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meli-productions · 4 years ago

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Like A Good Neighbor...

Reposting with the writing in the body: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26580445 for the #ineffablehusbandsauweek

Tadfield was a sleepy town, dull except for the mischief of the children and the strands of gossip that mothers started when they were bored out of their minds. And betwixt the gossipers and the overzealous neighborhood watch, lived the elusive Mr. Aziraphale Fell and equally as mysterious Mr. Anthony J. Crowley.

Aziraphale was the local librarian and the kids of the town knew if they wanted the best hugs or a best place to hide, Mr. Fell was the man to go to. But if they wanted mischief and maybe a quick snack, it was Mr. Crowley they went to. He was a man of many talents - gardener, handyman, mechanic - whatever it was that Tadfield didn’t have he would become.

And these two were neighbors - just across the street - with a perfect view of each other’s home.

When Aziraphale moved to Tadfield to escape the chaos of London - and his overbearing family - he never thought about what he could be getting himself into. He’d just moved into his cottage now overflowing with his collection of books and hoped to settle into that mindset of early retirement - though he was far from that. The library job presented the perfect opportunity to do what he loved and still have money to fill his home with more books. What he didn’t expect was his neighbor across the street.

It had been raining when he moved, but the first day of sun revealed his neighbor across the street. The most gorgeous man he’d ever seen, shirt uncovering a smattering of freckles across his back and wisps of fiery red hair on his chest. Aziraphale was embarrassed to say that he’d left unpacking to a side to sit at the window and watch him tend to the garden.

He found out through the bored, gossipy wives that would perch themselves on his desk, that his name was Anthony Crowley and had moved there a few years prior. He kept mostly to himself unless he was doing odd jobs around town and even then they didn’t know anything about him.

“They don’t know anything because they’re not cool enough,” one of the kids, Adam, said as he sat and ate lunch with Aziraphale. “Mr. Crowley doesn’t like gossips - s’why he likes us .”

And he had taken a liking to the kids too. Adam and his friends, the Them, would spend their lunch with him and then take off into the summer day to have childhood fun. It was from them that he found out more about the mysterious Mr. Crowley and every drop of knowledge made Aziraphale more interested in getting to know his neighbor - but he chose to stay on his side, nose in his books.

What would such a handsome man want with a fussy old bookkeeper anyway?

Crowley knew that the entire town had his landline. It was the number he’d given the first gossipy neighbor when he went over to work on her sink. It’s how he was summoned for a job. So when he heard it ring, he bucked up and steadied himself for one of the town’s women to be on the other side asking him for something trivial - like pruning their already manicured bushes.

“ ‘Ello, Crowley here.”

“Erm, hello, dear,” said an unfamiliar voice from the other end. “I’m sorry to bother you but I was given your number in case something ever went wrong. And something has gone wrong.”

Crowley blinked a few times, “Okay, right. Might I ask who this is?”

“Oh,” the voice sounded mighty embarrassed. “That’s terribly rude of me. I’m Aziraphale…Fell, the new librarian, your - um - neighbor.”

His heart swooped down towards his stomach. The angel .

“Nice to - hear from you,” said Crowley, trying to sound cool despite the speeding of his heartbeat. “What seems to be the problem.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, then a shaky breath later, “There’s a leak in the library. Terribly inconvenient. And with the rain coming soon - ”

“Right. I’m on my way. Best to get it patched up soon. Wouldn’t want any of the books getting wet.”

“Oh, thank you, my dear. I should be at the front desk when you arrive.”

Crowley hung up and ran a hand through his hair, heart threatening to pound out of his chest. He glanced over at the table at the side of the door and stared at the package labeled ‘Aziraphale’, taking a moment to consider taking it before shaking the thought out of his head.

If all goes well , he thought. That gives me another excuse to see him .

He didn’t want to humor the idea that it wouldn’t go well.

In a few minutes, he found himself walking into the library and hoping his legs wouldn’t give out at the sight of the wide smile now being sent his way.

“Oh, thank you for coming so quickly,” Aziraphale said, reaching out a greeting hand. “Terrible way to introduce myself. And it’s usually not a big deal, but when I heard there’d be a storm - ”

Crowley gave the hand a quick shake, trying not to focus on the softness of the fingers in his, “Not a problem. Just show me where the leak is and I’ll see how bad it is.”

Aziraphale kept fussing and worrying, a cute little pout curling his lips, while Crowley took a closer look at his recent obsession.

