#and out of nowhere. after about 2 weeks in my camp and nothing changing during that time

[chaosintheavenue]

76 followers: Is Del Lawson glitchy AF for everybody? Specifically in the dialogue department?

[doctorho]

Holy Darkness, pt. 1

hello! my peeps! what's up!!!

it's here! the vampire au! i have no idea how long i'm gonna make this thing, we'll see where the Vibes take us.

this is going to be vampire!Viktor x gender neutral reader multichapter fic

2,3k words, no warnings. i mean, general spooky vibes, but we all know he isn't actually evil okay. i mean the reader doesn't know that. yet. but we know that. right?

(some backstory for this fic idea here and here)

I mean. It’s not like you meant to trespass on the property of the nocturnal hermit living in a rundown abandoned library.

Or maybe you did. A little bit. But that’s not the point. 

The point is that you’re there now, in the quiet darkness, surrounded by the scent of wet leaves and heavy silence; the kind that drips down the back of your neck and tingles as it curls around your spine. 

It had been a perfectly ordinary night, so far. You’d closed up the small bookshop you worked at, quietly getting everything ready for the next day, swept the floors, just like you always did. You’d eaten dinner alone in your small quiet apartment, just like you always did. You’d put out some food for the too-thin stray cat that hung around your street, and wished, bone-deep, that something in your small quiet life would change.

Just like you always did.

It wasn’t bad, your life. It was actually pretty good, considering. But it was boring. Stagnant. And you just…wanted something more. The town was small and quiet and nothing much ever happened – the most exciting event of your week was usually the gossip you overheard at the weekly book club meetings, which didn’t exactly make you feel better about your own life. A good percentage of the elderly ladies in the book club (or their neighbors) seemed to lead more exciting lives than you did. 

You shouldn’t compare yourself to others, you knew that. But your life was boring, and you spent your days surrounded by books; epic adventures, romances that made your heart melt, countless stories where someone gets thrown into a land straight out of your imagination, fantasies where there’s a whole other world just a breath away from this one– 

It made your own life seem even more boring in comparison. 

And it didn’t exactly help that the only thing this town had going for itself – besides the book club – was that there was an abandoned library that was, allegedly, inhabited by a hermit, who – allegedly – might have been a vampire. 

You weren’t sure how much of that story was true. Yes, there was the abandoned library, condemned to be closed down years ago after some unfortunate water damage and lack of funding to rebuild it. Yes, there seemed to be someone living in there. Sometimes you saw lights on in the windows, things that had moved around as if on their own. Someone seemed to be taking care of the property, too, at least to some extent. 

Yes, no-one ever really saw this person out during daylight hours. 

All anyone knew was that 1) there seemed to be someone living there, 2) the collective guess was that it was a man, probably pretty young, and definitely a loner.

And at some point the collective understanding had also accepted that this man was, allegedly, a vampire.

You weren’t sure you believed that last part. Vampires were, technically, not recognized by science. You’d never met one, that you knew of. But…they were a stable factor in local folklore, and all those stories had to come from somewhere. Right?

And…the longer you stood there, watching the dark building and the dim golden light pouring out from the windows, the more you started to entertain the thought that maybe vampires existed, and maybe this man was one of them. 

He seemed to lead an unusual life, and yeah, maybe he was just a hermit, but…for some reason you couldn’t quite convince yourself of that. No-one just appears out of nowhere and sets up camp in an abandoned building, never to be seen in daylight again.

You’d seen his shadow in the window a few times, passing by. You couldn’t see much of his features, but he was lean, like people had said. You stayed hidden the best you could – this was the first time you’d gotten this close – and just…tried to win this internal fight with yourself about whether you should turn around and go home right now or just get a little bit closer. Just stay a little bit longer. 

(You weren’t sure which side of your brain you were hoping would win).

You knew it was stupid, being there. 

You didn’t know how dangerous this man was, vampire or not. For all you knew he could have been 100% human and still been a murderer or something. 

But you were curious. 

That’s all it boiled down to. 

You didn’t want anything from this man. You just wanted to know. Who he was, what he was doing in there–

and if vampires really existed. 

Maybe you should be blaming all those fantasy books in your shop, but – dammit – you wanted to know if something more than this boring human existence really was out there. It was like an itching in your bones; you wanted to know. Your soul refused to settle, and it got more and more restless the longer you went on with your normal little life.

Besides, the man lived in a library. You had no idea how many books were in there that no-one in this town even remembered anymore. 

You wanted to know. 

That’s what makes you stay. Even when half your brain and most of your blood was constantly telling you that you should go, leave, now. 

You don’t really even have a plan. It’s not like you’re going to just knock and go up to him and say hey, I was wondering, what’s your deal? 

Yeah. You weren’t going to do that. 

What you were planning on doing was just…sort of circling that idea, the possibility of maybe running into him. Walking just on the edge of the property, telling yourself it’s not on purpose. Stopping to see if there’s a light in the windows tonight. That’s it.

It’s not like you were planning on actually going to talk to him. 

So when he’s suddenly standing in front of you, you don’t know what to say. Or do.

He is standing there, all sharp-edged in the shadows, dark and tall and silent, and looking at you with the most intense eyes you’ve ever seen. 

There’s a moment, when you’re just staring at him, where you feel like your heart beats a hollow beat and everything in the night is silent. The shadows seem to twirl around him, though that was probably just your imagination. Probably.

“Is there a reason you’re lingering in the shadows out here?” He asks, his voice a quiet, captivating drawl. 

He seems calm, the kind of stationary bottom-of-the-sea calm that you’d only seen in very intelligent animals before. 

(You try to quiet the part of your brain that tries to substitute ‘animals’ with ‘predators’, and you try your best to keep your breathing even. It takes more effort than it should).

His eyes were golden, deep golden, and that definitely wasn’t usual for…humans. 

And there was something about his features that made you instantly accept that if vampires existed, and this man was one, you wouldn’t be the least bit surprised. 

“No,” you answer, and the word is so light that it feels like a lie as soon as it leaves your lips.

You’re not sure what kind of vampiric powers this man might have, but you’re suddenly worried that he might be able to hear your heartbeat, which was definitely way faster than it should have been. 

“Hm.” He says, still looking at you, as if he was studying you.

You both pretend that he isn’t the reason you’re there. Or, you pretend he isn’t, and he pretends he doesn’t know that. 

You take a deep breath.

“What are the chances you would just go back inside and forget I was ever here?” You ask, trying to sound like you weren’t worried about what the alternative to that might be.

“Very low,” he answers, straight-forward, and then he tilts his head slightly and his eyes trail over you. 

He was still studying you.

“I don’t get many…visitors.” He says, and then he smiles. It’s a small, knowing, stupidly attractive smile, and, god, yeah, the man definitely has small fangs. Christ. Was it like a feature that vampires were attractive to like, lure you in? Was that a thing they did? 

He couldn't read your thoughts, could he?

“So it is not likely that I’ll forget you were ever here, no.” He continues, “but if you want me to, I will go back inside.” He meets your eyes, “if you tell me why you’re really here.”

You swallow. 

Fine, that was reasonable. You were on his property. 

Well. Technically it was still probably the town’s property. But still. In essence it was his now. 

You take a deep breath and try to silence the annoyingly rattling part of your monkey-brain that was still tugging at you to run away, be smart, please-  

The longer you dissect this situation in your brain though, the clearer it becomes. 

Yes, you were currently in a dark secluded space with a stranger. Who might be a vampire.

But…he hadn’t actually done anything to scare you, had he?

He hadn’t threatened you. 

He seemed quite reasonable, actually. 

And if he wanted to hurt you, he could have done that already. Many times over.

But instead, he was out here. Making civil conversation.

Did you really even want him to go back inside?

Wasn’t this why you were here? To find out more about him? 

You swallow, lick your lips, and then meet his eyes. Take a breath. 

“I was curious.”

“About?” He counters, watching you, tilting his head, as if he didn’t already know. 

You furrow your eyes a little bit. Just look at him for a few seconds. He just waits for you to answer, patiently. 

“You.” You finally answer. Hold his gaze.

“Ah.” He says, then nods slowly and smiles again, faintly. “Me.” 

Then, he looks at you again, now with something more purposeful in his eyes. More…interested. “Why?”

You blink. Go through a quick mental check of what your choices were here; you could lie – and say what?

Or you could tell the truth, and see where it took you. 

And – honestly? You were still curious. 

So you shrug with one shoulder, trying your best to seem casual about it. Pretend your heart wasn’t still pounding. 

“I was curious,” You answer, “about the mysterious stranger living in the abandoned library.”

He looks at you. Studies you. Nods slowly. 

"Hm." he says again. "Well, here I am." 

You take a deep breath. 

He shifts his weight. 

"What would you like to know?" He asks, remarkably casually. Like an offering. Or, possibly, a bait.

You take it, whichever one it was.

One way to find out.

"Who are you?" 

You start with the obvious, though you're not really sure what kind of an answer you're hoping for. 

"My name is Viktor." He says, simply, still with the ghost of a smile on his face. 

Nice. A name. Progress. 

Viktor.

That still didn't tell you much about what he was really doing here, but it was a start. 

You offer your own name in return, hoping not to seem rude. Not that he'd do much with your name; it wasn't very likely that you two would become pen pals or something. 

"And you've just…been living in our rundown library?" 

"Yes," he answers, shifting his weight a bit again, and again, looking at you like he was inspecting you. Waiting for something.

"Why?" 

He tilts his head a little. "That is," he says, "not a one-word answer." 

"Most answers aren't." You answer, before you can really think it through. This whole situation was absurd; were you really out here just… having a casual conversation with this cryptid of a man? 

He makes a sound that is… close to a chuckle. More of an exhale, but still. You can hear it loud and clear in the quiet darkness, and that makes it feel like he’s much closer to you than he actually is. Like the small sound fills the air around you.

"That is true." He says after a moment. Then, he takes a breath. Visibly. 

So he wasn't at least entirely undead then. 

"How about we make a deal." he offers, "I'll tell you," he meets your eyes again and smiles a little, "for a price."

"And what might that be?" You ask in return, entertaining the idea, and trying your best to seem casual about it.

His smile widens. "One of those strawberry pies from the bakery, and your favorite book."

You blink. How he knew about the strawberry pies, you weren't sure, but you weren't about to question that now. The answer could have been a lot worse, so you'll take strawberry pie, sure. 

"Do I need to point out that you literally live in a library?" 

He shifts his weight again, leaning more heavily on his cane. "A library that hasn't gotten any new books in years."

You look at him. Really look at him. 

So this alleged-vampire, nocturnal cryptid hermit of a man, had just offered to tell you his life story, in exchange for a pie and a book? 

Yeah, if you were honest with yourself, you were never going to not take that deal. 

"Okay," you tell him, "my place or yours?" 

His lips quirk up a little. "Mine," he answers, "I think that's probably best." Then, he nods slowly and meets your eyes. "It's quiet and peaceful in there."

He smiles, just enough for you to get a glimpse of his teeth again, and it's the most sharp-edged-beautiful thing you've seen in a while.

Something curls around your spine in the darkness, and you're still not sure if it was a bait or an offering that you took.

You're not sure you care.

[herbalsingularitea]

Jolly Old Saint Bernard (x Reader) (Chapter 2)

Summary - Bernard’s voice was ice. “And we’re quite aware of the climate change issue, thanks. We’re working on it.”

“You’re working on it? Okay, great, nothing to worry about then since Saint Bernard and his 200 year old research team is working on the whole ‘climate change issue’. And when can we expect a solution, chief?”

Pairing - Bernard x gn!Reader

Word Count - 5004

Looking for Chapter 1? Check the Holly Jolly Masterpost pinned to my blog.

Chapter 2 - Chestnuts Roasting

(December 26th, afternoon) 

The human had been set up for about a week now, apparently. The week leading up to Christmas, it was horrible timing. Usually humans wouldn’t be able to get this close without some strategic deterrents sent their way to make them want to turn back themselves. Faced with a dangerous storm, a hungry polar bear, or a sudden crack in the sea ice, a human is much more likely to give up and leave. If they think exploring the arctic wasn’t worth it on their own then that tends to be more effective than if someone tries to convince them there’s nothing to see here, curious stubborn creatures that they are. 

Bernard typed out a message to the Elfcon team on his watch asking about this obvious oversight. How had this human slipped through? 

According to the team, their arrival was noted as they first made camp about 20 miles away and a snowstorm was sent to make conditions uncomfortable enough that they’d leave on their own. The report was sent to his office and he’d signed off on it himself. He could vaguely remember something about that, but he had been busy directing the Core teams on the final stretch to Christmas. An elf scout had been sent out to check on them during the storm; they didn’t want to accidentally freeze the human to death after all. But while the tent and supplies were still there, they and their snowmobile were nowhere to be found. With Christmas on the horizon and no reliable way to confirm their departure with radar once the storm started, the elves assumed they had left. Not so, apparently. 

They were approximately two miles east of Bernard and the reindeer and over a small ridge of icy cliffs, less than 10 miles away from the entrance to Santa’s Village. The thought of a human stumbling onto their little secret was enough to make Bernard break out into a sweat. His head throbbed as he looked at the 8 uncertain reindeer out in the open. They weren’t quite as far out from the Village as they’d normally want to go, but the cliffs blocked the human from seeing them here. He hopped off Dancer and told them all that this year they’d have to keep it confined to the small stretch from here to the Village and a southern flat patch that was around 8 miles total. Not nearly as good as they deserved, but this was a delicate situation here. He placed a small tracker on Dancer’s antler and told her to keep close to the other deer so he could find them all if they needed a quick getaway. She nuzzled his face in response and he gave her a pat before heading out on his own towards the cliffs. If this human wouldn’t leave by conventional means, then he’d have to get confrontational about it. An elf’s gotta do what an elf’s gotta do, afterall. 

You were freezing your ass off here. Your pop up tent wasn’t as warm as your main tent at home camp, but luckily you’d found a little divot in the ice cliff you’d stumbled upon in the storm. It was enough to cut the wind at least and offer enough shelter to help your thin little travel tent keep your body heat trapped. You were glad you had the thought to bring your backpack when you had seen the storm coming and took off on your snowmobile to find XJ-17’s trail. There were plenty of warm layers, rations, fire starters, and flares. You weren't worried about freezing to death, but it certainly was an inconvenience. You had a nice cozy set up at your home camp, which was… somewhere. That was kind of your current problem. When you saw the storm starting, you were worried it would cover the polar bear tracks you’d found your first day on site. You didn’t even get to properly determine which direction the bear was traveling before snow started falling. You thought maybe if you just rushed out to the last place you saw prints, you could get an idea of where to start when the storm blew over. Alas, the way to hell is paved, yadda yadda.

You got lost almost immediately.

None of your radar equipment worked in the storm and surprise, surprise: the one thing you did not have in your backpack? A compass. So onward you’d traveled, practically blind in the storm, looking for something, anything you could use to find your way. When you hit the cliffs you knew you’d definitely not gone the right way and decided to hunker down and wait out the weather. It had been a solid week, if your watch was working correctly, before the storm had finally broken. 

Sitting around in a tent shivering doesn’t seem too strenuous, but you were still exhausted. You couldn’t wait to start heading back to your comfortable little set up. 

Looking out at the frozen land, you could see that the cliffs ran a good way into the distance. Across the flat ice, you saw a break in the cliffs that you recognized. Directly east from that break was your home camp. And between you and the camp was the towering jagged ice mountain you’d admired your first day in the arctic. You must have gone around it in your blind panic to find the tracks. But at least you knew how to get back! Step one, down. Those stodgy old professors who said you wouldn’t make it out here on your own could suck it. You were absolutely killing it right now. 

You turned back towards your humble little temp camp and had to do a double take as you saw a dark figure standing on top of the cliffs above your camp. You choked on a scream as you saw the figure jump from one ledge of the cliffs down to another. That was at least a 15 foot drop! Your breathing sped up as the figure smoothly hopped down two more cliffs with no problems, bringing them just one 30 foot drop away from you and your tent. 

You could see them more clearly now. It was definitely a person, they looked small and wore a cloak and hood so it was impossible to make out their features except for two dark eyes peeking over the edge of a crimson scarf. Despite their acrobatics, they didn’t look particularly threatening. Still, a weapon could go a long way and there was nobody to call for help out here. You made the decision to keep your cool here in the hopes it would at least give you a better idea of the person’s intentions. 

“Hi there! That’s some fancy jumping.”

The figure kept their gaze locked on you in silence for a long moment before they suddenly jumped the remaining 30 feet, tucking into a roll before popping up onto their feet again in a practiced fluid motion. 

You took several steps back at that, keeping a good distance between you and the stranger should they try to attack. Your body was tense, but you purposely kept your voice light as you exclaimed, “Wow! Very impressive!”

The both of you stood in silence, locked in an uneasy staring contest. You took the opportunity to get a better look at the newcomer. Their green cloak looked thick and warm, fur lining the hood and bottom which brushed at the stranger’s knees. Golden tassels attached to the cloak hung down from under a red scarf with golden accents. Long leather boots that also looked fur lined covered what wasn’t hidden by the cloak. Their face was partially covered by the scarf and hood, but you could clearly see those sparkling dark eyes, unflinching in their intensity. 

“Didn’t think I’d meet a LARPer all the way up here in the arctic circle.”

“What?” The stranger’s voice was deep and gruff, but with a pleasant tenor that caressed your ears over the ambient sounds of the wind rushing over the snow drifts. It sent a pleasant tingle up your spine. 

What a strangely musical voice. 

“Your clothes? You look like an extra out of Lord of the Rings. Or, considering where we are, maybe one of Santa’s little helpers,” you chuckled. 

The stranger lifted their arms revealing a leather gloved hand from underneath their cloak and tugged self consciously at their hood. You caught a glimpse of a golden inscription stitched down the side of the green cloak, but you didn’t recognize any of the characters. 

You introduced yourself and looked expectantly at the stiff figure standing between you and your camp. 

“I’m Bernard. Nice to meet you and all, but you need to leave.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that, Bernard?” you said slightly insulted by his brusque tone. 

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“I am, actually. I’m with the Hale Company. I’ve been assigned to track a missing polar bear and her new cub for the research division.”

“Your presence will upset the polar bears, you should leave before they eat you.”

Okay, this guy was starting to piss you off. 

“Listen, buddy—“

“Bernard.”

“—Saint Bernard, more like. If you’re so worried about the bears, then fine,” you growled, marching past him to reach your supplies. After some rustling around in your backpack, you pulled out a folder of laminated pages and handed him the top piece with a smug look. “See? I’m official. The Hale Company has been tracking these bears for over 20 years, so I’m pretty sure what I’m doing is perfectly fine.” 

Bernard scanned the document before him, an annoyed edge crinkling the space between his brows. In a barely audible grumble he said, “Twenty years? That’s nothing. We’ve been keeping track for over 200.” 

“Wait, what? Are you with a research team too?”

He started at your words, his eyes widening briefly before returning to a neutral glare. “The Hale Company. Yeah, I’m familiar with it.” His words were rushed. “Fine, but you aren’t supposed to be this far out.” 

“We follow the bears, Saint Bernard. Our bear, XJ-17, has taken her cub to the mountains just northwest of here, we think.”

“You must mean Catherine, she’s the only one with a cub right now. She’s a sweet bear.”

“If that’s what your team is calling her, then sure.” 

A sweet polar bear? You doubted that. 

He ducked his head, seeming conflicted for a moment, before straightening up with squared shoulders. “You’re gonna freeze out here, y’know. Your little campsite here is pathetic.” 

You bristled at his tone. “Excuse me? I’ve trained for years for this assignment. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And this isn’t my main camp, it’s a temp. I got caught out in the storm. I’ll be returning to my home camp just as soon as I can.”

You turned and pointed at the distant break in the ice ridge. “See that opening? If I head that way, my camp is a straight shot east from there.”

Once again, a worried look shadowed his eyes. 

“You can’t go that way.”

“I have to! I’m not gonna climb the mountain, that’s crazy. I’ll just ride around it. In fact, I should probably get going soon. The storm may have broken for now, but who knows when another will hit.” 

“No!” He eyed your snowmobile and the dying embers of your fire, his brows pulled tight. “Uh, I mean, shouldn’t you rest a bit first? You seem tired.”

You had planned to rest some before returning actually, but you were eager to escape the rude pushy man who had appeared from seemingly nowhere. 

“Where did you come from anyways? How did you get up on those cliffs?” 

“Got anything to eat?” 

You were briefly thrown by his sudden inquiry. “Um, yeah, I have some rations. Why? You want something?” You felt a sinking feeling of guilt as you put the pieces together. This guy was slim and short, that much was obvious even with the thick cloak. And his voice sounded pretty young. He probably had gotten turned around in the storm himself and was far from whatever research camp he came from. He couldn’t be younger than 18, there’s no way any team would bring a kid up here with them, even for practical education. But maybe he was an advanced uni student? There were certainly other research teams who had less than ethical requirements. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, you supposed. So odds were that he was pretty young. He was putting on a brave face, but the stress he was under was apparent. Poor guy was probably hungry and cold and scared. 

