it was a drug cocktail that was used in the executions of criminals in this world. It was injected and stopped the heart, ceasing all life function in seconds. It was perfect, because all hospitals had the necessary drugs to make it. So that was her goal. She would concoct the lethal injection herself in her vault and then she would recruit Nurse Ratchet to administer it for her. She was one person that wouldn't question what they were doing or bat an eye at the prospect of murdering a patient. Especially since Kurt's raving had led her to keeping him regularly sedated. She had easily fooled hospital administration into believing that Kurt was very disturbed and got the approval to keep him heavily medicated. But it was one loose end that Regina wanted to tie up and she decided that, since she had finished the concoction last night, that today would be the day. Kurt would meet a quick and painless end. Then she would bury him in the woods at the campsite where it was likely he would never be found.

David surfaced, as he towed the boat to the shores of Storybrooke. They knew they were in the right place, because there had been an invisible barrier that he could see in his mer-form. It masked the existence of the town from view, but once he had crossed through the barrier, a town appeared.

"This is it! I recognize that clock tower! I remember, because I asked my Dad why it didn't seem to work," Owen exclaimed.

"I'm afraid it doesn't work, because time doesn't move here," Snow answered him.

"Cause it's a curse?" he asked. She nodded and handed her husband his enchanted necklace. He put it on and returned to his human form, before offering his hand to her and helped her off the boat. He helped Owen too and then grabbed a towel, before drying off and putting his shirt back on.

"What now?" Owen asked.

"Well...we explore this town as quietly as possible and try to discern where Regina might have your father locked up," David replied.

"We'll have to be careful. No one remembers us and in a town this size...it won't take Regina long to hear about "strangers"," Snow reminded. He nodded, as he took her hand and they set off into town.

"So this is it? This is what she wanted?" David asked, not quite understanding.

"Well, she is the Mayor. That means she has a lot of power I guess," Owen deduced.

"I guess so...but I think the point of all this was punishing me," Snow said.

"Which she didn't get to do directly," he said, as he squeezed her hand.

"If she sees you...she'll stop at nothing to make you pay," David said fearfully.

"Which means we need to find Owen's father and leave," Snow replied, as they watched people mill about on the streets. She vaguely recognized some of them, but hadn't seen anyone she had been close to yet.

"They all seem relatively safe," Snow said encouragingly, as she looked around, but wasn't watching where she was going and bumped into someone.

"Oh...I'm so sorry," Snow said, as she started helping the woman pick up her things.

"It's okay...it was my fault. I'm so clumsy," the woman said. Snow looked up and realized that she recognized her.

"Nova?" she asked.

"I'm sorry?" the woman asked.

"Oh...I'm sorry, you just look like someone I used to know," Snow covered.

"That's okay...I'm sister Astrid," she said, as they shook hands.

"Um...Margaret. Margaret Nolan," she said.

"Oh...what a beautiful little girl," Astrid complimented, as she gushed over Emma.

"Thank you...this is my husband David and our...son Owen," she said, surprising the boy, but then it made sense that she would introduce him as such to create a plausible facade.

"And this little one is our daughter, Emma," she added.

"Emma...what a lovely name," another voice said. She turned and saw a man with a cane standing there. She gasped, for she almost didn't recognize him here. Back in their land, his skin had been leathery with a golden sheen, scraggly hair, and eyes bleeding with a craze like she had never seen. But here, he seemed like a perfectly normal man, albeit a disabled one. It was quite the contrast and suddenly, she saw recognition in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he growled. David looked at him suspiciously.

"You remember us?" the Prince asked.

"Not until I heard that name…" he replied in a hiss, as he looked at the Savior, who was much too young to do any saving.

"Her name?" David asked and then it dawned on Snow.

"That's why you wanted to know her name," she realized. He nodded curtly.

"The question is...why are you two here 27-years too early?" he questioned in annoyance.

"It's because of me," Owen chimed in fearfully, as he hid behind David.

"I see," Rumple said evenly.

"Look...we came here, because Regina has Owen's father and we couldn't stand by and let her rip another family apart," David replied.

"And you came, despite knowing that she will do everything to rip your family apart. In fact, she'll delight in it and then everything I have worked for could go up in smoke!" he hissed.

"Wait...you want the curse to be broken?" Snow questioned. He sighed.

"That's my business," he snapped.

"No...you do want it broken. That's why you wanted all this," David said, gesturing at the town.

"You wanted to come to this land. I'm don't know why, but you were adamant that Snow and I were together," he recalled.

"Yes...and the only reason I let you two escape when you chose to become mer-people was because I could see your arrival with your grown daughter in the future," Rumple responded.

"You let us escape?" Snow questioned.

"Of course, dearie...I could have easily stopped you had I not seen that things would still work. I almost did when you two chose not to take your human forms permanently again. I thought it would ruin everything, but then sometimes destiny is fated to happen, no matter what the circumstances," Rumple responded.

"And that destiny is Emma being the Savior?" David asked. He nodded.

"And what is she going to save you from exactly?" the prince asked suspiciously.

"That's none of your business," he snapped.

"No, it is my business, because she's my daughter!" he snapped back, as they stared at each other with hard lined expressions.

"All you need to know is that harm to your Emma is not part of it. You need to leave here with her...now," Rumple insisted.

"We can't leave until we've found Owen's father," Snow refuted. Rumple rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

"Your bleeding hearts are what gets you both in so much trouble! If she catches you...you'll both be locked up right alongside this little boy's father and there is no telling what will happen to Emma, but it won't be good. Because Regina knows your child can break her curse," he said.

"Then help us," David replied.

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"Help us find Owen's father and then we disappear again for twenty-seven more years," David offered. Rumple sighed and was seriously missing his magic right now. He had always respected and even admired David for his bravery and heroic nature. But damn if it didn't complicate things at times. It was so much easier to just take the easy road by using magic to do what he wanted and damned who it hurt. But such was a lonely path and it had cost him everyone he loved. Bae...and Belle eventually. That's why they were even here in this land in the first place. So he could find Baelfire someday and use their daughter to do it. Which meant he needed all of them protected at this point and if the only way to get them to leave town until it was time was to free this boy's father...then he would relent.

"Fine...across the street. Get in my shop. We have much to discuss," he hissed, as they followed him to the Pawn Shop.

"You're going to help us?" Owen asked.

"Only because I need them, boy...even if they are nothing but trouble," Gold grumbled. David smirked.

"Of course...after all, we can't have anyone thinking the Dark One has a heart," he quipped.

"I could care less about some boy and his father from this land," he lied. He would never admit that a father and son being separated pulled at the strings of his black heart and hit especially close to home.

"And I have about as much heart as you have tact, Charming," he hissed. But David just shook his head. Though he sometimes seemed thick, he had always known there was much more to the former shepherd beneath his heroics and princely facade. He and David both had humble beginnings and it was almost as if David could see beyond his scary display and prickly bluster. They understood each other, especially since David was a father now. The common ground between them was actually astounding and as much as he would deny it, David was probably the closest thing he would ever have to a friend. He would have to take a memory potion because of all this now. Yes...Charmings were nothing but trouble.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #feat baby emma #feat young owen #Snowing as mer-people #AU #the Evil Queen #Rumpelstiltskin #true love #romance #adventure #family #mysterious fathoms below

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