Even from a distance, Crowley had noticed how stunning his neighbor was - from the tip of his comfy shoes to the last curl of that cloud of white-blond. He saw that there was a subtle strength to his softness and wanted to know more, even when his stormy hazel eyes turned to him, worried, Crowley wanted nothing more than to sink into the warmth he knew was held inside this man.

Aziraphale gave a little point up towards the vaulted roof of the building where he could see a little patch of wet.

“There’s the leak. Usually comes straight down without touching any of the books but - ”

“No point risking it,” said Crowley. “Not a problem. Should be easy enough to patch up. Is there roof access?”

“Right this way, dear boy.”

And if Crowley, in his ogling, let his gaze linger a little longer on the tight pull of fabric over the ample arse, well, only he would know.

Aziraphale felt like the world was testing him. Not only were the threats of storms looming over the leaky hole in the library, but now he had to pretend he hadn’t been staring at the lithe body of his neighbor who was now a lot closer than he’d ever been to him.

Yes, he was being tested and tempted in the worst way. He kept turning towards the ladder that led up to the roof hoping to catch a glimpse of the sinful dipping hips or the supple muscles of Anthony.

Luckily, the man in question had been engrossed in his work since he arrived and hadn’t noticed anything untoward in the librarian’s eyes, but it was nearing lunch and he’d hate to be the cause that the man didn’t eat.

Buck up, Aziraphale .

He squared his shoulders and peeked up the ladder, “Anthony, dear, it’s near lunch. Please come down and rest.”

Glasses hidden eyes peeked down, “Nah, not hungry. Almost done anyway.”

Aziraphale gave a little hmph, “Absolutely not. You’ve been working nonstop. Come down. Rest. Have a snack at least, then you can finish up,” he waited as he heard Crowley grumbling something about ‘snacks’ and then added, “Please?”

A sigh. Then, “Alright, you win. I’m heading down.”

Wriggling happily, Aziraphale moved out of the way and kept his eyes trained on the doorframe so as to not catch an eyeful of legs, rear, shoulders and back.

Crowley stretched, hands on the curve of his back as he cracked this way and that, “Right. Got any snack machines?”

Aziraphale shot him an appalled look, “Absolutely not - and I’m not going to put you through the horror of junk food. Come, I have some food to share - ”

“That’s not necessary- ”

“It isn’t, but, regardless, I will do it,” he said and, feeling bold, took a hold of Crowley’s forearm to lead him to the desk. “I always pack extra just in case the children come around - but considering the weather they won’t wander this far.”

Aziraphale settled him in a seat and smiled at the bright blush highlighting the freckles across the cheekbones, he was surprised that his own face wasn’t burning but gave thanks to the universe for giving him at least that win.

“You’re not allergic to anything, are you dear?”

“Ngk, n-no.”

“Wonderful.”

He pulled out his lunchbox and divided the leftover mushroom risotto between two, handing Crowley a plate which the man looked over with an amused knit to his eyebrows.

“This isn’t really a snack .”

Aziraphale huffed and shot him a look, “Then join me for lunch , Anthony dearest.”

The blush returned to the angular face across from him, “Seems like it’s too late to ask, angel, but I accept the offer. Could be worse - could be eating lunch with the raven that made a nest on the roof.”

“Well, I’m glad that I’m better company than a bird,” he said, then processed Crowley’s words. “Angel?”

Without noticing the cornered expression on his companion’s face, Aziraphale continued, “Oh? You know about my name?”

Crowley was still for a moment, then deflated, “Yes, ‘course, that’s why I called you angel, innit? Unless - unless it bothers you?”

“No,” he responded, much too quick, then blushed. “N-no, it’s fine. Never been called that before.”

“Pity,” said Crowley, shoving risotto in his mouth. “‘S g’d.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they ate the food. Aziraphale offered a few grapes that were turned down with a little shake of a head and a smaller smile.

“You’ll spoil me.”

Oh, you so deserve to be spoiled - “It’s the least I could do for how quickly you’ve done this work.”

“Right, best go finish it. Gotta make sure none of your books get wet. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

“Mind how you go, dear. Say hello to that raven for me.”

An hour before closing, Crowley leaned against the check out desk and checked out the distracted librarian cataloguing books with his glasses perched precariously at the end of his nose.

He’d never had a thing for librarians - but now he understood what they had meant by sexy librarians.

Breaking himself out of that train of thought before it dragged lower, Crowley cleared his throat and watched as the focused hazel eyes softened.