Your remaining anger melted away in an instant and you suddenly felt responsible for this young stranger. “Hey, listen. I’m sorry, okay? How about we get you something to eat and then we can find out where you came from.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Food, I mean. Thanks.”

“Of course! Have a seat. I’m out of firewood, I’m afraid, so we’ll need to eat quick and be on our way.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem. I have wood.”

“Wha—you do? Where?”

He shuffled a bit under his cloak and revealed a brown leather bag slung low at his right hip. It wasn’t very big and you started to protest. You’d need wood bigger than whatever he had in there. But your words died on your lips as he pulled several good sized cut logs from inside the bag. You blinked, and his cloak was back in place, covering the bag once again.

…You must have misjudged how big that bag was. You couldn’t believe he’d been hauling around all that wood. His shoulders were probably killing him right now. 

The two of you settled down around your new fire pit, the fire now cackling steadily as if laughing at your disgruntled appreciation. Of course he’s an expert at making cozy fires. This kid was unnaturally good at everything, it seemed. Typical young genius. You had to work your ass off the past 8 years in university to get here, and you still had some trouble making a fire by hand. But he got one going in less than a minute. 

You watched as he poked the base of the flames, the flickering light reflected in his dark eyes. His eyes were quite distinct, now that you could look without him pinning you in his intimidating glare. Big and brown, deep set but with a sharp edge that kept you on your toes and made you feel uncomfortably seen. His lashes were thick and stark against the tops of his cheeks as he concentrated on his task. As you watched, a small snowflake stuck itself to the edge of his lashes. 

“So do you know where ‘Catherine’s’ trail picks up? You seem to know an awful lot about polar bears,” you blurted out to distract yourself from that little snowflake and the added sparkle it gave his eyes. 

“As a matter of fact, I do. Not that it’s any business of yours. She’s got a cub to care for now, she doesn’t need some amateur researcher barging in on her privacy.”

You made note that he, once again, talks about the bear like she’s a sentient person. And talks about you like you’re five years old. So maybe he wasn’t a teenager then. But he can’t be much older than, what, mid twenties at the oldest? Definitely not older. He’s short, and the few features you can see while he’s bundled up look incredibly youthful, but the way he carries himself is more deliberate, not at all marked with the usual teen awkwardness. 

He was setting up some sort of bracket. Or maybe a rack? His hands were steady as he used a metal tool to dig a narrow hole through the ice and placed polished wooden sticks in them. That bag of his had all sorts of things stored, apparently. He fastened the poles with a complicated looking tie and knot and moved to adjust the whole thing so it was above the fire. 

“That’s why I need to find her! Her cub needs to be registered with our research division. We don’t know how old it is or if it’s healthy. We haven’t even been able to confirm if it’s a male or female.”

“She’s a girl. Her name is Crystal.”

“Okay…Your team sure has some weird naming conventions. But look, I can’t just—”

You abruptly cut yourself off when you noticed Bernard was removing layers and hanging them over the rack he’d built over the fire. He’d removed his heavy cloak and hood and placed it at the right end of the rack, carefully arranging it so that it wasn’t drooping too far into the flames. Next he unwound his scarf and hung it beside the cloak. For the first time, you were able to get a good look at the tenacious man who had harassed you doggedly the past 2 hours. 

Underneath his hood he wore a green beret, decorated with a small medal and ribbon that seemed like real gold, at least it looked that way in the fire light. He pulled it lower on his head and fiddled with its arrangement for a minute, trying to get it to cover his ears. Which you supposed made sense. If he didn’t have any muffs on him then it would be a bit cold to have exposed ears, even by the fireside. His hair, a shaggy cut of bouncy dark curls, was constantly in motion as he expertly pulled at the fingers of his leather gloves, his intention obviously to place those on the rack next. His figure was clearer now, and your confusion grew as you took in his slim body shape. He wore a tunic with intricately decorated stripes of gold and silver threaded down his torso and cut off partway down by an ostentatious leather belt. Around his neck hung a wide gold necklace with what appeared to be bells dangling down from it. The whole thing looked almost like a costume but the obvious care put into the craftsmanship of it spoke to it being a genuine outfit. What an odd ensemble for an arctic trek. Despite his strange attire, he was proportional like a man, no gangly limbs here.

But his face was so youthful. Or was it? 

His jaw was cut and square, his nose long and proud, but something about his face as a whole didn’t look quite right. His cheeks were so smooth, like he’d never needed to shave a day in his life. They were rosy and plump and you swore as the fire flickered across his face, you saw stars light up on the tops of his cheeks. Strange, but not off putting. There was something unusual about how all of his features came together though. Something otherworldly and ethereal. You brushed it off and decided he was just handsome in a unique way, which he definitely was. The warm fire and beautiful snow must just be tricking your imagination into making things seem more mystical than they actually were. 

You took all this in as he placed his gloves on the rack and pushed them over to make more room. In a brief panic, you wondered what else he could possibly be planning to remove next when those sharp eyes flickered up to yours, the silence stretching a touch too long. You realized then that he was leaving room for your clothes to also hang and scrambled to remove your own coat as you continued your argument. 

“—I—I can’t just take your word for it. I don’t know who you are or what team you’re with, but if you won’t identify yourself then whatever you claim about XJ—sorry, Catherine—can’t be properly recorded.” 

“What does it even matter, I mean, why do you care so much if Crystal is recorded? It’s not necessary, she doesn't need to be in your records.”

“She does, actually. In case you haven’t noticed, the sea ice is melting at an alarming rate. We need to keep track of every polar bear we can, especially now that their natural habitat is disappearing. Any researcher worth their salt knows that, Saint Bernard.” You bit out the last sentence with some frustration. “What research team did you say you were with again? Russian?” 

“I didn’t.” His voice was ice. “And we’re quite aware of the climate change issue, thanks. We’re working on it.”

“You’re working on it? Okay, great, nothing to worry about then since Saint Bernard and his 200 year old research team is working on the whole ‘climate change issue’. And when can we expect a solution, chief?” 

“Look, I don’t mean to minimize your work. I’m sure what you’re doing is very helpful—“

“It is, actually. These bears deserve life. Every life on this planet is precious, Bernard, even one’s out here in the remotest place on earth. I don’t know what your teams’ goal is here, but ours—mine—is to preserve habitats for the best life possible for wild animals. Polar bears are struggling and we need to help them. We can’t do that if we don’t know where they are.”

He seemed at a loss for words for a moment, staring you down with an unreadable expression. His cheeks twinkled as one side of his mouth quirked into the first smile you’d seen from him so far. Your stomach flipped at the sight of it, but your stern determined face remained steadfast. You believed in this with all your heart, and you weren't about to give up on your life’s mission just because some handsome stranger from a rival team wanted to scare you off. 

“Fine.”

You broke out of your impassioned thoughts at his even tone. 

“Huh?”

“I said ‘fine’. I get it. You want to record Crystal, then okay. The polar bears are traveling further and further outside their normal territory, I should have seen this coming, really. But the area they’re in now falls under our jurisdiction. The Morozko Company has precedent here, that’s our registered name by the way, since you keep asking, Morozko.”

He spoke with sure authority and you realized you must have seriously misjudged him to think he was a junior researcher. He definitely seemed like he was in some position of power. You’d been warned about the mysterious Morozko Company. No one knew what nation they were affiliated with or where they got their funding. They were a strictly by the book company and had been heading the field on arctic research for the better part of a century. Very prestigious and very exclusive. You suddenly felt a bit out of your depth here dealing with someone who was probably leagues ahead of you in knowledge and experience. 

“Oh, uh, sorry I didn’t know you were Morozko,” you muttered. You decided to take the opportunity to pry a bit about the legendary team that put fear into the hearts of any unethical arctic explorers. “So are you guys Russian based?”

“Sure. Now listen, I’ll let you track Catherine for as long as you need, but you have to keep to the areas I tell you, okay? The ecosystem here is more delicate than you know.”

Your breath escaped you in a sudden rush. “Oh, wow, thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me. And yes, of course, I’ll keep to the approved areas. I’m not a complete amateur—I’m very aware of how fragile things are up here. I’ll gladly follow your lead.”

“Great, I’m glad we understand each other.” 

The two of you chatted here and there as you retrieved and prepared a couple of field rations. Bernard’s face was conspicuously blank as you ate together and you wondered what sort of researcher that had the authority to allow you into another team’s territory wouldn’t be long used to eating the dry tasteless field rations that came standard on this sort of expedition. Morozko probably had special high-end rations or something. 

He certainly was an odd little fellow. But after breaking the ice earlier, so to speak, he actually made quite good company. He was quick witted and funny and certainly knew his stuff. He gave a quick run down of the trails for quite a few bears that had gone off your radar months back, including Catherine, drawing everything out on your map for you to reference later. He marked places where you could potentially set up cameras to keep track of the bears and also marked quite a few places off limits, saying the bears didn’t come close to those areas anyways and that his team was in the middle of conducting some very temperamental observation research there. You promised not to interfere, after all, you were here for the bears. Nothing more. 

He insisted the two of you get a few hours of sleep before heading out to your respective tents. You just yawned in reply, too tired to argue. 

The already light snow stopped falling altogether as you settled into sleeping bags around the fire. Your tent was too small for you both and you were still a bit wary of leaving your supplies out here with a stranger. Luckily you had an extra sleeping bag for him in your snowmobile and the temperature wasn’t too frigid for sleeping with no shelter. 

“So Bernard, got a last name?”

“It’s Evergreen. Bernard Evergreen.”

“You really take this LARPing thing seriously, don’t you? No, I mean for real.”

“It is for real. That’s actually my name.”

You blinked at him in mild surprise. 

“Wow, that’s cool then! Sounds kind of like an elf name.”

“Uh, yeah. So what about you?”

“Oh! Right.” You told him your name, hands fiddling a bit into your sleeping bag as you said it. 

“That’s a great name!” He nodded with a slight smirk. “I approve.”

You rolled your eyes a bit, a smile tugging at your lips at his light teasing. “Yeah, it’s alright, I guess. It’s just a name.”

He chuckled at your exaggerated expression. 

“Names are important. I’ll be sure to remember yours.”

Well that sounded ominous. 

“That sounds ominous, you aren’t secretly a fae are you?” you said with a comically dramatic squint of your eyes. “You are dressed kind of strange, y’know. Maybe you really are one of Santa’s elves come to keep me from discovering his workshop!” you laughed at Bernard’s deadpan expression. 

“Funny. Is that a dig at my height?”

“Well, now that you mention it—“

“Shut it, you.” 

You burst into laughter at his dry remark, and he very quickly joined in. His own laugh was as musical as his speaking voice—like ringing bells—and you felt like you could almost make out a melody in the lovely sounds that came from the man across the fire. It gave you a warm happy feeling that prolonged the fit of laughter both of you had descended into for several minutes, one of you cracking up again and pulling the other back into mirth a few more times before you settled into a comfortable silence. 

Your eyes started to droop as you snuggled deeper into your sleeping bag. It had been a very long day. A long week, in fact. You couldn’t wait to get back to your home camp and relax a bit. You could hear the hot water bottle in the bottom of your trunk calling your name. 

“Sleep well, Bernard.”

You couldn’t see him clearly anymore hunkered down as you were, but his quiet voice had a comforting tone to it as he answered back. 

“You too.” 

Bernard watched the human’s chest slow to a steady rhythm, waiting for them to fall into a deeper sleep. They were… tolerable. Good company, he had to admit. It was nice to speak to someone who wasn’t intimidated by his position. Curtis didn’t often treat him as an authority figure, but he didn’t treat him much like a friend either. More like an older brother he begrudgingly had to admit was in charge while mom and dad were away. And Judy was sweet and professional, she and Bernard had known each other for the better part of millennia. But they just didn’t have the same kind of humor and didn’t often talk about things outside of work. In a lot of ways he appreciated them both for the interaction he got with them. They were the only elves even close to his station of importance. They understood the pressure. But this human was sweet and smart and volleyed his comments right back at him with their own spin. They were interesting. He found himself regretting having to leave so soon. He wouldn’t have minded another couple hours of chatting. But humans need their rest, and the reindeer needed to be brought back to the village before the human started their trek back to camp. If they had left for the break in the cliffs right then, they could have gotten an eyeful of flying reindeer. This whole situation was too close a call for his comfort. 

He pulled himself from the sleeping bag he’d generously been provided and quickly dressed himself back into his warmer outside cloak and scarf. He grabbed a pen from a supply bag and wrote a quick note explaining his absence for when the human woke up and started tugging his gloves back onto his hands. He watched their peaceful face as he did, and found himself admiring the shine of starlight on their hair. It looked quite nice and pleasant to touch if he had felt so inclined. Which of course, he didn’t. That would be creepy. 

Their lips were pouted in sleep. ‘Cute.’ He thought to himself. 

They were a nice human, all things considered. Respectful and willing to play by the rules. He could work with that. 

[smokedstorybara]

I have so many bnha fanfic ideas, they’ve just been popping into my head every few days for weeks now

So I’m just gonna share them all on this one post instead of making a million new fandom posts out of nowhere (ok, it’s closer to, like, ten - but still!)

If any of y’all want me to actually write any of them, don’t hesitate to say so - or if you just want to ask questions and talk about the ideas I’d be totally down for that too

Also, if any of them inspire you to write or draw something, please send me a link when you’re done!

(under a readmore cause it’s long and also there’s spoilers)

Fae courts AU

Nedzu - Spring King

U.A. / The Spring Court - also known as the Court of Lost Children, all members of the Court were once human children or children of one of the other Courts and they view it as their duty to care for the lost, neglected, and abused children of the world (one of two child stealing Courts)

All Might - Summer King

All For One - Winter King

Objectively, the Summer and Winter Courts are not as different as they like to believe - a Summer fae is just as likely to trick or turn on you as a Winter fae, they just prefer to play at benevolence while Winter fae make no secret of their nature

Shie Hassaikai / The Autumn Court - used to be more like a lesser version of the Summer and Winter Courts, until Overhaul put the King to sleep and made his research into humanity the Court’s focus - they’re now the second child stealing Court

Eraserhead was once human but has made enough deals over the years - most notably with Nezu himself - that he’s practically fae now

Deku and Kachan are human children who were taken in by the Spring Court, though Deku only after catching the attention of All Might

Endeavor - High Fae in the Summer Court - wants to become Summer King but knows he’s not powerful enough to overthrow All Might, married a High Winter Fae in hopes that combining their powers would make one of their kids powerful enough

Dabi fakes his death and eventually becomes a High Fae in the Winter Court

Shouto seeks sanctuary in the Spring Court’s halls

(I don’t actually have a plot for it, but I’m enjoying figuring out the world and stuff)

Evil All Might AU

The underworld knows that young Yagi Toshinori is a con-artist, and a very good one

The kid’s quirkless, and from a bad neighborhood, so of course he gets involved in shady dealings to get by

But he never ever gets caught

See, he’s mastered the eager, innocent, “I know I’m quirkless, but it’s my dream to be a hero! To fight crime! To be someone people can look up to, put their faith in! To be a… a symbol!” act, he’s been running that con any time he’s found in the wrong place at the wrong time since he first started walking - no one with even a single good bone in their body ever questions it

He gets involved with AFO, who’s like “I could give you one of my lesser quirks in exchange for your loyalty, or you could do a long undercover mission for me and get one of the most powerful quirks in existence out of it”

His mission: pulling his signature con on Shimura Nana, being given One for All, becoming a hero, becoming the Number One Hero and Symbol of Peace and the singular pillar holding up hero society, maintaining that status for long enough that everyone grows a little complacent, finding a weak and manipulable child to pass One for All on to, setting them up to fail, and then retiring

(I’d either have this one be All Might-focused and end with the reveal, or have it be Izuku-focused and give it a happy ending where All Might totally chose the wrong kid, cause nothing about Izuku is weak)

Commission analyst Izuku au

Member of the commission overhears him muttering/catches a glance at his notebook while watching a hero fight, strikes up a conversation

The commission tracks him down, shows up at his home with a similar offer to the one they gave Hawks - but instead of a hero they want him to be an analyst for them

Like Hawks, they take away his name, only calling him something like Eagle Eye or something (I’d go with Hawkeye but Hawks already exists so it might be weird?)

(Basically this fic idea is just an excuse to have Izuku and Hawks as the ultimate team, and helping each other get out from under the commission’s thumb - maybe revolutionizing hero society along the way)

Canon rewrite w/ Monoma as main character, somehow

All I have for this one so far is just:

Monoma copies afo, uses copied afo to steal afo, AFO is now defeated

After getting better at controlling her quirk, Eri rewinds Kurogiri back into Shirakumo Oboro

But he’s the age he was when he died

So he joins the current class 2-A

As in Izuku’s class

Basically it’s just his old best friends having to teach him and him making friends with all Aizawa’s problem children

Time travel

(I have multiple cause I really like time travel)

Aizawa-centric time loop fic

Loop stretching from day before Oboro’s death to towards the end of the liberation war (diverging from canon in at least the first loop cause he fucking dies during the fight)

At first he thinks maybe he just, like, dreamt up those 14(?) years

But then things are happening the same way and so he starts changing things and he dies and wakes up the day before Oboro’s death again

He experiments a lot with the loops, figuring out that they’re definitely not time based - unless it’d loop back at the end of the liberation war even if he survives? Requires further testing

Details he changes throughout the loops (culminating in a loop in which he successfully changes all of them):

Oboro’s death

Shimura Tenko being taken in by All for One, All Might’s injury(?), Izuku accepting One for All, and more I haven’t fully decided on

Time travel fic where Pro Hero Deku accidentally time travels back to just before Aizawa’s first year as a student at ua and somehow gets hired as a teacher

Gonna be a two-parter

Part one: Izuku has to teach teen versions of his old high school teachers, channels their future selves a little

Part two: Aizawa, Yamada, and Kayama have to teach the teen version of their old favorite high school teacher, and end up channeling his future self - in different ways

(I’ve come across a couple different “Izuku gets accidentally sent back in time to when his teachers were students” fanfics and they keep making me think about how Aizawa & co would react to meeting him in canon timeline after meeting him in high school and then I took the natural step forward from there to “let’s parallel their nostalgia, make him their high school teacher so it can really hit hard”)

Izuku is related to rooftop trio aus

(I’ve come across a bunch of “Izuku is the biological son of at least one member of the rooftop trio” aus but only one acknowledges that in canon he’s only 15 years younger than them and that one has a very angsty explanation, so I wanted some that fit with canon and also aren’t too heavy - cause like, sure you could go with the complex extremely angsty trauma reason or you could go with the “these 13-16-year-olds(idk Inko’s canon age and as long as I never look it up I can pretend I’m not going against canon by making her only 2-ish years older than them) did what teenagers do and went to a party and made some relatively innocent mistakes and ended up with a pregnancy”)

Dadoro

Oboro and Inko have been neighbors and best friends their whole childhood, despite being a couple years separated in age

The fall before Oboro starts high school, Inko takes him along to a party with her high school friends

They get drunk and sleep together

Inko gets pregnant

They talk it through with each other and their families and agree to keep the baby (they’re both actually pretty excited to be parents) and raise it together platonically

Some months into first year (maybe second), Oboro tells his friends about his kid

Spends the rest of his life gushing about Izuku to all his friends (sorry for the word choice fjdhshshx)

Oboro dies and his friends make pact to help Inko take care of Izuku once they have steady income and stuff

But Inko’s family has moved and she’s married and they can’t find her

They keep searching, for roughly 14 years

And then Midoriya Izuku enrolls in UA’s hero course and his big green eyes and curly green hair match the pictures Oboro used to show them and his smile is identical to their old friend’s

And his mom’s name is Inko

But they’re not sure (His quirk doesn’t match Oboro’s nor his Inko’s after all)

Not until after the first term and the summer training disaster camp and Kamino, when All Might and Aizawa go house to house talking to parents about the dorms and All Might tries to insist on visiting the Midoriyas alone but Aizawa insists right back cause this is the closest he’s come to confirmation

and then he’s face to face with a woman he’s only ever seen in photographs

And then they talk about everything or something idk I haven’t got that far

Dadzawa and Dadmic (trans!aizawa)

A year and a half before he starts high school(I know I changed the timeline a whole year here but shush, how’s he supposed to get into U.A.’s hero course while pregnant?), Aizawa’s middle school and one or two others have a Joint Event, at which he meets a loud but cute blonde who keeps flirting with him

They hook up

He gets pregnant

His dad insists he get an abortion but he doesn’t want to and his mom supports his decision, they convince his dad to let him go through with the pregnancy on the condition that he gives the baby up for adoption immediately

He has twins, both boys (one with green eyes like the blonde’s(but darker) and the other with purple like Shouta’s mother’s)(that’s right, Shinsou is also their son in this, you’re welcome), and he gives them up for adoption to separate families

But with conditions

No one from his blood family is allowed to initiate contact with either boy without the kid’s knowing consent (he’s terrified of his father changing his mind, tracking them down, and hurting them)

With the one exception being that he’s allowed to send each one a birthday present and card every year

Which he does

Then he starts at UA and then gets into the hero course and there he is… the blonde… the father of Shouta’s children… who does not recognize him now that he’s started transitioning

This time Shouta’s the one who flirts - or tries to, the kid’s a little too oblivious

Of course they do eventually get together, and even end up married! (Haven’t decided if they get together during high school or after they start teaching there or what(probably the latter, for plot reasons))

The first time Midoriya Inko contacts Shouta is after Izuku is diagnosed quirkless - she knows the young man loves her son as much as she does and might be able to reassure him where she already failed

His next birthday, Izuku’s mystery card says he can be a hero even without a quirk; it makes Izuku’s year

Hitoshi’s parents also contact Shouta that year, the boy struggling to make and keep friends ever since his quirk came in; Shouta’s birthday card to him isn’t much different from Izuku’s, really

The Shinsous get in an accident and Hitoshi is placed in foster care and suddenly Shouta can’t send him his yearly gift and card anymore cause nobody will tell him where the boy is now because of the contact portion of the adoption contract

They also won’t tell Hitoshi that he was adopted and his birth father is out there looking for him, so Shouta’s pretty sure they’re trying to hide that he’s being mistreated wherever he is

Inko continues to contact Shouta now and then whenever she thinks Izuku will need extra encouragement come his birthday (she never tells Izuku about being adopted - even after he enters his teen years - cause after his diagnosis, everyone but her left him and she doesn’t want him to internalize the idea that his birth parents didn’t want him - Shouta’s not happy with the decision, but he understands)

Then one year he sends Izuku a Present Mic figurine and she writes him to share how excited the boy was and how Present Mic is one of his favorite heroes and he listens to his radio show all the time and Shouta simultaneously melts and has a minor breakdown at the realization that he hasn’t told his husband that they have sons, he can’t tell Hizashi that their son listens to his radio show regularly when Hizashi doesn’t know Izuku even exists

So of course, being the rational man he is, he finally tells Hizashi about Izuku and Hitoshi

Hizashi freaks, of course (in a good way(mostly))

And then, one of the worst days of Shouta’s life

He’s on patrol and sees a figure on a rooftop and rushes to get there - just in case it’s a jumper - and it’s his son, his Izuku

They talk(it doesn’t breach the adoption contract, he didn’t know it was Izuku when he approached and the kid spoke first) and Izuku tells him “everything” about his encounter with All Might, Shouta tells him to tell his parents - they’re there to support him - and also that All Might’s full of shit and a quirkless hero is totally possible with the right training and enough willpower

Then after they leave the rooftop his kid gets in trouble again, rushing in to save a classmate from the same sludge villain that attacked him earlier that day

Of course Shouta swoops in and pulls the kids out of danger before All Might arrives to “save the day”

This time Shouta insists on walking Izuku home to make sure he actually gets there safely

But then All Might shows up again wanting to talk to his kid privately and he wants to tell the man to fuck off but he’s not legally allowed, really, so when Izuku says it’s fine he reluctantly leaves

Inko asks to meet him just days later

She tells him that Izuku told her everything about what happened that day - including what Shouta told him - and she tells him that she’s realized she needs to properly support her son in pursuing his dream

She understands that Shouta wouldn’t feel comfortable training him one-on-one with the kid not knowing who they are to each other, and she’s still not ready to tell him yet, so she asks for a list, for him to help her get in touch with people who can train Izuku or ways for Izuku to train on his own, ways for her to help

He puts her in contact with seven pro heroes (Midnight, Gunhead, the Wild Wild Pussycats, and - somehow - Sir Nighteye) and a vigilante team (the Naruhata Crawler and his team), all of whom he talks into helping - and has to tell about his connection to this boy they’ll be teaching

(Each have something important to teach him: Midnight - using words and body language to throw off opponents, Gunhead - martial arts, Wild Wild Pussycats - stamina, teamwork and use of your environment when out in nature, Sir Nighteye - analysis and planning, the Naruhata Vigilantes - use of gadgets and weapons, use of your environment when in the city, having the heart of a hero, and - most importantly - that quirkless people can be fucking strong and skilled and terrifying and certainly aren’t weak or useless (they were trained by a quirkless vigilante after all, they’re bound to have a different perspective on the idea of a quirkless hero than anyone else, a perspective Izuku could really benefit from))

Ten months later, Izuku passes UA’s entrance exam and is placed in Shouta’s class (he’s pretty sure Nezu did that on purpose)

When the school year starts, he and Hizashi discover that Izuku isn’t the only one in one of their classes - Hitoshi is in Hizashi’s homeroom

They are, of course, fucking extatic

They just need to, y’know, figure out how to tell him that they’re his parents and maybe possibly would love custody of him if he wants

(Again I haven’t gotten any further than that yet)

(Also, if you can’t tell, in this au Izuku turns down All Might’s offer of One for All, cause Eraserhead said he could be a hero without a quirk and was honestly a lot kinder and more responsible (like, making sure the kid got home safely instead of leaving him on a roof) and stuff than All Might and honestly might be his new favorite hero)

[madd-devil]

Slowly Falling in Love with Felix part 2

You didn't understand what was going on in your head. 

You were suddenly feeling the need to become closer to Felix, which was an absurd idea to you. He was only nice to you a few times and wasn't considering your job seriously. Was it weird that you started having feelings for the boy you once despised? Yes.

Again, you didn’t understand why: Felix was always so… so cold and so closed up. Why would one night with him change your whole point of view of him?

Because you saw how he truly was.

It was true, Felix never acted like this before and you started to realise his behaviour around you was slowly changing. He was more… understanding, kinder in a way and talked to you more as well as helping you out often during your chores. He called it “keeping an eye on you so you don’t get captured again” but deep down, you just knew it was an excuse so he could stay with you longer. You wondered if the other boys noticed something different about the blond-haired boy, but they didn’t really care as long as they had food and games to play.

But Felix still remained his angry and aggressive self. One wrong step and he could blow up. Watching him battle the other lost boys over little mistakes made you realise that. He wasn’t that different from Pan: they both loved control and when things went in their ways. No wonder they were close friends.

It was just a normal day in Neverland, you were busy with taking care of foolish injured boys who thought it might have been a good idea to fight the beasts that roamed the island with little weapons. You rolled your eyes at one moaning: he only had some bruises on his body. They always exaggerated when they were hurt, and requested you stay around them. You understood that you were in a way their “mother” but it was starting to be too much to handle for you.

You exited the tent, breathing out heavily and whipped the sweat off your forehead. Not only you had to take care of a bunch of boys, but it was also one of the hottest days in Neverland.  You never understood that Pan couldn’t control the weather, it was his island and he didn’t have a hand of that… Or as you thought, he didn’t know how to change it.

“Is everything okay?”

You turned your head and saw Felix standing near you, his club hanging on his shoulder. You frowned at him when you saw he was wearing his normal clothes. All the boys and you included decided to dress lightly in order to not be bothered by the hot weather but Felix…

“You should undress.” You bluntly said.

“I am sorry?” He asked, an eyebrow raising.

“I meant… It is too hot for you to wear those clothes, go change.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Fine, do whatever you want.”

You let yourself sit on the ground, ignoring the boys chattering from the inside of the tent. They were bickering again. It was giving you a headache. Being the mother figure of the rowdy and rough lost boys was a difficult job, and you wondered how you survived until now. Sometimes they were even fighting for your attention. It was tiresome. Felix seemed to sense your distress, he looked at you then at the tent with a frown.

“Do you want me to tell them to shut up?”

“No thanks. I am okay.”

“You don’t look like you are. You look tired.”

“All I want is a day off…” You whispered, standing up slowly.

The second in command took your hand abruptly and you didn’t have the strength nor the will to fight him. You both left in the jungle and you groaned at that. It was the worst place to be when it was hot like that.

“Where are you taking me?” You questioned the boy.

“Somewhere quiet, where you can rest.” He replied softly.

“Since when have you decided to take care of me?”

He didn’t reply and you decided to not ask more questions. After all, it didn’t sound that bad. Felix was always silent, rarely speaking. He won’t bother you that much and besides, you really needed to rest for a while. 

Finally you reached your destination and you gasped at how beautiful the view was. The blond haired boy had brought you on a small mountain, above the jungle and the sea. Thankfully, there was a large tree giving some shade for both of you and you wiped sweat off your forehead as you laid down on the fresh ground. 

“It is kind of… my secret place.” Felix admitted, sitting down next to you.

“So this is where you run off when we are partying?” You asked with a smirk, already knowing the answer. 

“Most of the time, yes.”

“It is such a nice place. I could spend all my day here, without worrying about anyone…” You sighed, contemplating the sky. “Does Pan know about this?”

“Pan doesn’t have to know everything…” The blond haired boy huffed. 

“Isn’t that right…” You said, closing your eyes, trying to rest.

When you opened your eyes, it was dark already. You stood up quickly and searched for Felix. He was nearby, he seemed to be focused on playing with his dagger. You strolled toward him, a little irritated that the second in command let you rest for so long. He boredly looked up to you.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” You asked, sounding angrier than you wanted it to be. It wasn’t his fault after all.

“Calm down woman.” He growled. “I thought you might use a little sleep, that’s all. You seemed really exhausted.” 

You didn’t know how to react to this. In the past years you had lived on the island, Felix never did those kinds of things with you. This was really weird. You didn’t think the time he spent with you while being trapped changed him that much, so you thought it might be one of his awful pranks. 

“I have to go back to camp. You coming?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

The boy didn’t reply and you figured you might have been too mean with him. You rolled your eyes as you returned to camp. Boys were such crybabies. You could say one wrong thing and they would not speak to you for a solid week. The sentinels at the entrance of the camp greeted you with warm smiles but regained their compostures when Pan appeared out of nowhere, clearly furious.

“Where were you?” He asked rudely.

“I was resting.” You answered simply because it was the truth. 

“Oh so now you need rest?” He snarled, taking your arm harshly. “The boys needed you.” 

“They were okay, look.” You gestured to them dancing around the fire or playing games. 

“How was your rest with Felix then?” He spit his name like it was venom. “Had fun?” 

You successfully broke free from Pan’s harsh hold. You took a glimpse of your arm and noticed it would bruise. You glared at Pan. 

“What the heck?! Why does it matter now what I am doing with Felix?” 

“I don’t want babies walking around the camp.” He pushed you roughly out of his way. “Is that understood?”

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

When the boys went to their tents to sleep, you were left with more chores to do. Of course they didn’t bother to do anything, you were always behind them, picking up their clothes or cleaning them. You sighed, annoyed, and thought of what Pan told you earlier. Glancing at his tree house where he was probably sleeping, you couldn’t help but think about it. What you were doing with Felix was nothing of his businesses. Hell, you didn’t even believe that Felix liked you. You stopped for a moment… Did Felix like you? 

You turned your head when you suddenly heard someone walking behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw it was Felix, he seemed to be hiding something behind his back. You rolled your eyes and went back to your chores. He stopped besides you but you didn’t bother to look at him. You were too busy with washing the clothes anyway.

“Erm… (Y/N)?” He asked, stuttering over some bits. 

“Yes Felix?” 

“I....” He stuttered, which was odd for him.

“(Y/N)!!” A young voice cried.

You didn’t have the time to investigate that someone had crashed into you. You winced, and looked down, seeing it was Charlie. He was very young, but very quick and talkative. A pretty strange kid who was scared of anything and believed what he was told. It could be cute, but tiresome to take care of him. You sighed, asking him what he was doing out at that hour.

“It’s Sam!” The boy sobbed. “He said the Shadow would get me and kill me, if I didn’t give him my bed!” 

You groaned, exhausted to settle such silly matters between the boys. But, as Pan would say to you, you were their mother figure and had to attend their needs. You took a glimpse at Felix who wasn’t watching.

“Sorry, but what you have to tell me has to wait.”

“It’s ok…” He replied. “It was nothing anyway…” He muttered as he left.

You frowned when you heard that but was reminded of your duty by Charlie sobbing harder. You stepped toward the tent and tried to settle the matter as fast as possible between the two boys. When you came back, you realised Felix was gone. You sighed and decided it was time for you to go to your tent. 

When you entered, you removed your heavy coat that you threw on a chair then let yourself fall on the bed. But then you noticed them. You took the soft and beautiful flowers delicately, and immediately recognized them as lavenders. There was a field full of them nearby, and they had been nicely cut, you noticed. Someone put a lot of effort in this. Oddly, it put a smile on your face and you decided to go to sleep, not even wanting to know who gave you flowers. 

The next morning, you decided to not tell anyone about the flowers, and especially not Pan. He was well known for his excessive jealousy and for his hatred toward adults and their “petty feelings” as he called it. Walking out, you immediately noticed Felix glancing at you from his usual spot, completely ignoring Pan talking to him, which was odd. You brushed it out, stepping toward the little tent that the boys used to keep their weapons. You knew that meat was low around, so you decided to go hunting. 

The boys only liked it for fun and trophies and always messed up, except some of them. They would say Felix is the best, but you thought otherwise: Aidan was, in your eyes, the best hunter. He wasn’t as tall as the second in command but he was the quickest of the boys, and knew perfectly how to track and hunt. After all, as he told you some times ago, his father was also a hunter and got killed by a bear. As you stepped out with a bow and some arrows, as well as some small axes, you strotted toward Aidan.

“Hey. I want to go hunting, wanna go with me?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Of course I am going!” The boy replied with a cheeky grin as he stood up. 

"No one is going anywhere." A stern voice is calling behind. 

You rolled your eyes and Aidan dropped on the ground, looking angry and frustrated but he held his tongue. You looked at Pan with a frown.

"We need food." You stated.

"The hunting party went early this morning. If you weren’t busy doing lovey dovey stuff, you would have noticed. Besides, I need you and Felix to check the islands for any new boys." 

You hated doing that and more with Felix. He was so strange those last days and behaved in a weird way around you. And Pan had told you to stay away from him some times ago. Why would he send you both on a patrol? 

"I can't believe you are making us take the longer path." You groaned as you hit a rock with your shoe. 

You thought that at least it would be quick but for some reasons, Felix wanted to take a very long road, full of dangers and on the path was the mermaid lagoon. You knew how dangerous it was to go there, having to beg the mermaids to release a lost drowning one from their claws once in a while. 

"We have to check everywhere. The Shadow is known for dropping them off at unexpected locations." The blond haired boy replied nonchalantly. “Stop complaining, it is less annoying than hunting.” 

“Hunting is fun, especially with Aidan.”

“Stop talking about him and focus on your task.” He said brutally. 

You rolled your eyes again, and walked at his pace. Searching for new lost ones was a very boring task, all the boys hate doing it. Only Felix seemed to appreciate it, maybe because he could be away from camp for a little bit? He was not a social one. What was more surprising is Pan sending you off with him. You couldn’t realise he had done that. 

Some hours passed, and nighttime seemed to engulf the island one more time. With only the moon and the little lantern Felix had brought, you two started to head back to camp after an unsuccessful search. Hopefully it would be the last task Pan gives you today, you weren’t in the mood to cook or skin an animal. 

“Do you like Aidan?” 

The question caught you off guard and you turned to look at Felix. 

“What… Why are you asking me this?” 

“You seemed more eager to be with him rather than me.” 

“I was happy to go on a hunt with him. He is my friend.” You replied, confused why Felix sounded so angry about it. “Seriously, what’s up with you all? First Pan then you…” 

“Wait!” He sounded scared for a moment. “What did Pan tell you?” 

“He asked me to stay away from you so we don’t have babies around the camp.” You groaned, disgusted to even think about it. 

The second in command didn’t say anything, but had stopped walking and looked at you with that dumb expression he always had when he didn’t want to admit he didn’t understand something. The more you thought about it, the more Felix reminded you of a clueless puppy. It was… a little cute. 

“He thinks I want to sleep with you.” 

Still no reaction and that clueless look on his face. You rolled your eyes and pinched your nose in frustration. 

“He thinks we will have sex together.” 

“And you…” 

“Oh god, I don’t want to talk about this with you… It is too…. awkward.” 

He didn’t say anything else after that so you assumed the conversation was over. As you walked by the river where you would usually bathe, Felix approached you and asked you something. However, you were too in your daydreams that you didn’t catch what he said and… You didn’t know what happened. Now, you were wet and cold. The boy had accidentally pushed you in the water, and you were mad. 

“I am sorry…” He sounded so pitiful, it was annoying. “I didn’t mean it I swear! It was an accident...”

“What the fuck Felix!” You yelled at him. “Why do you always have to hurt me?!”

You were so petty about this, you wanted to make him pay for some reasons, a payback for all the shitty things he had done to you over your stay on the island. You grabbed one of his legs, and pulled with all your strength toward you, so he would fall into the water too. He fell with a silent scream, and when he broke through the surface, you raised your fist to punch him and you gladly did so. However, he was stronger than you, even in the river. 

“Enough!” A voice boomed from the shore. 

You both stopped immediately. You realised it was Pan, staring down at you two, crossing his arms like a disapproving father looking at his misbehaving children. You groaned again, and attempted to climb back to shore, which was a little difficult because you were pretty certain Felix had broken a few bones in your entire body. You were the first one out, and held your head high with pride as you passed Pan. 

“You should put a leash on him Pan, that would avoid some troubles.” You hissed, still angry, not caring about Felix’s state.

Author note: Yes I am alive lol lol

[prismatales]

Late Bloomer: Faltering (Part 1)

Word Count: 3.3K

Bingo slot: Free

Pairings: None

Tag/Warnings: Slight angst.

Synopsis: Sometimes, life throws some unexpected circumstances that can bring doubts.

Here's Part 2 of Late bloomer!

Unfortunately, as much as I would've loved to make this chapter longer in order to introduce Dabi at once, I've been struggling with some heavy writer's block and burnout for these past weeks, but when I said part 2 would be out this week it was a promise, hopefully you guys will enjoy it!

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Isn’t it strange that the most gentle of hearts belong to all the souls on fire?

-Michelle Schaper

“That will be all for today’s lessons. Make sure to enjoy your break, everyone!” Midnight exclaimed, a cheerful smile on her face while all her students were busy packing their stuff, eager to leave and prepare everything they needed for the school break. If luck was on your side, maybe you would be able to plan something out with your siblings once Shouto came back from the training camp. 

“Todoroki. Before you leave, principal Nezu would like to speak with you.”...Or maybe not.

“...Is this about what happened during the exam?” you couldn’t help asking the teacher, nervous about the idea of being in trouble for the little stunt that occurred during your exam. But that couldn’t be the reason the principal was calling, right?

“He just told me to send you to his office. But if this helps out, I think your father was there too.”

“…Of course he is.” You had to hold back the urge to groan in front of the teacher. Blood already warming up just by the mention of your father of all people being in the principal’s office, if this was another attempt to make you switch classes, you’d be having none of it. 

“Did you put confetti in Bakugo’s gauntlets again?” Ren and Hatsume approached you after class, both of them snickered when they remembered the look on the blond’s face as he chased you around the school like a wild beast. The attempt to muffle the laughter failed miserably by the reminder.

“Nope. But if my dear old man’s there, I know what this is about. Anyway, see you next Monday, guys!” They both waved cheerfully before walking away, their figures became smaller and smaller with each step taken until eventually they could no longer be recognized from afar. 

As soon as you began heading towards the principal’s office, a small knot began growing into the pit of your stomach from the nerves. Once you finally stood in front of the door, the first thing you did was knock twice, staying put before the principal’s voice called out through the other side. “Come in!” 

The door was slightly pushed, just enough to peek inside the office. Just as Midnight said, principal Nezu was sitting on his chair and your beloved father was standing nearby with arms crossed. Both of them turned to look in your direction before the principal welcomed you with his characteristic smile.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You ask out of formality, partially nervous about the attention. 

“Yes, please come take a seat!” He didn’t move from his spot, and neither did your father as they both watched you step inside the office and advance forwards before stopping in front of the principal’s desk. Quietly, you pulled a chair in order to sit down, effortlessly ignoring your father’s presence as subtly as possible.

“There’s something we’d like to discuss with you. It’s not about the exam if that’s what you’re worried about.” You couldn’t help placing a hand over your chest, exhaling in relief with eyes closed. Endeavor’s stare could almost dig a hole at the back of your skull from that reaction, but he’s ignored in favor of looking at the principal. “It’s about your quirk...It’s already been a few weeks after the sports festival, but it appears you’re still having some difficulties controlling it...don’t you?” 

For someone who had as much authority as him, the principal’s question didn’t hold a single speck of malice or mockery behind it, almost sounded like he’s talking to a small child. Which made the situation way more uncomfortable in your eyes, because not only was he mentioning a fact you’ve been trying to so hard to hide, but he was also mentioning all of this in front of the last person you’d want to find out.

Insecurity grew deep inside as you looked down, avoiding eye contact with both males for as long as possible, gripping the fabric of your skirt with a firm grip that dug your nails painfully harsh into the flesh of your thighs.