“Oh, dear boy, thank you so much,” he said, eyes shining as he smiled. “How much do I owe you?”

Crowley shook his head, “Free of charge, Aziraphale. And before you argue it,” he said, noticing the frown and opening mouth, “I know that this is a local library - runs off scraps. Take it as my civic duty.”

“As grateful as I am, I can’t just not give you anything,” said Aziraphale, hands strangling the hem of his sweater. “I wouldn’t be able to rest.”

“Just - “ Crowley hesitated, then, with his most charming smile said, “just make me dinner and we’ll call it even?”

Aziraphale stalled in his wringing, eyes widening as he glanced up, “Of course. I’m not that great a cook, but if you liked it I’ll swing by later this week and drop something off.”

Crowley felt like thumping his head on the counter, but he continued, “You’re not getting off that easy - ” then winced at his poor choice of words, “erm, what I mean is - good food isn’t worth it if there’s no good company.”

It was worth the awkwardness to see the sugar-plum cheeks pinken prettily and Aziraphale nodded, “Ah, yes. Um, what - what do you say to Friday night? 8 o’clock?

Blood thundering, Crowley beamed, “Sound great. I’ll bring wine, angel.”

In a small town like Tadfield, nothing remained quiet for too long. The neighborhood had seen Crowley atop the library like a beacon and so Aziraphale was assaulted by the curious women wondering what had happened and what the librarian had thought of his elusive neighbor.

They were also quick to notice the dusting of pink on Aziraphale’s face when he mentioned that it was ‘a simple thing and Anthony completed it right on time.’

Soon the rumor mill started spinning and the next thing he knew, Crowley found himself holding the yarn of old Mrs. Galloway being interrogated on what he thought of the ‘darling librarian’. And how could he keep from the eagle-eyed woman that he thought he’d gone to heaven when he looked into those hazel eyes.

“But you can’t go and tell those vultures that,” hissed Crowley. “They’ll scare him away.”

Mrs. Galloway just gave a thoughtful hum and continued knitting - but said vultures didn’t find out anything. All they knew is just that they’d seen a dopey-looking Crowley dancing into his house with a paper bag on Thursday afternoon and out of the house dressed neater and more handsome then he’d ever looked on Friday night.

What they didn’t know is that tucked underneath the bottle of wine in his hands was the package he’d been hiding for the past couple of weeks - the conversation topic he was hoping would connect him with the angel across the street from him.

He knocked and waited, leg bouncing with nervous energy and stilling only when he heard the click of the door.

Aziraphale was alight from behind by the light of the house and it made him look more angelic than ever as the golden glow danced through his curls and off the tan and blue of his outfit.

“Come in, dear, it’s much too wet to be hanging about,” and he pulled Crowley in without a second thought. “Let me put your coat on the rack, don’t want you catching your death in those clothes.”

Crowley thought he’d risk a cold every day if it meant being fussed over by Aziraphale who helped him out of his leather jacket. Every brush of fingers against his body set heat running through every cell.

Clearing his throat, he held out the bottle, “Brought wine, as promised.”

Noticing the year, Aziraphale made an appreciative noise, “This is lovely, dear, I’m going to go ahead and put this on ice. Take a seat, make yourself at home, we’ve got a couple more tics ‘till the food’s ready.”

As he slipped into the kitchen, Crowley made sure to watch him wishing he was the cozy sweater just to hold him that close and then took a seat at the little table. There was a book sitting on it, Pride and Prejudice, and felt the package in his hands grow heavier in his lap.

“Here, dearest, have a glass. It’s not as good as what you brought for us but - ” Aziraphale faltered as he saw the furrowed brow sinking into the frames of Crowley’s sunglasses, “What’s wrong?”

“I - I have something of yours,” said Crowley, slipping off his glasses. “I’ve been - selfishly holding onto it because I wanted a reason to come over - now it just feels creepy and I’m thinking I should just go back home.”

“What- ”

The brown-paper package slid onto the table - a rectangle, hefty, that could only be a book addressed to Aziraphale from a ‘Gabriel’. Crowley, heart heavy and feet even heavier, stood.

“Sorry, angel. I’ll just - get out of your hair,” he said, glasses dangling at the tip of his fingers and he made his way out - until a hand tugged his wrist and stopped him mid-shuffle.