“The principal’s asking you a question.” Just hearing your father’s voice was enough to make your blood feel like it was boiling, if any of them were able to see under the bangs hiding your face from view they would’ve seen a pair of glowing eyes. Nobody was supposed to know about the lack of control you’ve been struggling with for the past weeks, but it seems that it was more obvious than you thought.

When you looked back at the principal with doubtful eyes, they were no longer filled with that golden light that had already vanished. Hesitating, you finally answered the question.

“Yes, sir…”

“And you didn’t tell anyone this, because?”

“Because, I thought it would be something temporary...and eventually, I would be able to control it on my own.” He observed you with unpredictable eyes, pondering for a moment.

“That’s understandable,” he gave a slight nod with eyes closed “but you have to consider that as a school, it’s our responsibility to help the students grow and this includes helping them learn to control their quirks. There’s also another factor to consider…” 

This time he looked at you straight in the eye. “Remember what happened during the sports festival?” How could you ever forget it? The day your quirk manifested will forever be branded into your memories. “As harsh as this may sound, we’re concerned that this difficulty may end up with something similar happening in the future. Please don’t take it personally.”

It’s understandable that the principal worried about the risk of somebody getting hurt. And yet that didn’t soothe the ache growing inside you. Distracted by these thoughts, you didn’t pay attention to the rest of the conversation between the principal and your father. 

“My suggestion would be for her to attend the training camp alongside the hero department, the training could be a perfect opportunity to learn to control her quirk.” The principal turned his attention back towards you “While it’s not our place to make this kind of decision on a student’s behalf, this is a special case. I hope you understand our reasons, Todoroki-san.”

Nodding silently, your lips were pressed into a thin line in resignation over the school’s decision. But when you thought about it through the adult’s eyes, they were right. It could be dangerous to lose control and potentially getting someone hurt because you decided to be stubborn and handle this on your own.

But who could blame you when that’s pretty much how you grew up? Becoming independent at such a young age in order to lessen the burden on your sibling’s lives. 

“Well then, it’s decided. Look at the bright side, at least your brother will be there as well!” Nezu made an attempt to light up the situation, and you appreciated it. Kind of ironic how someone that’s not even related to you is doing more than your own father. who somehow, had such a feeling of pride radiating from him that if it wasn’t for who was in the room as well, you would have smacked him right in the face with your belt.

After the final arrangements were done, you and your father walked out of the principal’s office, but unlike him, the look on your face was so very sour that it could make a lemon taste sweeter than honey.

You didn’t have the chance to say anything to the man walking in front of you, since he began talking first.

“Before you accuse me of talking the principal into this. They were the ones who called concerning this situation.” He wouldn’t even turn around and it made you feel even more bitter than before, realizing you were the only one to blame for this.

“I do not care if you had anything to do with it. It’s obvious this is just an excuse to try moving me into the hero department.” In an angry fit, you stopped and glared at his back “I said this before and I’ll say it again; Nothing you can do will change my mind, camp or not, I’m staying in the support class!”

Unfortunately for you, that small fit of rage was enough for the ends of your hair to light up, right at the same time he turned to give you a look. “Focus on getting control over that power and then you can say that again with your head held high.”

With fists clenched into a fist, you just marched away with a huff. As much as you’d love to give him a piece of your mind, it was time to prepare everything for the trip.

A few days later, you stood near everyone from class 1-A, getting on the bus that would take everyone to the training camp. At least Shouto’s classmates were kind enough not to make you feel like an outcast, and it really helped out that you already met them before. After they saw you talking with your brother about his new costume and making fun of the first one, much to his embarrassment.

“Can I ask you something?” Shouto asked quietly from beside you, trying to avoid catching the other’s attention.

“Mhm.” You looked up from the screen of your phone, where a meme was displayed, courtesy of Mina who had quickly added your phone number into the group chat.

“You were doing so well the first time we trained together...so what happened?” He noticed the way your hand clenched around the device harshly, with a little more strength the screen would’ve almost cracked.

Nervously, you turned away from him with a nervous look all over your features but still managed to smile softly at him despite everything going through your head at that moment.

“I’d rather not talk about it...please?” The small plead caught him off guard, but Shouto still respected your wish...

The bus finally stopped in the middle of nowhere, it gave everyone the chance to walk out and stretch their bodies after sitting inside such a cramped seat for hours. 

And then, a pair of women showed up to greet everyone. Watching their costumes made your eyes light up in joy once you recognized the pair standing in front of everyone. But unlike Midoriya, you could only fangirl silently at the sight of the wild wild pussycats, or at least at the sight of the two that were talking in front of the whole class.

“I thought Hawks was your favorite?” your brother had to cough into his fist to hide the laughter when he saw the look on his twin’s face, that quickly turned into embarrassment when some of his classmates heard their banter.

“S-Shut up!” You shoved him by the shoulder at the same time your whole face got warm all the way down to the neck, it quickly began getting warmer the moment most of the girls overheard Shouto’s comment and gave you a teasing look. Now it would be impossible to live that down. “This is why Natsuo’s my favorite brother!”

That was the last thing you could tell him before the ground began moving underneath everyone’s feet, courtesy of pixie bob’s quirk. Everyone quickly tried to get back inside the bus to no avail, for all of you had been thrown into the forest. The last thing you heard from Mandalay was how those unable to reach the camp before noon would not be allowed to have lunch. 

While everyone fell down, some people noticed you quickly pulling your shirt open, and you could have sworn at least one of them yelled out panicked until they noticed a black tank top under the uniform. And also a familiar belt from the sports festival.

Quickly, two metallic claws sprung out from the back of the artifact, digging their way deep into the wall so they could slow down the impact. 

You were probably going to get an earful from Aizawa, but wearing this belt and the trusty bracelet over your right hand became a habit too hard to avoid, these ‘babies’ -yes, Hatsume had become quite an influence- were like a part of you, something you spent so much blood, sweat and tears developing from scratch.

Once your feet reached the floor again, the claws retreated back inside the belt. “Is everyone alright?!” You called out as the others dug their way out from the layers of dirt, luckily nobody had gotten injured during the fall and even if they had, it was a good thing there was a healer among them.

A thunderous roar could be heard, making you look at the direction where it came from, just to see this horrendous creature towering over the smallest guy from the group, what was his name? ah yes...Mineta.

After Koda tried using his quirk to calm down the creature, you realized they were not living creatures, most likely controlled by one of the pro-heroes supervising the school trip.

As soon as Midoriya managed to rescue his classmate and get rid of the first creature, another three appeared right after. This race against time was going to be harder than everyone thought. So might as well hurry up and lend everyone a hand.

“(Y/n)! behind you!” Turning around, you came face to face with another beast. Quickly, your hair began glowing with energy, growing until it reached the lower back and your arms became surrounded with a reddish aura, that somehow was acting differently than before, it started flickering wildly rather than flowing into smooth waves.

The beast lunged forwards, instantly being hit by an attack that ignited into flames as soon as it came in contact with it. Burning its whole body in a matter of seconds.

The more you kept running, the more of these creatures appeared and were taken care of just as fast. You had to admit it, everyone in the hero course was incredible in their own way.

It was strange using your quirk this long after spending so much time trying to avoid it. But if it meant no longer worrying about losing control, then you’d go through as much training as you had to endure.

Finally, after a long struggle in the forest, everyone managed to come out in one piece. But after using your quirk for so long, the only thing that didn’t hurt was your eyelashes. Every muscle in your body cried out in agony, exhausted, and begging for some rest, the same thing could be said about your irritated eyes.

“Arriving at noon my ass…” Nobody said a thing when you dropped face down on the floor, muttering a bizarre combination between nonsense and profanities. Too tired to pay attention to everything happening around you, like the moment poor Midoriya got punched in the crotch by Mandalay’s nephew, Kouta.

“Shouto, if you drag me inside I’ll treat you to the cafe for a whole month…”

“...Sorry, but you’re on your own.” 

“...You traitor.”

The meals were exquisite, every dish could almost be on pair with your sister’s cooking. And just as you expected, right before leaving for the hot springs, Aizawa made sure to confiscate your belt and any equipment you had left.

“All of it, Todoroki.” 

“...” 

With a defeated grumble, you took off the earrings as well before following after the girls.

The hot water felt heavenly against your sore body the more you sank down in the spring. If it could be possible, you’d stay underwater forever if it wasn’t for this little thing called ‘oxygen’. Swiftly your body rose up to the neck, leaning back against the edge of the spring between Jirou and Hagakure with a relaxed smile adorning your whole face.

“Ahhh, this feels so nice˜” your hands brushed some stray, damp locks away from your soaked face. The girl’s chatter was a pleasant noise in the background as every thought slipped away into nothing but a white noise inside your head.

“(y/n)?” Uraraka’s voice snapped you out from the little daze you fell in, when you turned to look at her it wasn’t only the brunette looking at you, but all of the girl’s attention was focused on you.

“Yes? What is it?” The grogginess in your voice and face was too funny to ignore, judging by their fits of giggles.

“How did you come up with the idea to make your equipment to subtle? It’s amazing!” Mina was the first one to speak, there was a glint of excitement in her eyes just thinking about the gadgets you used during the sports festival. In fact, all of them seemed interested in the subject, leaving you amazed by their reactions.

A huge smile appeared on your face upon realizing how fascinated they seemed about the equipment.

“Well, I know that sometimes equipment can make a difference for heroes, but it can also get in the way if it’s something too bulky or difficult to handle.” You explained to the small audience, not even aware that in the middle of the explanation, your hands wouldn’t stop moving all over the place as you spoke with enthusiasm.

Or how small ambers of gold began escaping through the corners of your eyes the more ecstatic you became during the explanation.

“So I thought of creating something that could be both subtle and practical at the same time, like-” 

“Ummm, (y/n)? Your quirk is going off again?” Jirou’s voice had a hint of concern, that made the words die instantly at the back of your throat when you looked at the reflection in the water and in fact, the glow in your eyes just kept growing.

They kept watching in silence, worried as you curled into a small ball at the edge of the spring, taking deep breaths that aided with the focus, until they specks of golden light finally disappeared.

“I…I’m sorry.” You couldn’t muster enough courage to look at any of them. Feeling ashamed of yourself, like a burden for everyone because you were unable to do something as simple.

“Wait, we didn’t mean it like that!” Looking up, you were met with many pairs of worried gazes that reminded you of the day everyone at school found out there was more than one Todoroki at U.A. but at the same time, it was a complete contrast as well.

Because these people were genuinely worried about you.

“Please don’t think you’re being a burden to anyone here, (y/n)“ Momo approached your curled self in an attempt to be reassuring. As a matter of fact, everyone else was doing her best to help out. “Besides that’s why you’re here with us. And if there’s anything we can do to help, we will!” 

Everyone else nodded and you’d be lying if you’d say their actions didn’t make something warm stir deep inside. It was...nice to know that including your friends in class, there were more people out there trying to help out.

With a grateful smile, you looked at every single one of the girls sitting around the spring “Thank you, guys….”

Soon you were all engaged into some playful chatter, from stuff like school, trying to get better grades on a certain subject -which you and Momo eagerly offered to help with- to being curious about tomorrow’s training….and other things as well…

In the midst of all the chatter, you were able to hear some commotion from the boy’s side of the baths. It was pretty vague, but Iida’s screams of “Restrain yourself!” were easily a hint of the chaos about to unfold.

And then Kouta’s small figure appeared at the top of the wall that faced the guy’s side of the baths.

“Learn what it means to be a dignified human being before aiming to become a hero.” The little boy spoke with such indifference as he pushed Mineta away.

“Do you guys deal with that every day?” You had to ask, and when more than one girl nodded their response left you perplexed enough to sink back into the warm water.

“Some week this is gonna be.”

You had no idea just how hard the following days would really be...

@bnhabookclub @gallickingun @godtieruwu @hanniejji @mysticalite @samanthaa-leanne @savagetrickster @shoobirino @bnha-ra @hawks-senseis @sugacookiies @unbreakableeiji @wesparklebitch

[haphazardlyparked]

the war AU, part 2

the part where it’s not actually a war, and i clearly know nothing about politics but i sure do a lot of BSing. :))) 

---

Hikaj couldn't help but compare the double-edged sword he held with the woman who wielded it: High Lady Masara, a knight of the cultish order that half-ruled Amir, from what Hikaj had learned so far of the surprisingly secretive order. The sword itself was light and well-balanced, with unfamiliar runes etched down its length that had Hikaj’s best warmage tearing his hair out. It all reminded Hikaj of the first time he had met the high lady.

She had visited Kas years ago, with one of her king's councilors, and they had both been unfailingly polite. Duke Inarim, High Lady Masara, and their whole, modest entourage. Hikaj knew, because his spymaster had complained that the Amirran servants had answered all of his questions happily, or happily misunderstood them—and his veiled offers of bribes for real information. 

At the formal dinners they attended, the high lady said little, but was always polite, and Hikaj had heard her laugh often enough. It had been enough to make him wonder if she knew something incriminating about every person she crossed paths with. Admittedly, he had been a little high-strung those days. Torral was the kind to be happy doing a job competently, but Hikaj's other dear uncle had liked the regency a bit too well. Hikaj had walked a fine line, trying to appear non-threatening while still presenting himself as a future ruler full of potential that his vassal kings and dukes could put their weight behind. It had made him very suspicious about every interaction around him.

But then they had danced, and Hikaj had started to see that High Lady Masara didn't laugh at anyone in particular, but at all the little parts of his court he hardly saw anymore. From the tiny carved woodland creatures that flitted through the ballroom's ceiling to the tendency to change glasses for each new drink at dinner, she had taken delight in the novelty of his court--not laughed at its secrets. She had seemed to know very little about Kas, actually.  

Now, with the weight of Masara's strange sword in his hands, Hikaj was back to thinking that maybe it was the secrets. When he had recognized High Lady Masara in the knight he'd been told had charged his advance company alone, he felt a little bit like laughing himself. At himself. 

They'd gone riding during the Amirran visit, in a large party that scattered into small groups and wended their collective way through the manicured Forests of the Empress-Mother. The ever-changing groups of courtiers flitting here and there again centered around a string of nobles who preferred the most sedate of paces. High Lady Masara had been one of those riders, hesitant in her sidesaddle, good-naturedly laughing at her own inexperience with a shifting tide of the Kassan court. Hikaj decided she simple hadn't had many chances to ride before.

Now, he wondered what kind of rider the knight Masara was. How many more things in Amir were mysteries to him? 

***

Hikaj crossed his camp back to the bespelled tent, Masara's sword and scabbard in his hands and a nervous energy quickening his step. He should have let Qemaile go and poke the bear, he was the mage, after all - but Hikaj honestly wasn't sure if Lady Arlis would send poor Qemaile into a uselessly towering rage, or leave him crying and still unhelpful. Hikaj needed his mage, as temperamental as the man was, so he went to the tent himself.

It was guarded, but the flap was tied open for light, breaking the net of spellcloth. They had stopped burning the slightly caustic incense and started opening the tent after the high lady and her squire had each given an oath not to flee. Hikaj had made sure his healers looked after the high lady, too. While Lady Arlis had surrendered with barely a scratch on her, one of Masara's arm was broken and a spear had gone through - luckily enough, the healers told Hikaj - mostly skin and muscle where arm and shoulder met. It was declared to be healing as expected, and it had not seemed to trouble Masara too much on the (admittedly slow) ride back to Amir's capital city.

The ride had taken a week because of the hilly country, which turned large companies of men into slow, winding targets on the narrow roads, but Hikaj had taken the risk. He had also left a rear guard behind, to keep Amir's forces penned up in the blasted mountainous Foothills as a guarantee.

Now the spelled tent - and the bulk of the imperial soldiers - were all camped outside Amirasa's outer walls. At the Sascrin knights' request, the tent's opening faced the city that rose up on a high hill, topped by a sprawling palace that overlooked the cliffs and the sea on one side, and Amirasa on the other.

Hikaj blocked their view of it when he ducked into the tent.

He could tell they'd been looking because Lady Arlis had the intent, stormy look on, the one that seeing his blue-cloaked guards on the walls always provoked. She was leaning forward in her chair, her elbows on her knees, and she reminded Hikaj of a wildcat about to pounce. Masara, of course, was calmly collected by her side. But was she also angry behind that calm? Or was she hiding something else? 

Or maybe he was reading too much into what was just polite civility. It didn't help that Masara's attention--but not her expression--shifted as soon as she saw what Hikaj was carrying. Arlis didn't see--she straightened and jerked her head to the side so that Hikaj couldn't see her face when she noticed him. Struggling to control her anger, probably.

She was able to mirror Masara's calm for abut half a second, and then her eyes narrowed suspiciously on Masara's sword.

"Oh, let me guess," the squire immediately snapped. “You have questions.”

Hikaj tried a smile. "There must be something you can speak about," he said, already conciliatory in his preamble. Part of him regretted already starting on the back foot, but the rest of him was focused on High Lady Masara's sudden smile.

She didn't say anything.

"Why should we spill secrets to the emperor we're at war with?" the young and very vocal Lady Arlis demanded.

For a fourteen year old, she was shockingly forceful. But then, she was an ambush-laying, sword-wielding fourteen year old. It didn't help that every time she opened her mouth, the high lady—who was an ambush-laying and sword-wielding noblewoman herself—would nod in agreement, and then cycle through a wide variety of polite looks.

Hikaj opted for what he hoped was the safest answer: technicalities.

"In the purest sense of common accord, we are not at war, because neither your king nor I have declared it,” he corrected Lady Arlis. “I suppose we could call it… armed conflict?”

Arlis gasped with deep offense. “Or more accurately, invasion or attempted conquest!”

Masara turned her steady gaze on Hikaj, and then stoked young Arlis's fire.

 “You are correct Imperial General, technically," she said, turning her gracious concession into an elongated but. "Yet I fear my king has been a little busy fleeing your unprovoked… armed conflict... to make war declarations just yet.”

Lady Arlis leapt on that. "Yes! We'll see what the king says once - once he has a chance!" she told Hikaj, furious in her enthusiasm.

Hikaj was a general who knew when to retreat. He didn't quite try to hide Masara's sword and scabbard--there was nowhere to put it--but he lowered his hands and made it clear he wasn’t going to ask any questions about it. Of course Masara would want her weapon back--knights everywhere felt the same about that, Hikaj suspected, no matter how peculiar otherwise they were to him--but Qemaile wanted to study it more, and frankly, Hikaj worried it might scare some of the men if he returned it to her.  

That problem for later.

Changing topics, Hikaj did his best not to get kicked out of the tent by the furious silences which had driven him from it before.

"Instead of declarations of war,” he said, in his best diplomatically soothing voice, “would you not prefer peace?"

Masara's neutral expression seemed to consider that, but Arlis frowned deeply.  

“We had peace before you came,” the squire eventually said.

Hikaj looked at Masara when he answered. “Did you?”

She met his gaze, but for once, she was the one who looked away first. “Whatever we had,” she mused, “it was certainly not bloodshed from Amirasa to the Foothills.”

Hikaj bit back the dozen different things he wanted to say. He had weighed the risks and made his agreements before the first Kassan soldier set foot in Amir, and even if he was starting to re-evaulate those decisions, now was not the time to throw any plan away. Revealing any inopportune might weaken his leverages in Amir, and no matter how unfortunate this campaign was turning out to be, he did need this kingdom as a bulwark against Lapur. 

So he winced and said, "No, it was not, you are correct. But I do believe smaller conflict is justified to avoid greater perils."

"For Kas, perhaps," Masara countered.

"Not just for Kas," Hikaj maintained, though he didn't mention Lapur specifically. He knew Masara would already be thinking of Amir’s other large, imperial neighbor; who west of the sea of sands didn’t? “Regardless of how it began - would you not like the chance to end it?"

That made Arlis scowl, though Masara smiled and dryly observed, “I am sure the terms would be so wonderfully generous."

Hikaj suppressed a shrug. "That is what negotiations would determine, I suppose."

Masara didn't answer, but her unchanging, humorless smile seemed to say, What treaties ever went well for the ones who were forced to the table by a greater military power? Even Arlis didn't say anything, though the naked outrage in her glare made it clear what she thought of this kind of coercion.

"How could we trust an agreement with you?" Masara asked finally. “We have no foundation for trust yet.” She paused, purposeful and considering, then added, before Hikaj could fumble for an answer, “Though we could work on that.”

Hikaj felt weakly grateful for the opening Masara left him. “What would you suggest?”  

Arlis bristled again, probably ready to demand that the Kassans leave Amir immediately, but High Lady Masara said, “Something small, to start,” as though she were thinking aloud. “An easy trade. You could answer a question for me, perhaps, and I could answer one for you… or I could give you a demonstration with my sword.”

She didn’t look at the scabbard while she suggested the little deal. Hikaj met her dark, careful eyes, and told himself her offer was probably not a threat, and he definitely did not feel a sudden, thrilling swoop in his chest.

“All right,” he said.

Arlis scoffed and then muttered, just loud enough for Hikaj to hear, “I’ll demonstrate the Lady’s Peace for them.” 

That was definitely a threat. 

• • •

After whatever Lady Arlis had claimed to have done and Hikaj’s healers’ work, Masara's wounds all looked as though she'd had months to heal, not a little over a week. Her right arm was still in a sling though, so she held her sword in her left hand. She still wore the knee-length blue tunic that the healers had found for her too, as well as her gray knight’s cloak. But whereas her presence usually filled the small spellcloth tent, out in the open, she suddenly looked small and alone. Just one injured woman with a sword, facing off against a dozen archers.

That was probably what Hikaj's men had thought, right before Masara had charged them. He tried not to fall into the same trap when the high lady turned to him, smiled, and raised the tip of her sword with the ease of long familiarity.

“Shall I begin?” she asked.

“No!” Qemaile insisted from where he stood at Hikaj's side. He hopped from one foot to the other in his excitement, and from somewhere in his robes little bells started jingling. “You must explain what spell you plan to use! Incantation! Materials! Something?"

Masara laughed. Not at Qemaile, per se, but Qemaile retorted just the same, guestring out at Masara and her sword. "I want to know what I'm looking for!”

"You will see it," Masara assured him. It didn't really assuage Qemaile’s defensiveness, but she didn’t give him time to argue more. "Please, Imperial General, when you are ready, count to ten and then give the order to shoot."

She turned back to face the archers, who stood some hundred meters off.

Hikaj raised his hand and began to count. Before he'd even finished saying the first number, Masara's sword leapt into action, the tip of a blade tracing a large shape in the air before her. By the time Hikaj got to six, Masara's blade began to glow, first a small point of bright light, one of the etched runes turning to silver light that began to grow, sliding along the blade like liquid before it reflected into a bright arc of light that flashed, and then settled into a faint shimmer in the air. Hikaj reached ten, and lowered his hand. Twelve bowstrings twanged.

Fear flashed hot through Hikaj as the arrows whistled through the air--this was mad--but then all twelve shots slammed against the abruptly solid silver light, metal tips lighting in an incandescent spark before the wooden shafts splintered. Half-melted arrowheads and wood fell to the ground, and High Lady Masara lowered the sword. 

"The arrow guard," Lady Arlis said into the silence, after the silver light faded away and Masara's sword was nothing but etched metal again. "It is one of the first things we learn."

“But I didn’t see the spell,” Qemaile wailed. 

Hikaj was still staring at Masara. She had shifted the sword to her broken arm, and was holding it awkwardly in the sling so she could use her left hand to wipe sweat off her forehead, or maybe to brush her dark curls out of her face. He imagined her thundering down a narrow path through the Foothills, wreathed in silver spouting from her sword and staring down his men, and he felt a shiver in his spine.

“Figure it out, Qemaile,” Hikaj said. “I want that spell.” 

“But my lord, it’s not a spell!” 

• • •

In the tent (after Qemaile has asked his hundredth question and Masara had managed her ninety-somethingth evasive reply) the high lady shifted in her chair to turn a flat, expressionless look on Hikaj. It was just the three of them again, and an empty chair, but Masara didn’t even glance at Lady Arlis. The squire, for once, seemed just as unsure of what Masara would say as Hikaj. 

“Imperial General,” the high lady said finally. “Who betrayed us?" She asked the question without preamble, firm and direct. Arlis closed her eyes and looked away. Was she surprised?

Hikaj himself was taken aback. Not was there a traitor, but who. How had Masara known? Had she known all along? If she’d known, that would change Hikaj’s understanding of what had gone wrong so far. 

“I cannot build a foundation of trust alone, Imperial General.” The quiet, matter-of-fact tone was belied by the intensity of Masara’s brown eyes. She had said they could start with a small trade, an exchange of trust, but Hikaj suddenly realized this question was important to her. Maybe she’d been waiting for a chance to ask this whole time. 

“No, of course not,” he agreed. He tried not to hesitate. Maybe the arrow guard had not been such a little demonstration, either. “It was the prince,” Hikaj said. “It was your cousin, Prince Panam.”

Masara closed her eyes, and then nodded once, shortly.

"I thought so," she said, and it was a quiet exhalation that seemed to take the strength out of her. She leaned back in her camp chair and bowed her head. 

The silence was too loud; not even Arlis raised her voice to accuse Hikaj of lying. When he looked to the squire, he was shocked to see she had tears in her eyes. 

“The High Priest, too?” she asked, her voice a thick whisper. Hikaj thought she was talking about the assassination that had drawn Kas into Amir, at Prince Panam’s invitation. Hikaj had had nothing to do with it, despite Arlis’s most heated accusations, but he had known the prince must have. 

Masara didn’t raise her head when she replied. “It would seem so. Our own armed conflict, after all.”  

“I’m sorry,” Hikaj found himself saying, feeling awkward and intrusive. “I’ll--I’ll leave you now. Have a good night.” 

Then he rose from the campaign chair, flinched as the unstable thing folded loudly in on itself, and fled the tent. 

[stahlop]

Making a Memory (3/?)

Once again, a big thanks to my betas @profdanglaisstuff and @thisonesatellite. This chapter was a bitch to write.

And thanks again to @gingerchangeling for her amazing artwork above!

Chapter 1 2

Ao3

The next two days felt like torture for both Hope and Alice. They had been told by the directors that they were lucky to be allowed to go into town and that they’d better behave themselves as they were representing the camp, to which Hope and Alice solemnly nodded. Henry had sent a text through Lori’s phone (another extra dollar to deliver the message) to meet at a coffee house in town at 11:00 to which Hope replied that she and Alice would be there (another dollar to text back).

 Hope had told Alice that Henry had confirmed they were sisters but nothing else, citing that this wasn’t something he could tell them over the phone. 

 “Maybe they both got amnesia and only remembered the last relationship they’d been in and that’s why they think our other parent is different?” Alice had suggested. Hope had thought that could be a possibility but then…

 “But what about the fire? Or is that where the amnesia came from?” 

 “Could be?” Alice said. “Maybe they both got amnesia from the fire and forgot the other and we just went with whichever one saved us.”

 “But that doesn’t explain Henry.” Hope said, which was also the fly in the ointment to every theory they came up with. Henry was the outlier. The only thing that didn’t make sense. As far as Hope knew, she and Henry both had the same father and Henry had never said anything different. Why would he lie to her for so many years about having a sister and potentially a different father?

 “I definitely think their memories have been altered or erased in some way.” Alice said. “My gut usually tells me if a person is lying, and Papa hasn’t lied to me once about thinking Milah was my Mama.” She frowned at the prospect that her gut could have been wrong about her Papa all these years.

 “Is it always right?” Hope asked. “I mean, you told me that it seemed to hate me on sight when we first got here, but it’s calmed down now, right?” Alice nodded. “Wait! Did you say it mainly tells you if someone is lying or not?” Hope asked, realizing what else Alice had said. Alice nodded. “My mom has that same thing. She can tell when someone is lying. I’ve always chalked it up to being able to read people well, but maybe it’s something you’ve inherited from her!” Hope got really excited about that prospect. Another piece of the puzzle being put together.

 “What was it like growing up with a brother?” Alice asked, changing the subject. Her whole world had been turned upside down and hearing about things she may have inherited from a mother she never knew existed still felt a little weird.

 “It…” Hope paused looking for the right words to describe it. “It was different. He’s 15 years older than me so we weren’t close. I mean, we were close, but not the close that two siblings would have if they were only a few years apart. I know he tried to help out mom with me as best he could. He lived at home during college when he could have lived at the dorms, and he lived at home until I was around 10 before mom kicked him out. He only lives a few blocks from us and he’s been real busy with the book writing lately. But he always makes time for me when I need to get away from mom for a little bit. In fact, he paid for me to go to camp this summer because I’ve wanted to go for forever.”

 There was a bit of silence after that. Neither one knowing what to talk about next. They’d exhausted their theories and both of them were a little leery about learning about the other one’s parent without finding out why they’d been separated and potentially lied to for their whole lives.

 Hope spent the next day reading through Henry’s novel, as if it might hold potential clues for her, even though it was a work of fiction. Alice spent them drawing pictures of various things, everything from characters in the book to things that had happened around camp. Hope was a little jealous at how good Alice was. 

 Finally, the day to go into town arrived. Alice and Hope had woken up early and were the first ones on the bus. They’d be getting into town around 10:00 so they’d have a little time to shop around before meeting Henry. They were both so antsy the entire trip there. As they got off the bus, Mrs. Hatfield remarked about how well they were getting along with a knowing look. If she only knew her initial assumption of them being sisters had been spot on, and that was the reason they were getting along, not because of the stupid Get Along Cabin.

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

 Henry had not been all together surprised when he had received the phone call from Hope. He had been expecting it after all, just not so early. He’d thought he’d have another 4 weeks, once camp had ended to figure out how to explain the situation they had all found themselves in. It wasn’t every day, after all, that one meets their long lost twin sister that they never even knew existed (although Disney would have people believing it, but they messed up most of their retellings of fairy tales, why would this be any different). But here he was, with only two days to figure out what he was going to tell his sisters, one of whom he hadn’t seen since she was two.

 He knew the situation was a mess.  It had been a mess since the twins were born. It wasn’t as if any of them had wanted this situation to happen, but it had and they’d been living with it for the past, almost twelve years. Well, Henry had, anyway, it wasn’t as if anyone else involved in this knew what the hell was going on besides him.

 The whole situation was bittersweet. He had checked up on Killian and Alice over the years, not that they knew that. He’d been discreet. Just happening to be in the same park as them even though it was nowhere near where he lived; jogging near Alice’s school as she grew up to be able to see her during recess. It had pained him to see her playing by herself in a trove of trees near the back of the playground away from everyone else. As she got older, she had the drawing pad, and he was happy that she had something she enjoyed doing. Henry had even gone to a few of her art shows and seen just how much like Killian she was in the drawing department.

 It was a lot harder to check up on Killian, as he worked at the docks and it wasn’t like Henry could just hang around the docks for no reason. He’d thought about getting a job there when he was old enough, but his mother would’ve thrown a fit. She would have given him a talking to about wasting the scholarship money he’d been given for his fancy Creative Writing Bachelors to go work, what she would have considered, a dead-end job at the docks. He had to make it part of his morning run, except that when Killian moved into management, he couldn’t get a look at him at all.

 Deciding to go into Creative Writing in college was a no-brainer. He knew he needed to get his story out, but he needed to do it in sections. Become one of those writers that had a book series instead of just one book. He wouldn’t have been able to get everything into one book as it was. The problem that he hadn’t anticipated was that no one wanted to publish it. He thought the alternative fairy tale genre would have still been a big seller, but it seemed that book publishers were more into dystopian societies again (a resurgence from when he had been a kid). It had taken him a lot longer to get Once Upon a Time out to the masses than he’d intended. The sequel would just barely be released before Hope and Alice’s fourteenth birthday and that was cutting it really close for what needed to happen.

 Henry had done the best he could in helping his mother raise Hope. He knew it was not the life she had imagined when she’d found herself pregnant. He still remembered with distinct clarity when she’d come rushing out of the bathroom waving around the pregnancy test. Explaining to Killian what the two lines meant, and then forcing Henry to go buy her a digital test just to make sure the cheap ones she’d bought over the internet weren’t faulty.  They’d been so excited to start their family together. And when they found out they were having twins, well Killian had practically spun Emma around in excitement (a little hard because they didn’t find out about the twins part until she was almost five months along and she was already huge. Alice had apparently been shy even in the womb as she was hiding behind Hope in the ultrasounds; their heartbeats always perfectly in sync with each other). And then...everything happened.

 Maybe it would be better if Henry tried to write what he wanted to say down. He’d always done better with an outline, a plan, an operation. Operation Gemini was on!

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

 The girls were already waiting at a table in the coffee shop when Henry arrived; three hot chocolates set at each place, all with whipped cream and cinnamon Henry noticed. As soon as Hope noticed him, she immediately stood up and ran to give him a fierce hug. 

 They stood there, hugging at the entrance, for what seemed a long while. Had it really only been two weeks since she’d gone off to camp? It felt almost like a lifetime. Even though Henry had moved out of the apartment, he still came by to see his mom and Hope every day. It was just the kind of family they had. Very close. 

 Henry had moved them off to the side so as to not block the entranceway, and he felt Hope shuddering in his arms. She was silently crying Henry realized as he stroked soothing circles on her back, something that always calmed her down as a little girl. He looked over to the table and noticed Alice sitting at the table waiting for her world to drastically change and all she looked like she was feeling awkward while she waited for them to finish their emotional reunion.

 “I don’t even know why I’m crying.” Hope wailed softly. “I just have so many questions and emotions from discovering that I have a sister, and it has finally hit me now that you’re here, Henry.” He was making this all real. And no matter the answer, no matter what he told her, Hope and Alice had to keep an open mind, because Henry knew the reality of this situation was going to change things forever.

 “It’s okay, Hope.” Henry whispered into her hair, something else he’d always done when she was younger. “I promise, everything is going to be okay.” He kissed the top of her head for reassurance. Hope seemed to snap out of it, and she broke away from Henry and dried her eyes on the back of her hands. Henry pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and gave it to her.

 “Always a gentleman.” Hope said as they walked over to the table. Alice, who had watched the whole exchange, looked at Henry with wide eyes. Henry wasn’t sure how either of them were going to handle what he was about to tell them, but Alice, despite the wide eyes, seemed overly calm about the whole situation. 

 “It’s nice to meet you, Henry.” Alice said, putting her hand out for him to shake it as he sat down at the table. Henry could tell she wasn’t quite sure what else to say. He could only imagine how she must feel, having grown up an only child and now she supposedly had a twin sister and an older brother.

 “We’ve met before.” Henry said sadly, taking a good look at her while he and Hope took their seats. It was like looking at a punk rock version of Hope and it was a little strange. “But I haven’t seen you since you were two and mom and Killian were still dressing you in matching outfits.” He laughed, remembering how their mother, of all people, liked dressing them the same and Killian absolutely hated it. They’re individuals, Swan, not dress up dolls! Everyone nervously took a sip of their hot chocolate.

 “Can we just cut to the chase.” Hope said. Henry chuckled at how much like their mother she was. Besides looking like her, just with a fuller face that he chalked up to still being a child, she had inherited her personality, and was always straight down to business. No pleasantries, no small talk, just get straight to the point.

 Operation Gemini hadn’t made it much past the notes phase when Henry tried to figure out how to explain things to them. Giving a speech was not the way to go. This wasn’t a book that he could plot out an outline and hope that everything went the way he wanted it to (at least not yet). And he knew these two girls were much too smart to not ask questions about everything he presented to them. He needed to know what they knew or had hypothesized for themselves before figuring out what and how to tell them about their pasts.

 Alice,” Henry said turning to her, “tell me what you’ve been told about your mother.” 

 “Uh,” Alice had not expected to be put on the spot, “her name was Milah.” Henry nodded in agreement, since he already knew that was who she thought was her mother. “She and Papa were together for about five years before they got married and had me. I’m named for my Papa’s mother. She died in an apartment fire when I was two which is also how Papa lost his hand. We…” Alice’s voice drifted off when Henry took out a notebook and started writing everything she told him down. He wrote at a very alarming rate, and it would look as if the words were magically appearing on the page, or at least, it would look like that to Alice, if she believed. 

 ‘H..how are you doing that?” Alice asked, fascinated. The pen he was using looked like an old fountain pen, the kind that required ink. Alice looked around but she saw no ink. He saw her look closer at the notebook which was an old, leather bound notebook with parchment inside. Henry held his breath. Could she see? Henry looked at Hope who was looking at Henry intently the same way Alice was, but he could tell that all Hope saw was a normal pen and notebook.

 Henry looked up at Alice with a quizzical look on his face. “How am I doing what, Alice? What exactly do you see?” From his tone, he hoped that Alice could see he truly wanted an honest answer. She looked hesitant for a moment, took another gulp of her hot chocolate, but then drew a deep breath before telling him exactly what she saw.

 “You have an old fashioned fountain pen, but it seems to not need any ink. And it’s putting the words on the parchment for you.” Alice gulped. Henry knew that what she had said would sound crazy to anyone else, but not to him. She looked over at Hope who was looking between Alice and the pen and notebook. She definitely was looking at Alice as if she just said the craziest thing ever. A wide smile crept over Henry’s face and tears sprang to his eyes. He wanted, more than ever, to just wrap Alice up in his arms like he had when she was a baby, and give her the biggest hug imaginable. He put the fountain pen and notebook aside.

 “Alice,” Henry said as he took both her hands into his, “I need to ask you something, and please answer honestly. No false modesty for my sake, please.” Alice nodded. “Now, I know Hope hasn’t read my book because she says it’s not her style,” Hope rolled her eyes at this statement, crossed her arms and mumbled “I've read some of it,” Henry gave a small laugh at that and focused back on Alice, “but have you read it?” Alice nodded, unsure of where Henry was going with this. “And tell me, my dear Alice, what did you think of it?” He continued.

 Henry watched Alice closely as she tried to figure out where to begin.  

 “It felt like I was reading about people I’d imagined my whole life. Like they’d been living in my head with no way out and then, bam! There they were on the page in front of me. And then I started drawing. Oh, I’d drawn mostly landscapes, places that were right in front of me, but I’d had these images in my head for so long of people, that about a year before your book came out, I’d started drawing them as well. And then there they were in your book. I have sketches of Snow White and Red from before your book even hit the shelves, and at first it scared me, because Papa has always said I might be psychic, just knowing little things here and there, but there it was for me to see. These people who I’d been imaging. I’d never known their story, and here it was laid out for me in the pages of your book.” She took her hands away from Henry’s and put them in her lap as a few tears, Henry couldn’t tell if they were happy or scared tears, slipped down her cheeks. Henry was still staring at her intently, his smile even wider if that were possible. He watched her put her one of her hands under her hair and rub the back of her neck, just like Killian always did.

 “Why did you ask her that?” Hope asked breaking the silence that had enveloped them after Alice had finished her revelation. Alice almost looked embarrassed about Hope asking. She’d just bared her soul about all the thoughts that had been in her head, probably for years, and how Henry’s book had opened the floodgates, and Hope’s only response had been to ask why Henry had asked that particular question? Of course Hope would be the non-believer. Like mother, like daughter.

 “That’s actually a very good question, Hope.” Henry said, his smile never fading. He beamed something that he hoped conveyed pride at Alice before looking over at his sister. 

 “I was going to start out telling you something different. I went over this in so many different ways the past two days, but I think I’m going to have to start with the storybook.” Henry said as he went to grab something out of his satchel. Hope rolled her eyes and scoffed.

 “Henry, you cannot tell us we are sisters and then just go off about your fairy tale book. I get that she’s a fan, but there are more important things going on here besides your book.” Hope said, exasperated. Henry paid her no mind. He placed two books on the table. One was a much bigger, much older looking copy of his book, made from what looked like real leather and gold leaf. Like something the publisher might sell as a collector’s edition. The other looked like his current book, only it was white with a picture of an apple tree on it in a golden frame. It also said Once Upon a Time, but not as ornately as the last book. The O was in red while the rest of the letters were in brown. Underneath the title read the words: Emma’s Story.

 “Is...is that the new book?” Alice squeaked out. Henry’s smile grew even wider if that was possible.

 “It sure is, Alice.” He said quite happily. “And, actually, Hope, these books will tell you everything you need to know about your past.” Both Hope and Alice looked at him. Hope’s expression was one of disbelief. She’d always held their mother’s belief in the practical, everything had a logical explanation, even if lightbulbs tended to pop when one of them were angry, or they’d find random candles lit without any explanation for it when they really needed to relax. Alice’s eyebrows were practically in her hairline for how high she had raised them. Henry could see that she was more open to what he was trying to tell her.

 “They’re all true?” Was all that Alice could get out.

 “Yes, Alice,” Henry nodded, “they’re all true.” Alice smiled with tears starting to form in her eyes. 

 Hope looked from Henry to Alice completely confused. He could see she was trying to comprehend what he was trying to tell her, that the fairy tales he had written about were supposed to be real, but her brain did not compute that. Fairy tales weren’t real. They lived in the real world and magical things simply did not happen. And now Hope was getting angry, because Henry still hadn’t provided any explanation to how she and Alice had become separated and why they had been told lies their whole lives about who their parents were.

 Henry sighed. “Look,” he said, running his fingers through his hair nervously, “this book here,” he pulled out the larger copy of his book and placed it on the center of the table, careful not to knock over any of their half drunk mugs, “is not just some fiction I made up.” He couldn’t believe he was in this situation where he had to explain this all over again. “Every story in this book actually happened. It’s the story of our grandparents and what they went through to eventually end up in this world.” Alice took in a breath of air while Hope looked at Henry like he was insane.

 “Henry,” Hope started, “fairy tales aren’t real. What you’re saying is ludicrous, and you’re beginning to really scare me.”

 “So, the Emma at the end of the book,” Alice said in barely a whisper, “she’s your mom? She’s actually the real daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and the savior destined to break the Evil Queen’s curse?” Henry knew it was a lot to take in, he knew it sounded insane, but he could also see that Alice believed every word that Henry was telling her. Hope just stared at both of them with a look that said she felt like she was the only sane person at their table. 