He met Aziraphale’s warm expression, a small and shy smile playing on his face, “I made too much food for just one person - be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Another tug brought him closer to Aziraphale’s warmth and the manicured fingers plucked the glasses out of his fingers, “Sit back down, darling boy. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just a package from my brother - probably some sort of self-help book he’s so fond of sending me. No harm, no foul. And,” he gave a little laugh at this, “at least you had a plan - I was just resigned to watching you from my window.”

At the stunned expression from Crowley, Aziraphale sighed, “My dear, I’ve been trying to gather up the courage to have a conversation with you since the first time I saw you in your garden - but I’m a foolish old man- ”

“Not that old,” muttered Crowley.

“ - but you were brave enough for us both.” continued Aziraphale, ignoring the interruption. “Now, you are going to stay right there, I am going to serve us both a wonderful serving of pasta alla puttanesca and, if you’re still interested after dinner, we can enjoy dessert.”

Crowley studied the man who said dessert, but looked like he’d meant dessert , and felt his lips twitch up, “Well, can’t say no to an offer like that.”

Aziraphale beamed, “Good. Now, be a dear and open that package up for me while I get our plates.”

The damned package sat there, teasing, so Crowley ripped it open, laughing when he read the title.

“What’s so funny?”

Holding the book up to Aziraphale, the two of them looked at each other and broke out into laughter, moving the book out of the way as they dug into their food.

Gabriel - with the wisdom only sibling intuition could bring - had sent Aziraphale the one thing he knew his brother would need:

How to Get a Date in 10 Easy Steps.

#ineffablehusbandsauweek #ineffable husbands au week #Ineffable Husbands #aziraphale #crowley #crowley x aziraphale #neighbors au #human au #handyman crowley #librarian aziraphale #sexy librarian aziraphale #but probably only to crowley #mentions of the them #adam young #the them #mentions of gabriel #nosy neighbors #gossipy neighbors

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snowbellewells · 7 years ago

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“Always Running”

Here’s the second “Once Upon a Time” story I ever wrote. Once again, this is general cast of characters; mostly focusing on Ruby and a bit of her friendship with Snow. It’s been pretty fun really digging back into my earliest OuaT fic writings lately. Whoever started the whole #ouat fandom crescendo idea off - I’m really digging it! :). Hope you all are having fun reading! Tomorrow will be the first official CS ff I ever wrote, set on the way to Neverland…

Some of this obviously might not quite fit in with canon, but I still think it deals with some realistic and interesting feelings and motives for Ruby/Red’s character. I’d say it fits in somewhere between “Children of the Moon” and “The Outsider” during season two, but has some definite AU elements as well.

“Always Running”

By: snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on ff.net)

Run, run, run!... Faster…please…If I can just get as far away from here as possible… Her feet pound on the hard soil, branches whip through her long, dark hair and claw at her face as she flies in fear from the temptation to destroy. She is panting, her heart racing, senses fully aware of the stench of terror and blood on the stormy night wind. Only moments ago, everything had been perfect – blissfully so – she and Peter alone together under a gorgeous, full moon, making plans for the rest of their lives together, once she got him through this night. Now, Red finds herself running like a startled rabbit or a leaf before a maelstrom. Still, no matter how quickly she flees, it will never be swift enough to leave behind what she has done.

She is the wolf! How did she not know?! So many things make sense now – now that it is too late. It is suddenly clear why she has always been able to separate and follow certain scents, the way she hears things no one else can, why it has never frightened her to wander into the woods, even when the other children won’t. Peter often says…

Peter! His name: the name she has called on since they were six years old and catching frogs in the creek or fetching kindling for his father’s forge; suddenly, it stabs a knife to the very core of her heart. Vines and needled brush rip at her bare hands and catch at her skirt and cloak, her breath grows ragged – a sharp, aching pain settling under her ribs – but Red continues to race further into the black of night and the forest’s depths. Images of his adoring gaze, his messy, tufted, black hair standing up in cowlicks he could never tame, his strong hands and warm smile, all flash through her mind in dizzying succession, battering her with the fleeting idyll their growing up together and brief young love had been. Peter has always been with her, for as long as she can remember. What will she do now that he is gone? How can she live with herself? It’s all her fault. She is the wolf! The man she loves is dead, and she killed him!

Red wonders if she will ever stop running now. With what she has done, she will never belong anywhere, never be able to rest. She cannot return to her sleepy little village, where her neighbors are still hunting the wolf, where she has lived a lie with her granny, where she played and snuck kisses and dreamed dreams with Peter and will now see his absence everywhere.