 “She did break the curse!” he said excitedly. “That’s what’s in this book. How our mother broke the curse and the various things that happened afterwards until she came to the Final Battle. And then….” Henry took a breath trying to stave off the catch that was starting to form in his throat. “We were separated. That’s how this book ends. With our separation.” He grabbed the almost empty mug in front of him and drained the last dregs of hot cocoa that were in there, grimacing at the grainy texture of the chocolate that had coagulated at the bottom. When he looked back at his sisters (he had never been so happy to add that extra ‘s’) he could see that Alice was thoroughly convinced that he spoke the truth, but Hope was still looking at him with a mix of incredulousness and a slight hint of murder. He could see her wanting to object again but cut her off when he continued with what he had to say. 

 “The final book. The final book of my series has not been written. I have no idea how it will end. Both of you need to help me write it because it’s about us, all of us. You two, me, mom, and Killian. It’s about what happened to us and a terrible danger that we will have to face.” Hope’s face immediately tensed at the word danger; Alice’s face lit up intrigued. He continued. “It won’t be easy. I am putting us all in jeopardy, but I don’t have a choice. This is something that we’ve known about since you two were born and I’m the one who has had to carry the burden of it for the past almost 12 years.” Tears were falling from his eyes and Alice handed him a napkin as Hope had never given him back his handkerchief from earlier. Alice also had tears falling as she had listened to what he had told him. Hope just looked frustrated.

 “Henry,” Hope said, breaking in again, “are we ever going to get any answers, or are you just going to parade your books around to Alice and let her fangirl over them. We’ve been here,” she checked her watch,” for an hour and you’ve given us nothing but fairy tales. Not even that, you’ve just given us the books to decipher an answer out of! We have to meet back on the bus to camp in an hour. Are you going to be able to tell us everything we need to know by then?” She gave Henry the look, the look he’d seen too many times on his mother that showed that he wasn’t telling her the whole truth and she was getting tired of it. If she’d been standing, Henry was sure she’d be stomping her foot like the tantrums she used to throw when she was younger.

 Henry thought for a minute. There was no way he could tell them everything he needed to in an hour. Hell, would they even be able to function at camp after everything he needed to tell them? Would they even believe him? Alice definitely seemed open to it, but Hope, she was so stubborn. It was like trying to convince their mother all over again. And that’s when he made the decision.

 “Look, Alice, do you trust me?” He asked, holding out his hand to her. She didn’t even hesitate, she took his hand and answered yes. “Hope, Alice, you are sisters. I am your half brother. Emma and Killian love each other very much, they just don’t remember, and I need your help to bring our family back together. But to do that, you’re going to have to leave camp and come with me. Can you do that?” 

 Alice nodded with no hesitation. Henry probably should have been a little more concerned that Alice seemed so willing to leave camp and go off with a perfect stranger who had just told her that he was her brother with no other explanation except that fairy tales were real and she needed to somehow get their family back together, a family that didn’t even know they were broken, but he saw the belief in her eyes and the trust she had toward him and Hope, and he looked past that concern. Besides, he was her brother, just because she didn’t remember him didn’t mean they weren’t blood. Both he and Alice looked over at Hope who was still looking at them like they were the craziest people she had ever met. Henry was about to apologize for ruining her camp experience when she finally spoke.

 “Well, I guess you two don’t really leave me a choice. I gotta make sure you crazy, and yes, I mean the literal meaning of crazy, people don’t get into too much trouble. Someone has to make sure that when mom and Alice’s dad, ...our dad, whoever he is, find us that we have a sane person to explain we went willingly and Henry doesn’t get arrested for kidnapping or whatever.” Hope flipped her ponytail behind her shoulder as if she didn’t really care either way if they got in trouble or not, but Henry knew better. He knew she was coming along on this crazy ride to make sure Henry didn’t do something stupid and to be there for Alice.

 Henry held out his hand for Hope since he was still holding Alice’s from earlier. She hesitated only a moment before grabbing it. Alice and Hope both gave a slight jolt, something most people would not have noticed or thought they had just had a shiver run through them at the same time, but Henry knew, he knew that was the sign that everything was starting. It was the sign that their family was coming back together.

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @cssns @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx  @qualitycoffeethings​

[thesparkinthefire]

Ghost - Pedro Pascal x Reader, part 2

A/N: I finally, finally finished this. Wuhu! Part two of the Ghost series (that is turning into a three piece) is here for your entertainment. The musical mentioned later on is called Six and I am referring to the character of Katherine Howard, in case anyone is interested. I tried not to let the musical-nerd take over but I don’t know if that worked. I also wrote a bit about The Mandalorian and will just assume everyone who likes Pedro has already seen that, haha.

Word count: 3,729

Paaring: Pedro Pascal x musical!Reader

Trigger Warning: anxiety, age gap hinted, someone cried a bit

part one

“If there's anything left I can do to convince myself it could be true it's up to me, to suspend my disbeliefs.” - Suspend my disbeliefs, the Ghost cast album

You were nervous. More than that. Your confidence had gone missing two days ago and you started asking yourself why you had even accepted the role in the first place. You were portraying Molly. Molly. The female leading role of a musical based on a movie that everyone had seen. What made you think that it was a good idea in the first place?

Of course you and Oscar, who was playing Sam, had been practising for weeks but the premiere was only two days away. Two day. You had been staring at the script in front of you for ten minutes now. What was the line? This morning, when you had done your first run through you had remembered it but now it was gone – erased from your memory and you couldn't stop asking yourself how you were suppose to remember anything once you were on stage. No, you thought to yourself. Now was not the right time to panic. You just had to go through the whole scene and the line would come to you. Okay, breath. What was the scene?

Molly and Karl were sitting in a restaurant, talking about how she had information about Sam's murder. Sam, as a ghost, was standing beside them. While she was trying to convince Karl to believe what the fortune-teller had said. Suspend My Disbelieves was playing in the background. Molly was telling him the things the psychist had told her – the photo they took in an empty bus, the starfish in Montego Bay – and that Sam knew who killed him. Karl protests and Molly tells him, that she had a name and address and that Sam wants her to go to the police. “The police? Jesus, Molly,” says Karl. “What are you gonna tell them?” Sam talks in the background and Molly-... What does Molly say? Fuck.

It was gone. The line was gone, fucking vanished. You would never be able to do the whole show even though that was what you started with. Acting in a movie was so different to performing in a musical. When shooting a movie you had multiple takes to get a scene right – sometime you would even go back at a later point and rework it, when the writers changed a dialogue or something just wasn't right about it. But when you were doing a musical you normally only had about a month of rehearsals with the cast, before that you learned the songs on your own and had your vocals prepared for the assemble to join you. And then you rehearsed. And rehearsed and rehearsed. But there was no rewind once the show started. No one was gonna yell “Cut!” and ask you to do it again. The audience was right in front of you and they expected nothing less than you doing your job without any mistakes.

Musicals had always been your passion. You had been in music-focused classes in school giving you two extra music lessons a week and joined the school's choir as soon as you were allowed to. You had been taking dancing classes since you were a child. Playing theatre in the long summer holidays and visiting theatre camps. You had been growing up wanting to be a musical actress and your dream had become true when you joined a West End production in London. Your first role was in the assemble, the next was a side character and the next a main. People saw you had potential and they never regretted giving you a chance. Then you had the offer to play the female leading role in a teen-romance movie – before that you had never through about filming movies but you gave it a try and hell. It felt like a dream when they called you to tell you, that the statistics had been going through the roof. From one day to another your life changed completely. That was when you stopped playing theatre and musicals. You moved to California, after you had been offered a role in a promising movie series and then got the part in The Mandalorian. And met Pedro.

You grew up with Star Wars. Your whole childhood had been Star Wars themed – from birthday parties to the prequels in cinema to The Clone Wars series to reading literally every book out there. If there was anything you loved as much as you loved musicals it was Star Wars. You remembered your dad calling you “Padawan” when you were building birdhouses when you were ten years old. You remember presenting a Star Wars book in school. You even did your final oral exam in Spanish about Star Wars just because it was the only thing you could possible focus on other than musicals. So when you had the chance to be part of that universe you took it. Nothing could have kept you from doing it. You knew you would accept it before you even knew what the part would exactly be. When you met John and Dave – who were producing and writing The Mandalorian – you were shaking. You were so nervous that you felt like you were about to shit your pants at any minute, you chugged a whole glass of water during the meeting and just couldn't stop shaking. That's how excited you were. And it didn't get better when they told you about what they had planned for your character.

Aurine Jaxx – your character – was set to become something like the girlfriend to Din Djarin. Not really a girlfriend, because his life and story line was focused about The Child but you were introduced to show even more how much he struggled in between being a Mandalorian warrior and wanting to retire and just be human. You loved Pedro Pascal and how he portrayed Din. Of course you had seen the first season of the show. That scene in the last episode when the droid took his helmet off? Those were the only two minutes when your saw his face all season but the acting in this was fabulous. Messed up hair, trembling lips, shiny eyes – you were able to see how afraid of dying he was, even though it was something he had been confronted with every day of his life since he was a child. You were over the moon to be able to work with him.

Din met the fiance of Aurine in a dubious bar. He asked him to return his soon-to-be wife to him after she had ran away. Din, in need of a job after breaking with the guild, accepted and met her. But soon he found out that she was running from him, not because she was afraid to commit to a life with him, but because he was mistreating her, cheating on her and even threatening to physically hurt her. So Din took her with him instead of bringing her back to the fiance and she stayed. They grew closer and closer and he started trusting her more than anyone.

The scene you were the most nervous for was kissing him. Of course acting with someone who wore a helmet all the time wasn't easy but the kissing scene was way harder. It was set to be at night-time, The Child sleeping in the ship while Din and Aurine sat outside by a small campfire in the middle of nowhere. You had to close your eyes and he placed his hand above them just to be sure you wouldn't be able to look. You remember his hands being cold, contrasting the warm breath in your skin. His lips ghosted over yours, before he kissed you. He was so gentle and shy about it, while you moved a hand into his hair and pulled him closer. Soft lips on yours while his fingers painted feather-light touches on your cheek. Watching the scene back was sending shivers down your spine. Kissing Pedro Pascal wasn't something you ever thought you would. He was such a talented actor that you were almost sure he wasn't acting in that scene, that he had really been nervous to kiss you. Maybe you were hoping for it. But obviously that wasn't the case. He was a brilliant actor.

And now you were here. Back at playing musicals, what you had started with, and you never felt so insecure in your whole life. Confidence was the key to a good stage presence and you had lost it all. So when you got a text from Pedro you basically lost it. All he sent was “How are you doing? Haven't heard from you all day.” but it made you tear up immediately. Without sparing a second thought you asked him, if he wanted to come over because you were about to freak out. “Be there in 15.”

Pedro had a talent for calming your nerves – he had proven that a few times during your time together at press-tour for The Mandalorian. Interviews made you nervous especially if they were live or in front of a huge audience. You were always afraid you might say something the fans wouldn't be pleased with or even accidentally spoiling the show. He made sure you drank enough throughout the day, got enough rest, and always had some sweets for you before an interview to push your blood sugar and stop your hands from shaking. His touch was calming and comforting but made your heart race at the same time. In a good way. Saying, you didn't like being close to him, would be lying. He held your hand at crowded places, had an arm over the backrest of your seat during interviews and sometimes even cuddled with you in cold planes. You have had a few movie nights over the weeks you have been touring, because the hype for the second season was enormous, and they always ended the same: Watching maybe half of the movie before one of you fell asleep. You have been falling asleep on his shoulder and woken up to the beat of his heart.

So it was no surprise to you, that he showed up at your door with a bar of chocolate and two beer. “Do you think alcohol is the thing I need right now?”

“Alcohol calms one's nerves,” he answered with a smile, handing you the beer and the chocolate, after you had let him inside. “You said you were freaking out and I guessed it was because of the premiere, so I brought you something to help you calm a bit.”

“But alcohol is not the best thing for your voice.”

“It is not?”

“Not for your singing voice,” you confirmed, dropping onto the sofa. You put your head back and closed your eyes. You shouldn't be bitching around – you had asked him to come over. “Sorry, I am just stressed. I keep forgetting that one line I have right before the break and the thought that that might happen on stage, in front of the audience, scares me.”

Pedro sat down beside you, gaze wandering over you. “I get that but you are gonna be okay. You are a great actress and do musicals just as well.”

“You have never seen me perform a musical.”

“Internet,” he admitted, causing you to open your eyes and tilting your head into his direction. “Don't look at me like that, you have watched my former projects too. You have basically seen me naked.”

“Well, that's because your projects were big and highly advertised – unlike the small musicals I took part in. You can only watch them because of illegal uploads on YouTube.” Oh, some of those YouTube videos had the potential to drive him mad.

The musical you had gotten a leading role in was about girl power and women realizing, that they should work together and hype each other instead of comparing one another. He loved that message, really, but what he loved more was you. And that little of a costume you were wearing. You were basically in nothing more than tights, a bodysuit and a see-through skirt on stage. Maybe it was fate that no videos of your solo song were online – the song was rather sexy and Pedro didn't know if he would have been able to handle seeing you in that costume, singing about men wanting you.

“I like to do my research on the people I work with.”

You couldn't fight the smile forming on your lips. “I should have done a deep dive into my brain before I accepted the role. Seriously, I don't think I can do it. I might just pass out right before the curtain opens.”

“You will do great,” he assured you.

“I won't.” You got up to get a bottle opener from your kitchen. “I can't even remember that one line.”

“Let me help.” You sat back down, handed Pedro the opener after you had opened you own beer and took a sip. “Which scene are we talking about?” He had the script in his hands already. Oscar and you had him over for practise a few times, so he knew most of the scenes you shared.

“The one where Molly first tells Karl that Sam had been murdered. I know that Sam says something like “Jesus, Molly, what are you gonna tell them?” and then I am suppose to say something but I can't remember it at all. I have been going through the scene a million times now – talking it through, acting through it, but nothing helps.”

“No wonder you don't remember what you are suppose to say.” He laughed quietly and you really didn't know what on earth was funny about that. “You are singing.”

“I am-” All of a sudden the line was back in your head as if it had never been gone. Of course! “Suspend my disbelieves.” Pedro nodded. “Oh, thank god, I am not going crazy!”

“You are gonna have the music on stage that will remind you, that you have to sing – don't worry.”

“That is the problem, you know? I used to not be this worried when it came to musicals. I used to be so confident in what I am doing but it is all gone now. When did that happen?”

“You just haven't performed in front of an audience for a long time. That happens to me too when I go back from cinema and TV to theatre.” You had almost forgotten about that. On one hand you would love to see him in a play, but that would mean he would stay in his home in New York, while you were Los Angeles based right now. You didn't even think about the possibility about him moving back to the opposite side of the country once all deals and meetings for his next projects were done. He had stayed in his LA apartment ever since you met him, except for the time between Christmas and the new year. How were you suppose to survive here without him? “Do you want to sing one of the songs? Music always seems to calms you.”

The question hit you out of the blue but he was right. You had a playlist full of songs that soothed you and you had used it more than once since the rehearsals had started. “Y-yeahr,” you answered, nodded, and moved over to your piano. “Can I sing a sad song?”

“You mean Without You? I haven't heard you sing that one yet.” Of course he had listened to the original cast record. Why haven't you thought about that? Yes, he had heard some songs of the production you were working on, but mainly the ones you shared with Oscar. And there wouldn't be an album for your cast.

“Okay, I will try to do that.”

“You will be great.” His words made your heart skip a beat. How was he able to smooth you with such a simple sentence?

“But you gotta stay behind me – I don't like seeing people stare at me when I sing.”

“Says you, the musical actress?” He had to hold back a laugh.

“Performing on stage in front of an audience of hundreds is something else than performing for one person in my living room.”

“Okay, I'll give you that. Go ahead.” Pedro moved to stand behind you, the beer still in his hand. You sat everything up and took a deep breath before you started the song. It was probably the most emotional moment of the whole show, besides the final. Molly was mourning Sam with that song, expressing the pain of losing him and how she tried to deal with it. Performing it in the play was hard, because you were on the edge of crying for real most of the times. Of course you had lost people close to you in your young life already, but part of the song also reminded you of Pedro and how hopeless your love for him was. He probably saw himself as a mentor of your, I not even a father figure. But you couldn't stop seeing him in front of your inner eyes among the line “Every place I wanna be, I wanna see you there.” You wanted him by your side. You wanted him to be your date for the premiere and the after show party. You didn't want him to go back to New York, you wanted him to stay with you in LA. You wanted him to hold you when times were as stressful as they were right now. You wanted him to kiss you, to wrap his arms around you and to tell you, that no matter what happened, he would be by your side. And you wanted him to mean it. To feel the same. To love you. God, you wished he would love you.

By the end of the song your heart was aching. It was hurting and you were glad, that he didn't say a word for a minute. You could just pretend that you were in your role and he would understand that the song made you sad, because it made Molly sad. But just as you were about to crack a lame joke about it, you heard a sniff. And it didn't come from you. “Are you-” You turned around to see Pedro having his back turned to you, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Are you crying?”

“No.” His voice was shaking. Slowly he turned back facing you, lips curled to a small smile. “Absolutely not.” His eyes were a little red and shiny. He was crying.

“Oh god, I am sorry.” You stood up and went to hug him.

“Just proves what a great actress you are.” He returned it. You closed your eyes, leaned your head against him and took a quiet but deep breath. Was it selfish? Maybe. But perhaps you needed the comfort just as much as he did. Just in a different way. Feeling his warm body against your own. His hair tickled your ear. God, he smelled good. Something you had always liked about him. You couldn't define it, but it was good. Everything about him was good. And you regretted nothing more, than that you had never asked him out, never had made a move on him.

Taglist: @longitud-de-onda

[nomoregoldfish]

Imagine catching Amado building secret airport in the jungle; Enemies to friends /w benefits (2/2)

This one goes out of my hands. I don’t even know what kind of monster it is now, smh. The formatting seems screwed up. Please read it on AO3 if you want. Again, if tubmlr flag the gif below, I’LL RIOT.

"Is this a date? What's the dress code? Cargo pants don't count." Amado sounds flirty when you call him the other day. It's not really his fault because you are the one who asks him out.

Since the formidable drug trafficker hasn't sent any sicario to make you disappear, you figure you still have chances to make him reconsider the plan of building an airport. You're willing to do whatever it takes to save the jungle and the ruins.

Plus seeing Amado again is not a bad idea.

You can't justify why you ignore your go-to outfit including cargo pants. Instead, you put on your tightest jeans.

You pick up Amado at four in the morning. The tall man looks sleepy and slightly confused, which is kinda cute. You offer him black coffee in your vacuum bottle. 

After the first sip, Amado turns to you with his misty down-turned eyes, "No cargo pants today?" You try not to smile, "Shut up."

You're taking him to the Palenque ruins, another Mayan site in Chiapas, just few hours drive away.

You manage to get there before the sunrise. The site hasn't opened yet but you know a secret route because you also worked on the excavation project there. 

"You have a thing for sneaking in, uh, Ms. Geologist?" You shouldn't encourage him but whatever, the banter is... fun. 

Walking with Amado in the dense mountain forest actually is a perfect date in your dictionary. Your shoes are wet with morning dew but nobody cares. Listen to birds chirping and fogs croaking in the dim light. 

"You're really not afraid of darkness, are you?" Amado sounds genuinely curious. "Why would I be? I worked on this site for years, I've known the whole place by heart." He nods, like some acknowledgement.

It's almost dawn, you look at the tinted horizon when you reach the top of the mountain. The entire ancient city of Palenque is quiet and peaceful wrapped in the jungle, reminds you why you chose what you do with your life.

"I want to show you something." It's the Temple of the Inscriptions, one of the most iconic Mayan architecture lightened up by the morning sun. Starting from the history, you explain to Amado not only the symbolic significance of the temple and the secret tomb inside, but also the epic war Emperor Pakal waged against Yaxchilán. 

Amado doesn't stop you. You keep talking, sharing your involvement in those excavation projects with him, how excited you are when a new site is discovered, how proud you felt for your team when Palenque was recognized as World Heritage Site not long ago, which meant more funds, more human resources, and better equipment for all scientists working on it for years. You want to continue to study the whole area, even several rival/ally sites in Guatemala and Belize, to find more satellite cities, battlefields, to be able to define the border of those ancient powerhouses and finally draw a map of the mysterious kingdom.

He looks at you like you're some kind of heroine. It's heartwarming but you're not sure, "So, what do you think?"

Amado's playing coy, but you're persistent. "Come on. I'm a geologist. I can't hire assassins. What else am I supposed to do to make you change your mind? Put on my most expensive dress, show off my ass, wine and dine you?"

"Though I'd love to see you in a nice dress, jeans are great, too." The northern banditote smirks, eyeing your lower body, "Plus the whole speech, I told you I love it when you talk about your job. You seem to know exactly what you're doing."

Amado doesn't promise anything. He says he'll figure something out.

You exhale deeply. At least the guy listened, you appreciate it. 

Then you find out there's nothing left in your vacuum bottle, the fucker drank all your coffee, "How am I supposed to drive back without any coffee in my system?"

Amado pulls you in for a kiss, warm and tastes much better than your shitty coffee. The fresh stubble overnight of his stings and it feels so good, you can't help cupping his face and kissing back. 

Then he announces he'd drive if you just say "El Señor de los Cielos, please." You tell him to fuck off but toss the car key to him anyway.

You haven't contacted each other after that for a while. You tell yourself it's nothing. It's not like you two have had something. 

You send people every week to monitor the construction of the airport from a hidden spot on the mountain. Meanwhile you complete the scan of the area surrounding the soon-to-be airport and find a possible target. You have to be on the ground again to confirm it. 

Unluckily you break your ankle one day in the jungle. And you don't want to put any colleague's life at risk to get near the cartel's territory. You decide to wait on Amado, you believe he's a man of his words. 

Amado surprises you one night at your camp. He jokes that a geologist can sneak into a drug cartel's property, it'd be humiliating if he doesn't return the favor. His face and neck are perfectly tanned, you want to immerse yourself in that hot chocolate. You almost jump out of excitement because you haven't seen Amado for a month. Then you remember you're confined to your desk and seat due to the injury. 

"You're expecting someone else? Ms. Geologist." Amado sounds a bit down. "I..." You want to ask him so many things. Has he figured it out? Who is in charge of the airport when he's away? And where has he been? Why does it take him so long to come back? Maybe minus the last question. It'd sound desperate. 

He says he flies from Juaréz, "One of the longest domestic flights," he claims as looking around your tent office, sketches and maps scattered all the place. When his eyes meet yours again, it's so gentle, full of fondness.

"You only want to talk about business?" He's getting close, "I just fly almost 2,000 miles and you're not even standing up. Look who's more cold-blooded than drug traffickers."

Before you realize what happens, Amado lowers his body and carries you off the chair. He doesn't touch your ankle but it still hurts when you're suddenly moved.

Amado finds out. The man in black examines your injury carefully. You never saw him so concerned before. He quickly comes to the conclusion that your injury is worse than it looks and needs better treatment. 

No, you're not gonna leave your job. You have papers to write, new budget to apply, more areas to explore. Slowly it'd recover.

"Don't you want to wade across rivers, trek through jungles, and climb mountains again? If you love your job so much, you have to get better treatment, immediately! And take some good rest. Give it a few more weeks? Oh God, you're insane." He's so mad at you.

You finally agree, and Amado insists on carrying you again to his vehicle. You know it's not your priority right now but holy fuck, he's fucking built. And you're inches away from his big nose which you've had a crush on for a while.

He's gonna fly you to the state capital Tuxtla Gutiérrez.

"You don't fly 2,000 miles just to see me, do you?" You poke him during the flight, sitting next to the sexy pilot in the cockpit is a treat. 

"Dear Ms. Geologist, remember I have a job, too?"

The pain is getting worse, Amado notices it then hands you a joint from nowhere. You're about ask whether it's legal to have weed on the plane, then you realize you're with a real drug dealer. "Not to bad to have a narcos friend, huh?" OK, you gives him that as the weed kicks in. 

"So now we're friends?" You're obviously high, and bold. Because you find your hand dangerously near his groin for no reason, fumbling. "I always wanted to touch it." You giggle. 

Amado politely removes your hand and tells you to behave.

"You know what? You could've been the most popular guy at our camp. Someone might trade blowjobs for your weed since we're just low-paid scientists and assistants." You're high like a kite.

You also "threaten" if Amado extends any further in the jungle to build more airport facilities when you're put away, you swear to God you'll...

"You'll what? Shut up and rest, cabrón. Or I'll take you directly to DF, better physicians there anyway."

And the fucker did, a day after a Chiapas physician suggests you seek the best orthopedic treatment in DF for speedy recovery.

Then Amado disappears again. You know he's probably running a drug cartel in the north, and only checking in on their hidden project near the southern border once a month or two. It's the way it is. Your lives only collide when it's meant to be. There's no fucking way you two see each other like normal people do. 

You still miss Amado, miss the banter, even his northern accent. 

During the two-month therapy in DF, you receive reports that the airport is completed, and the potential target site nearby is now a giant warehouse. You also learn a big donation is made specifically to the Yaxchilán excavation project, of course, anonymously.

That's what Amado meant by "figuring something out." You're not even mad. What's the alternate outcome when you're up against the narcos? Report it? The entire cabinet is probably in their pocket. You should be relieved that no one ends up dead during the little stupid game you played.

You can't even return the drug money because, a) you can't tell anyone where it's from; b) INAH's been underfunded for decades, the project fucking needs it, so do your colleagues.

You call that number again after you get back to the ground. You don't know how to end this, or is there anything to end? 

"Come over next weekend, I'll be there and I can explain." Amado sounds poised and calm, like he always does.

You tell yourself to keep it civil. This is a losing battle since day one.

Amado meets you in front of a warehouse, he looks great, all charming smile and open arms. All you can think of is the location of the warehouse, it must be the one. Most likely it's being buried.

"You bring flowers, how nice." It's the white birds of paradise, which suits him, El Señor de los Cielos. You tell him you're grateful for the injury advice he insisted.

"Can I show you something?" Amado opens the door of the warehouse. It all feels like yesterday, when you showed him the sunrise at Palenque, talking about your future plan. How naive were you.

Some jaw-dropping scene in front of you. The entire site of ruins, intact, locked inside the warehouse with minimal structure to shield from the rain and sunshine.

"What? You thought I'm gonna show you cocaine? No offense, baby, you can't afford the Colombian white magic. This is all you get, some fucking broken rocks with barely recognizable inscriptions." The bastard shrugs.

How did he find this site? "Sorry. Let's say I accidentally took a copy of your scan map last time at your camp, when you were busy with your ankle problem." You fucking knew it, it's never what it looked like when it comes to Amado Carrillo Fuentes.

Yet you can't believe what you just see. It is NOT real. It can't be.

That's when harsh reality kicks in. It always starts with a but. "You can't work on it, not now." Amado explains the situation and his plan for your ruins, which he thinks it's better to keep them under the radar for now. No tomb raider would dare to approach it, you can work on many other sites first.

"Then what?" You keep digging. Amado sighs, giving you a melancholy smile, "This line of work doesn't tend to last very long. It will be yours one day. Before that, it's completely safe. You have my word." 

Amado's kind of.... correct, and practical to be honest. INAH doesn't have enough resources for thousands of projects. Even with the hard work you and your colleagues pulled, it's estimated less than 10% of the total area of Palenque was explored and partially restored.

You carefully examine the site, making notes and sketches to create a hasty profile.

Amado focuses on something else, "It seems you walk just fine. Fully recovered, no rush? Good. And has your budget been approved? Got more money? I mean, the efficiency of any bureaucratic system is questionable in this country. If it still falls short, I can...." 

You can't tell if he's been an asshole or a saint, God forbid.

"For fuck's sake, I don't want your fucking money. I just, I want...." You turn around, look defeated, "Your dick, OK? Who cares about your dirty drug money? You Sinaloan monkey!"

Amado bursts into laughter, "Why don't you take both, dear Ms. Geologist?" He put your hand below his belt buckle, "I think you made it very clear last time."

"It's your fucking nose, narizón." You gently caress it, and he's getting hard beneath the fabric and it's fucking huge.

You're on your knees, trying to take Amado's full length in. Fuck, it's difficult. You're embarrassed and he's like "Shhh, it's okay, baby."

Instead, Amado's going down on you, making your knees weak af. You have to grab the stones to stand still. 

Amado eating your out with patience, salt and pepper stubble rubbing against the most sensitive part of your body which gives you more trouble, and fingering you at the same fucking time. Let that sink in for a moment.

You don't stand a chance, you come so hard.

Amado's taking you from behind, big hands on your hips to keep you still against the ancient structure. Rock into you with deep, short thrusts. You're wet for him like rivers during monsoon season. 

Your legs are shaking when he hits right at the spot again. "Wanna to make a good girl like you squirm and scream." Fuck, Amado always gets what he desires as he pulls you hair up, leaving hickeys on your neck while he fucks you thoroughly.

The best orgasm through your whole life. And the fucker is proud of it, "Told you. You'd better take both, baby. The green and the big D."

Does it mean you really gonna take money from narcos? This is so fucked up. 

Later Amado fixes you some nice margarita, casually asking if you want to join him for a business trip to Belize the next day. "I have to buy some stuff in Belmopan. Maybe we can stop by Lamanai with my private jet after that if you'd like."

How the fuck does he know you wanted to visit the Mayan ruins in a remote foreign town for years? 

The concern becomes less shocking when you see Amado buy a bunch of Boeing 727s in Belmopan like a Sunday grocery run.

[shireness-says]

Wherever You’re Going (I’m Going Your Way) [2/6]