The past hour still replays in vicious detail, looping through her mind. Peter’s trusting face resurfaces continually. He let her chain him to a tree, thinking that she could keep him from turning into the dreaded monster. Instead, she sentenced him to death and led him like a lamb to the slaughter. It is too much to be forced to relive: hearing him beg for recognition, and then the animal growl in her other form’s throat, her reasoning mind not housed in the savage, primal body that stalked toward the boy she loves without care for his pleas. She ripped him apart, and knows she will never have peace from the lurid, unsettling memories.

Eventually even supernatural endurance runs out, and Red falls to the wet, mossy ground, panting, curling into a ball and feeling tears wet her cheeks, neck, and chest as they pour silent and unchecked from her eyes. If she were in her lupine form, she would be howling to the remorseless moon, cursed not by her werewolf other half, but by the knowledge of it which has come too late. The moonlight bathes her pale skin, giving it an otherworldly glow, beautiful even in her sorrow. Anyone who could see her would wish to hold her, to comfort her, but the only arms she longs for are gone now, never to return…

~0~ ~0~ ~0~ ~0~ ~0~ ~0~

Sometime later, in Storybrooke, Maine…

Each morning when Ruby Lucas wakes in her little apartment above Granny’s diner, she stares out the window peacefully for just a moment, letting herself bask happily in the dawn of a new day’s sun, smiling at its warmth on her face, stretching her arms above her head, working the kinks from her back and relishing the few blissful seconds of still-sleepy haze before it all returns to her. She does not get long until she remembers that she is also Red Riding Hood – and a werewolf – and though she lives in a town full of real-life fairy tale characters, True Love’s Kiss, and magical adventure, her handsome prince will never ride up to find her on his gleaming white horse; she lost her chance for a happily ever after long ago.

Once that all floods back into her memory, there is nothing for Ruby to do but turn from the morning light at the window and dress for the day before heading down to the diner to work. Wearing red, as she never fails to do, Ruby sighs, not sure if she means it as a warning sign or some sort of penitent self-reprisal. She knows this day too will be the same as the day before and the endless procession of days to come. She was once so blissfully naïve – still a little girl really, in her former existence – and unaware of the beast which had been lurking within all the time. Now that Emma has broken the curse, Ruby knows that people look at her as some sort of confusing curiosity. Those who knew her in their real home, as Red, cannot understand where the brazen, flirtatious, outrageously dressed siren of Storybrooke comes from, but Ruby doesn’t have the heart to explain. She isn’t so sure it can be explained, even if she were to try. That carefree, innocent young girl in love is gone; she isn’t that sweet youth roaming the fields and meadows with her childhood best friend and sweetheart anymore. She can never be that person again, and it feels to her that outwardly she shouldn’t pretend. The difference needs to be clear, so that some other poor victim doesn’t get too close.

Thank goodness for Granny – and even more for Snow! Now that she knows Mary Margaret again for her long-lost friend, she is grateful for the other woman’s constancy and acceptance. Snow did not abandon her on that horrible night Peter died, nor has she anytime since. Snow had gotten her moving again, arm around her quaking shoulders in the darks woods so long ago, before the mob could catch her. The two of them had found a cabin far out on its own, just as they had talked about, where both of them could hide away. Sometimes, she still has to get away – to escape, to run – when she is afraid of herself and what she might do, as well as what she has already done. Those are the times when she heads for the woods on the edge of town, intending to shift and then run until she is so exhausted she couldn’t hurt the tiniest kitten. Only then does she return, often to Mary Margaret’s apartment where she falls into an overstuffed chair next to her old friend, accepts the hot cocoa offered her, and marvels at the fact that Mary Margaret, her friend Snow White, doesn’t flinch at all despite what she knows, but instead picks bits of leaves and twigs out of her hair and listens to her countless fears and worries of what could happen if she ever slips again. This comfort and companionship reminds her that they were happy once before as well, in their little cabin in the wild, until Charming, the Evil Queen, King George, and then the curse, brought the rest of the world right onto their doorstep.

Ruby tries to push it all from her mind as she reaches her post behind the counter of the diner, ready for Leroy wanting his sausage and hash browns, Archie hoping for some French toast before he sees any patients for the day, and Emma coming in to pick up doughnuts for herself and David at the station. Ruby squares her shoulders, ties on her miniscule apron, and aims to start fresh on this new day. Granny passes by on her way to start a fresh pot of coffee brewing, and pats her kindly on the shoulder, as if knowing the thoughts that are circling in her granddaughter’s head. The little smile the older woman graces her with seems to say, “Keep your chin up.”

Also trying not to watch the clock creep from one endless minute to the next, Ruby refills several earlier guests’ mugs and glances out the window at the main street. Just then, the glint of early morning sunlight on the metallic paint of an old pick-up truck which has just parked outside catches her eye. Knowing pretty much every person in town – and what they drive – the unfamiliar vehicle arrests her attention.

That intrigue only grows when a tall, dark-headed stranger wearing deep-tinted aviator sunglasses, a beat-up denim jacket, and work boots gets out and heads up the walk, through their door, and right to the counter where she stands waiting. Ruby knows that she has never seen him before, but his mischievous, crooked smile envelopes her in his friendly mirth as if they are old friends. Something familiar twinkles in his eyes and makes her stomach clench strangely, heart lurching into her throat as he takes off the shades and tucks the earpiece into his breast pocket. It’s a feeling she has almost forgotten – that she has spent ages trying to forget – telling herself she will never be able to experience it again. And yet, she can’t help smiling back welcomingly, suddenly hoping that he won’t walk away.

Granted, there aren’t usually newcomers to Storybrooke, but Emma came, and that has more than turned out alright. Ruby finds that at this moment, she doesn’t even care where he is from, as long as he stays, talks to her, keeps smiling at her the way he is right now. “Welcome to Granny’s Diner,” she greets brightly. “I’m Ruby. What can we get for you this morning?”

“Pete,” he tells her, reaching out to shake hands and kindly pretending not to notice the sharp intake of breath she draws in surprise. “I hear this is the place to eat, and it’s also where one figures out who’s who and what’s going on in this town.” He winks at her slyly as he speaks, and Ruby’s poor dusty, disused heart flutters despite her.

“You heard right,” she manages, flushing prettily as she nods to him, and batting her eyelashes without even realizing it. She doesn’t want to go against her own rules which she has spent so long telling herself are for the best, but in the wake of this stranger’s charm and inexplicable familiarity, she’s helpless. “This is the place.”

“What do you recommend?” he tosses back playfully, and she blinks rapidly, stunned, as that stabbing pain in her heart, the one she has been shrinking from ever since that horrible night so long ago – the night the wolf emerged and Peter was lost – returns.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, backing away from him, not meeting his eyes any longer and looking to the door into the back of the diner. “I – I can’t…I’m sorry.” Before he can protest or say anything more, she turns tail and flees for the kitchen.

Slipping through the door and then leaning back against it to rest her beating heart, she tries to collect herself. Her pulse is racing, and she forces herself to take several deep breaths. When she finally feels some semblance of calm, she turns to peek around the swinging door back out the way she has come. Granny is helping the newcomer now, but he sees Ruby over Granny’s shoulder and holds her eyes. There is something so playful in his gaze when he smirks at her, not letting her get away with hiding from him. It is warm, comforting, and almost as though she remembers the touch of that gaze from long ago. He smiles – a dare meant specifically for her. If she didn’t know better, Ruby would think he knew everything: all her past, who she really is, and that none of it scared him at all. It should make her want to run, but for some reason – it gives her hope.

~0~ ~0~ ~0~ ~0~ ~0~

The next night finds her running again, but it is different this time. The light autumn breeze envelopes her like cool silk, ghosting over her skin pleasantly. Ruby smiles, feeling powerful and in control, and allowing herself to enjoy being one with the night. She had learned to control the wolf once upon a time long ago; she knows now that she can allow it to have a part is who she is without letting it tearing her in two. The curse and this strange new land made her doubt her ability to be both safely at first, but both sides of her do still exist, and she must somehow embrace them both.

She careens through the trees and the open clearings, with neither fatigue nor pain to slow her down, and she doesn’t stop until reaching the stream by the Troll Bridge. For the first time in what she knows has been an age, she allows herself to feel that she may not always be running alone in the night. Tipping back her head, Ruby howls with joy instead of pain at that round, white orb in the sky. Somewhere still under this moon, there may be another who can run beside her. She may always be running, but she doesn’t have to be running away, running from… Maybe there will at last be something, or someone, she can run to.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @flslp87 @captain-swan-coffee @branlovesouat @ilovemesomekillianjones @spartanguard @drowned-dreamer @midnightswans @singingisfun @ps1473-4 @jackieorioncat @blackwidownat2814 @jennjenn615 @lessawildmoon

#ouat fandom crescendo #ouat oneshot ff #ruby lucas #red snow friendship #ouat s2 canon divergent fic

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