Summary: 1952. A lost boy without a home, Killian Jones rides America’s back roads on his motorcycle, searching for a purpose that’s just out of reach. This pit stop was only supposed to be a few days, a couple of weeks at most, but a pretty blonde waitress just might be his salvation. Is he brave enough to let her? Rated T for language. ~5.5K.  Also on AO3. Ch. 1

~~~~~

The bench outside of Nolan's Garage is a nice one, all things considered. Killian would know, after a summer spent sleeping on a series of them. It's got an armrest at one end that he can prop his bedroll against for a pillow and is good, sturdy wood instead of the stylized metal contraptions some towns insist on adopting for aesthetic or some such. 

After months on the road, Killian is now more used to sleeping out of doors, only seeking an inn or other shelter on rainy nights to protect from the elements. He's used to the way the birds start their song at dawn, the way the sun's rays gradually wash across his face to bathe him in a brightness and warmth that eventually coaxes him back to the waking world. What he's not used to is the dark shadow that is suddenly cast across his form, looming and severe, tangible even in his dozing state. With great effort, Killian peels his eyes open to find a man standing over him — tall, blonde, wide-shouldered. Visibly unhappy. 

"You must be the stranger," he states simply. Even in those five words, Killian can hear the judgement, the distrust, the disapproval. It's nothing he's not used to; one doesn't exactly endear oneself to the locals by showing up unexpectedly in their idyllic little towns and sleeping on park benches.

"Aye," he agrees, pushing himself into a sitting position and extending a hand in introduction. "Killian Jones."

"I don't care." The other man's arms stay crossed, his expression severe. "What do you want?"

Killian sighs. "I don't suppose you're Nolan?"

"I might be. Like I said — what do you want?"

Whoever claimed that honey worked better than vinegar was clearly a liar; either that, or Nolan is rather smarter than your average fly. Possibly both. "I'm afraid I’ve run into some trouble with my bike," Killian says simply, nodding towards the machine in question. "I hoped maybe I could avail myself of your services." It's needlessly formal, but it feels like the kind of thing he might have said in his past life to charm all matter of different people into doing his bidding. 

"Can you pay?"

Killian hesitates. This is where things get a little more complicated. "Aye," he finally says — not a lie, per say, though not exactly the truth — "Though I'd prefer to pay with labor than with money."

The statement earns him an appraising look. "You can do auto repair?"

"At a rudimentary level, yes," he admits. Still, he hesitates before adding the next part; the next part is what could open him up to a whole series of questions he's not much in the mood to answer. "I picked up a few things during the war, though I'm more used to dealing with plane engines than cars."

For all of Killian's fears, Nolan doesn't immediately press, or offer pointless platitudes. In fact, Killian would almost say that something about his posture releases, lets go of some of the tension he'd been carrying. "Why can't you fix it yourself then?"

"Hard to fix much of anything without the right parts - in this case, a tire. I just need someone to order it for me, and a place I can replace it.  I figured — if you're amenable — I could help out around here until the tire comes in or I've worked off the cost."

Nolan looks at him a moment longer, before finally nodding — slowly, thoughtfully, decisively — and jerking his head towards the garage. "Come on in, then, and we'll take a look."

Killian quickly gathers his things and moves to wheel his bike in as Nolan goes to roll up his front garage door. "You said you served? In what, the RAF?" he asks as Killian begins to push the bike inside.

"Yes, sir." Maybe he's a little bit short, but he's learned that’s the best way to discourage further questioning. 

Not that he needs to worry about that; the blond man just nods again. "I was in the Army. In Italy. And it's David."

It's all the explanation either of them needs; some things, they both understand, don't bear further discussion.

"We don't get much by way of excitement around here. A few flat tires, oil changes, that kind of thing," Nolan — David explains. "Most of our business is just pumping gas. You think you can handle all that?"

“Aye. It won’t be a problem.”

“Let’s take a look then.”

David’s garage is neater than Killian expected. In his experience, auto shops are dirty, grungy places. Though there is still a bit of that — engine grease has a way of working its way into corners and sticking around for far longer than anyone would prefer — all his tools are neatly organized, clearly left in long-since-designated places. If he had to guess, he’d say it must be a bit of that military order leftover in David. 

“You said something about a tire?” the other man asks, already crouching down to squeeze at the rubber. 

“Aye. I drove over a nail at some point, and it’s become embedded in the front tire. It’s only a slow leak right now, but it needs addressing.”

David runs a sure hand along the curve to find the piece of metal in question before leaning in for a closer look. “Yeah, it’s in there pretty good,” he agrees. “We can take it out and slap a patch on there, if you like, but that’s more of a temporary measure. I’d recommend just replacing the whole thing. The tread is getting worn anyways. How far have you been riding?”

“Went all the way to the gulf and back up.”

“Yeah, you’re due then. It’s up to you, but I’d like to order tires for the front and back.”

“Aye, that sounds fine,” Killian agrees. “Best to replace them at the same time, anyways. How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Hard to say,” David shrugs. “The work itself isn’t the issue — you know that will go quickly — but it’s the shipping that’s more of a problem. I’ll call today, get that ball rolling, but we’re a ways out. It can take a while for things to get all the way out here. If I had to guess… a week? Maybe two?”

It’s not ideal; that’s a long time for Killian to stay in one place, and it makes him feel anxious. He feels better when he’s moving. But what other choice does he have?

(A week, maybe two, and he’s gone. Anyone can withstand that; even he can endure it.)

“That’s fine,” he repeats. Uselessly. There’s nothing else to say, though — David can’t rush how long it takes things to get here, and Killian knows exactly how far in the middle of nowhere this town is.

“Before I agree to trade parts for labor, though, I’ve got to see what you can do. I can’t just put you to work on a promise,” David warns. “Otherwise, you’re going to have to come up with the money.”

“Of course.”

David leads them across the shop to where a sedan is lifted up to display its underside. “Routine oil change,” David explains, nodding vaguely in the direction of the car’s guts. “Think you can handle it?”

Killian doesn’t bother to confirm or deny — a waste of speech, really, when he could get down to the doing — just shrugs his jacket off to drape over a nearby tool bench. “Any gloves I could borrow?”

David passes them in equal silence, and Killian sets to work. There’s something soothing about the ritual of all this — unscrew the drain cap and let the used oil drain into a receptacle, remove the old oil filter, and replace it with a new one. The hardest bit is figuring out how to lower the car back to normal level and where David keeps the fresh oil. 

“I can change a tire, too, if you need more proof,” Killian offers as he strips off the borrowed gloves again.

“That’s fine. I think I can find something for you to do around here. Let me show you the cash register, you’ll need that for gas.”

And just like that, they’ve come to an arrangement.

David doesn’t expect much by way of conversation — a good thing, since Killian doesn’t have much to give. He’s out of practice, frankly, no longer skilled in all the ridiculous little intricacies of small talk, and nowhere near ready to talk about anything deeper — especially with a man he’s only just met. The afternoon mostly passes in an easy kind of silence, with David working in the garage on a car engine he’d described as “a special pain in the ass” and Killian handling the pumps outside. The customers look at him suspiciously when he runs out to help instead of David, but that’s nothing new. He’s earned an awful lot of suspicious looks in his travels, and he knows it’s because he’s an unfamiliar face.

(Granted, the leather jacket probably doesn’t help. He knows it makes him look like he’s up to no good, but it’s warm and holds up well in the weather, and he has no intention to change that just because a few uptight townspeople look at him with narrowed eyes.)

The afternoon passes quickly in that matter, and before Killian knows it, he comes back inside the garage after serving a small rush of people to find David putting his tools back in their proper place.

“Closing time,” David comments in explanation, nodding towards the clock. Sure enough, the hands read 5:30; he should have known in a little town like this, everything would close before six. Before he can even start making plans for the evening — where he’s going to get food, where he’s going to sleep, all the little details that he’s accounted for dozens of times since he started this ride — David jerks his head towards the door in an abrupt invitation. “Come on, Mary Margaret will have dinner on the table soon.”

“I’m sorry?” It doesn’t really process. Only hours ago, David was standing over him in a threatening manner, demanding to know what he was camping on a town bench for, and now he’s… apparently inviting Killian to his home. Surely he can’t mean that.

“My wife,” David clarifies, as if that was the confusing thing. “She’s making a pot roast, maybe some pie since we’ll have company. I called her earlier to let her know you’d be joining us for dinner.” His face turns sharp again for a moment. “You are coming to dinner, right?”

“I… well, yes, I suppose I am. If you and your wife want me there, that is,” Killian manages to say, tripping over the words in his surprise.

“Good,” David nods. “You’ve got to eat, after all, and the missus would kill me if I didn’t invite you. She’s got strong opinions about a home-cooked meal. For good reason, too, it’s a damn fine pot roast. Are you coming?” The last is definitely necessary prodding, as Killian is still stuck several steps from the door trying to figure out what just happened.

Still, he follows David out, making sure to snag his bag by the door on his way. Even if he’s a bit thrown off by this turn of events, that doesn’t change the fact that he’ll be lost without his belongings for the night. “Thank you,” he murmurs as David locks up behind them. “I appreciate the invite.”

“Don’t mention it,” the other man shrugs, tucking the shop keys back into his pocket. “Like I said, my wife would kill me if I made you go scavenging on your own.”

The Nolan residence is on a quiet street maybe a ten minute walk from the garage. If Killian had thought Main Street was impressive, this is something else. Trees arch gracefully over the pavement, creating their own little world in the shade. The houses have front porches and flower beds lining the front walk. Half of them have a flag fluttering outside the front door. It looks like a cliche of American domesticity, and he hasn’t even made it off the street. 

David and his wife’s house proves to be a cheery pale blue with white trim and has flowered window boxes. Before they go inside, he crouches to take off his work boots and nods for Killian to do the same. “Can’t have us tracking grease in the door,” he explains. “No need to stain the rug if we don’t have to.”

The house inside is just the same — picture perfect yet impossibly real. He can spot lace doilies on end tables and a carved hatstand in the entry hall, and the smell of something delicious wafts through the rooms. It’s obvious, too, that this isn’t just a house — it’s a home, evident in a carefully bookmarked novel on the coffee table some sewing discarded in the corner.

The woman who comes bustling down the hall to greet them fits his impression of the space perfectly — a cliche of the loving, welcoming wife with her big smile and apron and perfectly pinned hair. David’s a lucky man to be living this life, and Killian feels a dull pang of longing for that kind of certainty, even if he doesn’t feel ready to plant roots in that way yet.

“Welcome home!” the woman all but coos, dropping a quick kiss on David’s cheek before turning her dimpled grin on Killian, extending a delicate hand to shake. “You must be Killian — David told me you were helping at the shop and I just insisted he bring you home for dinner. Granny’s is all well and good, but it’s nothing compared to a good home-cooked meal, is it?”

Despite Killian’s misgivings about the trappings of this whole idyllic life (even just watching it from afar intensifies the constant itch beneath his skin, to move, to flee, to fly), he likes Mrs. Nolan immediately. “No, it isn’t,” he concedes, cracking a small smile. He even manages to take the hand she offers, pressing a kiss to the back of it that makes the pretty brunette blush and David glower. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Nolan.”

“Oh, you must call me Mary Margaret!” she protests as David’s glare intensifies. Faced with that kind of reaction, Killian doesn’t plan to follow the lady’s command. “I just put dinner on the table, you’re just in time. Pot roast with potatoes and green beans, and a good chocolate cake for dessert. Does all of that sound good to you?”

“It sounds delicious, ma’am.”

“Good answer,” David mumbles not quite under his breath, earning himself an affectionate whack to the chest from his wife. It sends an odd pang of longing through Killian — they’re obviously well suited for each other, and Killian finds himself wanting a partner he can share that same kind of companionship with. It’s silly, though; that kind of commitment would require a kind of stability he just can’t give. It’s still lovely to watch though, as David leads them to the dining room with one callused hand just barely grazing along Mary Margaret’s back. Quickly, they both wash their hands at the kitchen sink before taking a seat at the table. 

“So David said you’ll be in town for the next week or so?” the lady of the house asks as they start to dig in.

“That’s the plan, at least. Just until the replacement tires get in,” he replies before taking a bite of potatoes. It’s been a while since Killian has had a home-cooked meal, and Mrs. Nolan’s cooking proves to be more than up to snuff. 

“Well let me tell you, there’s no better place to break down than in Storybrooke — and I’m not just saying that because I’m married to the mechanic!” she gushes with a tinkling laugh. As far as Killian can tell, she seems to do that a lot — a striking contrast to David’s more reserved demeanor. “Storybrooke is just such a nice little town — I can’t imagine living anywhere else. But I understand that you’ve been driving all over the country?”

“Let the man eat, Mary Margaret,” David chides affectionately. “He can’t get a bite in between all these questions.”

Mrs. Nolan blushes a bright pink in response, somehow managing to look delicate even in her embarrassment. “Oh! Of course, where are my manners. You don’t need to answer that, Killian. I can’t insist you come to dinner and then not let you eat!”

Killian swallows a bite of roast hurriedly in order to respond. “It’s quite alright, Mrs. Nolan,” he smiles. “Yes, I’ve been driving up and down the coast since March. I’m planning to head westward after this.”

“That must be so exciting,” she smiles. “I’m more of a homebody, myself — I can’t imagine driving all over the place for so long.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Killian agrees noncommittally.

A few minutes of relative silence pass as the three of them truly dig in, interrupted only by assurances that dinner is delicious and you know how I love your potatoes. For those minutes, Killian is almost lulled into thinking that he’s in the clear, that no more questions are coming to dredge up things he doesn’t like to think about. 

“So what about when you’re not on the road, Killian?” Mary Margaret asks in a tone of voice that’s almost suspiciously innocent. He’s sure she doesn’t mean anything nefarious; she’s just making conversation. Still, he has a bad feeling about where this is going. “Where do you call home?”

And there it is — a question to really set his nerves on edge. A question that he doesn’t really have a proper answer to. “Nowhere, at the moment. I’ve been travelling ever since I came to the country.”

���And what about your family? Are they still back in England?”

If Killian was wary of the first question, his heart drops into his stomach at the second. “No,” he barely bites out. “There’s no one back in England.” 

Maybe they hear the barely restrained pain in his voice; maybe they just grow tired of his poor excuses for conversation. Killian wouldn’t blame them; he knows that he’s less than good company, and isn’t remotely carrying his weight in their interactions. All he knows is the depth of his gratitude when conversation shifts towards more generic topics, ones David can answer, like about their day at the shop. 

Dinner is fine, and a fine excuse to make him interact with even a little bit of the world.

It’s an even greater relief when he can bid them both a good evening and leave for the night.

——— 

Despite Mrs. Nolan's best attempts to fatten him up, Killian still wanders down to Granny's that night after dinner. Perhaps it's for the tea; perhaps it's for a change of scenery; perhaps it's for the chance to see the lovely blonde waitress again.

(It's absolutely the last option, no doubt, but Killian likes to pretend he still has a little bit of his dignity sometimes. He's not a young boy mooning over a pretty girl anymore, even if he certainly is acting that way at the moment.)

The sounds and rituals of the diner are more familiar now that it's his second visit — the right of the bell above the door, the way everyone hushes for just a moment as he walks in before hurriedly continuing on in an array of conversations, Granny's nod he's sure means seat yourself. The same booth as he occupied last night is still open, and Killian slides across the vinyl once again. Sure enough, only a minute or two later, the same blonde angel as before appears to take his order. 

"Hello again," she smiles. Little lines around her eyes crinkle with the gesture; they suit her, Killian decides, making her look even more like a creature who's meant to spread and receive joy. "What can I get you tonight?"

"Just another pot of tea, please," he replies, trying to match her smile. It doesn't feel quite so natural on Killian's face — proof that he's long since out of practice in performing what's such a natural gesture on everyone else.

(Another thing he lost to the sea, along with Liam, along with his youth, along with his plans.)

"No sandwich tonight?" she continues, apparently oblivious to Killian's internal struggle. She doesn't even bat an eye at whatever twisted facsimile of a smile graces his face; maybe it looks better than he thought. 

"Not tonight, love. I already had a bit of dinner. Thank you though, miss..." he trails off in question, arching a single eyebrow to accentuate the query. 

It would be well within her right to refuse to tell him; after all, he's an odd and awkward stranger she's met all of twice. To his surprise though, she just smiles again, and offers him her name like a gift. "Emma. Emma Swan."

It suits her, he decides immediately; it's graceful and elegant and maybe just a little otherworldly, like a princess out of a fairy tale he hasn't heard before. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan," he returns. The smile feels a little easier now, though he's not ready to admit why.

The smile on her — on Emma's face turns a little wry. "And you are....?" 

It absolutely figures that he'd get so lost in the joy of knowing this angel's name that he would forget his own. "Killian — Jones," he hastens to reply, tripping over his own name in the process.

"It's nice to meet you, Killian Jones," she replies, clearly trying to cover a laugh. "I'll have that tea right out for you."

Though Emma returns with the small teapot and a cup on a saucer a few minutes later, more people have trickled into the diner for a late dinner and he's unable to engage her in conversation any further. That's alright; he'd borrowed Frankenstein from the Nolans' bookshelf for a reread, and there's no time like the present. He didn't come to Granny's just to talk to Emma, after all.

(That's what he tells himself, anyways; the truth is that something more compelling than the pie lured him back, whether or not he ever acts on it.)

Dr. Frankenstein is just as egotistical and irritating as Killian remembers, but he gets lost in that gothic world all the same, reveling in the twists and turns he half-remembers from grammar school. Before he knows it, it's 10pm again, and whether it's the tea or the story or something else entirely, Killian isn't remotely tired. It's a relief in many ways; after all, he can't dream if he doesn't sleep. Insomnia has never been a problem he's faced, for better or worse, but there are nights after a particularly intense streak of nightmares that Killian wished that the urge to close his eyes and slip into slumber wasn't quite as strong. 

Regardless, he's just starting to contemplate wandering back toward the garage and the bench he’s pretending is a bed when Emma slides into the seat across from Killian.

"You're a wanderer," she says. It's not a question, just a statement of fact. He can't say he's ever been called that before, but Killian supposes it's accurate. He can't think of a better descriptor, at least.

"Aye, I suppose you could say that," he concedes. "Better than some things I've been called," he mutters much further under his breath. 

"I've never gone further than Portland," Emma admits. Killian can already tell by the far-off look in her eyes that it's not for lack of desire; just for lack of opportunity. "I wanted to join the Red Cross during the war, but..."

"Be glad you didn't," Killian interrupts before she can finish the thought. He knows how that story ends anyways: too much to do on the homefront and too few men to do it. "No one should see what went on over there unless they had to."

"I know," Emma replies. "I don't regret it. I was needed more here. But I worry that might have been my chance to see the world."

"You'll get another chance, Swan." He doesn't know where the instinct to call her by her last name comes from; all he knows is that it feels right. 

"I hope so," she replies wistfully, before shaking herself back out of it. "But for now, tell me: what's it like?"

For a short, terrible moment, Killian worries that she meant what it was like to fight, and the flames flash in front of his eyes again. Something of it must show in his face, however, as she hurries to clarify her request. "I meant in your travels. On your bike." She sighs and runs a frustrated hand over her hair. "I've made a mess of this, haven't I?"

“It’s alright, love,” he smiles, moving to clasp her hand in reassurance before thinking better of it. “You haven’t made a mess of anything.”

“You’re just saying that,” she mumbles. “Being polite.”

“It’s the truth. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I, on the other hand… I’ve rather forgotten the question.” It’s almost flirtatious — not that he means it to be. It’s hard to imagine himself light-hearted enough to flirt nowadays, even when faced with a beautiful blonde with a smile that could light up even the darkest of nights.

There’s no point to it anyways; he’ll only be in Storybrooke for a few days, a week at the longest. 

(No matter what he says, he’s already in danger of becoming attached to this girl, his angel.)

“What’s it like out there?” Emma repeats. Curiosity and excitement twinkle in her eyes and she leans against the table with crossed arms, like she’ll hang onto every word. He thinks she truly will, too; he only hopes that the words he has to say won’t disappoint her. She doesn’t deserve that.

“It’s… big,” he says, knowing full well that the description is horribly inadequate, even if it’s true. “Vast. I grew up thinking that Britain was so large, or Europe, but neither come anywhere close to your country. All the things you can see… it’s a marvel.”

“So where have you been?” Emma asks. “Or is it easier to ask where haven’t you been?”

Killian blushes a bit at that, though he can’t quite figure out why; maybe the implication that he’s worldly, or some kind of expert. “I’ve been up and down the East Coast,” he tells her. “Started in March and rode all the way down to Florida while the heat could still feel good. And now, obviously, have worked my way back up.”

“You must have gone to the beach down there, right?” She doesn’t even wait for an answer before plowing forward. “Is it different from the ocean here? I can’t imagine anyone making that trip and not going to see the ocean.”

Maybe for other people, that’s true; it seems like the kind of cliche vacation road trip residents of a picture-perfect town might take. Killian still remembers, though, how his life almost ended in this same ocean, thousands of miles away — still remembers being tossed by the waves and scrambling to keep himself above water and the way that the cold of the Atlantic cut into his flesh. He still remembers the panic and the desperate realization that if he didn’t fight like hell, he’d be swallowed by the turbulent waters and never resurface.

Most people love the ocean; Killian no longer counts himself among them.

“It is different,” he finally says. “The shore isn’t so pebbled as it is here. There’s just sand, everywhere, even where you’d expect there to be proper soil instead. It makes the water look different, too — it moves the same, but the colors are different. It’s the dark sand and rocks that turn the water so dark, here. On the Gulf, everything is blue instead.”

“It sounds beautiful,” she sighs. “I’m going to go someday, somehow. I swear it.”

“I’m sure you will.” It’s not placating, or at least he doesn’t intend it to be; something about Emma makes him believe, even so soon into their acquaintance, that she can and will do anything she sets her mind to. If she wants to see the world, she’ll find a way.

“You really think so?” she asks, a mix of hope and uncertainty creeping into her voice. 

“Of course. I think you can do anything you want to — especially a lady as bold as yourself.”

“Thanks.” She smiles at the reassurance; he likes this look on her a lot better. He likes it even more when the smile turns into a self-deprecating laugh. “That’s enough about me, though. Tell me more about where you’ve been.”

“There’s not much to tell,” he admits. “It’s been a lot of back roads and landscapes and little tiny towns, and not a lot of sightseeing.”

“What’s been your favorite part, then?”

“The speed,” he admits readily. There’s no thought even required. She most likely wanted to hear about a particularly memorable town or something like that, but the truth is, he’s been more interested in the ride itself than anywhere he might be going, as cliche as that is. “Out there, with an open stretch of road… it feels like flying. It’s exhilarating. There’s almost nothing like it.” Of course, it’s a shameless attempt to recreate the feeling of soaring across the skies in the Jolly, but Emma doesn’t need to know that. Discussions of how he’s desperately trying to reclaim the feeling of the last time it felt like he had a purpose aren’t exactly suitable conversation when you’ve barely learned a girl’s name. 

“Maybe you’ll have to show me before you leave,” she suggests with a coy little smile. Truth be told, Killian isn’t sure how to respond to that; it’s hard to believe a woman like her would be interested in spending any time with him, and it’s far too presumptuous to believe she’s flirting with him. She must just be expressing an odd kind of kindness, just expressing interest in the things he likes for politeness’ sake. That’s a thing people do, he thinks; he’s far too out of practice with having to interact with strangers. 

(After all, this is just temporary. He’s only here until his bike is fixed — a few days, a week at the longest.)

(That doesn’t stop a little part of him from wishing that she really did mean it.)

“Where else do you want to see? Besides the Florida coast,” he blurts out, looking for a way to sidestep… whatever just happened. It’s hard to know how to respond to what she just said, even if he is eager to otherwise continue their conversation. She’s good company, he finds, and doesn’t act with that cloying kind of politeness he’s used to from so many other people and never knows how to respond to. She’s… genuine. Genuinely kind, and genuinely curious. 

“Oh, everywhere,” she sighs. “The Grand Canyon, the Four Corners — I want to stand in four states at once, and don’t even try to tell me how ridiculous that is — the Alamo, Niagara Falls… all of it.” She blushes fetchingly at the end of her list. “I know it’s a lot, but we had a very comprehensive geography book in the library when I was in school. It really captured my imagination, I suppose you’d say.”

“I don’t think it’s — well, it is a lot, really,” he chuckles, “but that’s not a bad thing. I wouldn’t say it’s excessive. I’m the one driving across the country without anything resembling a plan.” This time, his chuckle is self-deprecating, almost bitter.

“Ah, but it’s not without purpose, is it?” she says with a wry smile and a knowing tone. “Not having a plan isn’t the same thing as not having a reason.”

It’s terrifying, in a certain way, the way she can read him so easily. Those are things he’s not prepared to discuss with her, not tonight and possibly not ever. 

“It’s not,” he says shortly, “but that’s not a matter for discussion tonight.”

“No, I guess it isn’t.” If he were a more optimistic man, he might almost say she looks sad that their conversation is ending. “I’ll let you get back to your book, then. Would you like a fresh pot of tea?”

Don’t go, he thinks. “That would be wonderful, thank you,” his mouth says — some stupid brain-heart miscommunication. 

“I’ll get that right out to you.” Carefully she slides out of the booth, smoothing her skirt as she goes. Killian is helpless but to follow her with his eyes all the way back to the kitchen. The loveliest woman he’s met in a long, long time, possibly ever, and he’s mucked it all up.

Ah, well, it’s not like it matters anyways. His stay was always meant to be temporary, after all, when he’s only here for as long as it takes for his new tire to get here. There’s no sense in forming attachments.

(It may already be too late for that, but he’s willing to ignore it until he can’t any longer.)

~~~~~

Tagging: @kmomof4​​, @aerica13​​, @thisonesatellite​​, @searchingwardrobes​​, @let-it-raines​​, @teamhook​​, @ohmightydevviepuu​​, @optomisticgirl​​, @winterbaby89​​, @spartanguard​​, @scientificapricot​, @snowbellewells​​, @welllpthisishappening​​, @tiganasummertree​​, @captainswanbigbang​​, @snidgetsafan​​, @thejollyroger-writer​​, @profdanglaisstuff​​

Thanks for reading - let me know what you think!

[herbalsingularitea]

Jolly Boy (Chapter 2)

Summary - Bernard’s voice was ice. “And we’re quite aware of the climate change issue, thanks. We’re working on it.”

“You’re working on it? Okay, great, nothing to worry about then since Saint Bernard and his 200 year old research team is working on the whole ‘climate change issue’. And when can we expect a solution, chief?”

Pairing - Bernard x Male OC

Word Count - 5092

Looking for Chapter 1? Check the Holly Jolly Masterpost pinned on my blog.

Chapter 2 - Chestnuts Roasting

(December 26th, afternoon) 

The human had been set up for about a week now, apparently—the week leading up to Christmas. It was horrible timing, really. Usually humans wouldn’t be able to get this close without some strategic deterrents sent their way to make them want to turn back themselves. Faced with a dangerous storm, a hungry polar bear, or a sudden crack in the sea ice, they’re much more likely to give up and leave. If they thought exploring the arctic wasn’t worth it on their own then that tends to be more effective than if someone tries to convince them there's nothing to see here, curious stubborn creatures that they are. 

Bernard typed out a message to the Elfcon team on his watch asking about this obvious oversight. How had this human slipped through? 

According to the team, the man’s arrival was noted as he first made camp about 20 miles away and a snowstorm was sent to make conditions uncomfortable enough that he’d leave on his own. The report had been sent to Bernard’s office and he’d signed off on it himself. He could vaguely remember something about that, but he had been busy directing the Core teams on the final stretch to Christmas. An elf scout had been sent out to check on the human during the storm; they didn’t want to accidentally freeze him to death after all. But while his tent and supplies were still there, he and his snowmobile were nowhere to be found. With Christmas on the horizon and no reliable way to confirm his departure with radar once the storm started, the elves assumed the human had left. Not so, apparently. 

He was approximately two miles east of Bernard and the reindeer and over a small ridge of icy cliffs, less than 10 miles away from the entrance to Santa’s Village. The thought of some human stumbling onto their little secret was enough to make Bernard break out into a sweat. His head throbbed as he looked at the 8 uncertain reindeer out in the open. They weren’t quite as far out from the Village as they’d normally want to go, but the cliffs blocked the human from seeing them here. He hopped off Dancer and told them all that this year they’d have to keep it confined to the small stretch from here to the Village and a southern flat patch that was around 8 miles total. Not nearly as good as they deserved, but this was a delicate situation here. Bernard placed a small tracker on Dancer’s antler and told her to keep close to the other deer so he could find them all if they needed a quick getaway. She nuzzled his face in response and he gave her a pat before heading out on his own towards the cliffs. If this human wouldn’t leave by conventional means, then he’d have to get confrontational about it. An elf’s gotta do what an elf’s gotta do, afterall. 

Jolly was freezing his ass off here. His pop up tent wasn’t as warm as his main tent at home camp, but luckily he’d found a little divot in the ice cliff that he’d stumbled upon in the storm. It was enough to cut the wind at least and offer enough shelter to help his thin little travel tent keep his body heat trapped. He was glad he had the thought to bring his backpack when he saw the storm coming and took off on his snowmobile to find XJ-17’s trail. There were plenty of warm layers, rations, fire starters, and flares. He wasn’t worried about freezing to death, but it certainly was an inconvenience. He had a nice cozy set up at his home camp, which was… somewhere. That was kind of his current problem. When he saw the storm starting, he was so worried it would cover the polar bear tracks he’d found his first day on site. He didn’t even get to properly determine which direction the bear was traveling before snow started falling. He thought if he just rushed out to the last place he saw prints, he could get an idea of where to start when the storm blew over. Alas, the way to hell is paved, yadda yadda.

He got lost almost immediately. 

None of his radar equipment worked in the storm and surprise, surprise: the one thing he did not have in his backpack? A compass. So onward he’d traveled, practically blind in the storm, looking for something, anything he could use to find his way. When he hit the cliffs he knew he’d definitely not gone the right way and decided to hunker down and wait out the weather. It had been a solid week, if his watch was working correctly, before the storm had finally broken. 

Sitting around in a tent shivering doesn’t seem too strenuous, but he was still exhausted. He couldn’t wait to start heading back to his comfortable little set up. 

He looked out at the frozen land before him. The cliffs ran a good way into the distance. Across the flat ice, he saw a break in the cliffs that he recognized. Directly east from that break was his home camp. And between him and the camp was the towering jagged ice mountain he’d admired his first day in the arctic. He must have gone around it in his blind panic to find the tracks. But at least he knew how to get back! Step one, down. Those stodgy old professors who said he wouldn’t make it out here on his own could suck it. He was absolutely killing it right now. 

Jolly turned back towards his humble little temp camp and had to do a double take as he saw a dark figure standing on top of the cliffs above his camp. He choked on a yell as he saw the figure jump from one ledge of the cliffs down to another. That was at least a 15 foot drop! 

He felt his breathing speed up as the figure smoothly hopped down two more cliffs with no problems, bringing them just one 30 foot drop away from him and his tent. 

He could see them more clearly now. It was definitely a person, they looked small and wore a cloak and hood so it was impossible to make out their features except for two dark eyes peeking over the edge of a crimson scarf. Despite their acrobatics, they didn’t look particularly threatening. Still, a weapon could go a long way and there was nobody to call for help out. He made the decision to play it cool here in the hopes it would at least give him a better idea of the person’s intentions. 

“Hi there! That’s some fancy jumping.”

The figure kept their gaze locked on his in silence for a long moment before they suddenly jumped the remaining 30 feet, tucking into a roll before popping up onto their feet again in a practiced fluid motion. 

Jolly took several steps back at that, keeping a good distance between them should this strange person try to attack. His body was tense, but he purposely kept his voice light as he exclaimed, “Wow! Very impressive!”

They stood in silence, locked in an uneasy staring contest. Jolly took the opportunity to get a better look at the newcomer. Their green cloak looked thick and warm, fur lining the hood and bottom which brushed at the stranger’s knees. Golden tassels attached to the cloak hung down from under a red scarf with golden accents. Long leather boots that also looked fur lined covered what wasn’t hidden by the cloak. Their face was partially covered by the scarf and hood, but Jolly could clearly see those sparkling dark eyes, unflinching in their intensity. 

“Didn’t think I’d meet a LARPer all the way up here in the arctic circle.”

“What?” The stranger’s voice was deep, gruff, but with a pleasant tenor that reached his ears over the ambient sounds of wind rushing over the snow drifts, sending a pleasant tingle up his spine. What a strangely musical voice. 

“Your clothes? You look like an extra out of Lord of the Rings. Or, considering where we are, maybe one of Santa’s little helpers,” he chuckled. 

The stranger lifted their arms, revealing a leather gloved hand from underneath their cloak, and tugged self consciously at their hood. Jolly caught a glimpse of a golden inscription stitched down the side of the green cloak, but he didn’t recognize any of the characters. 

“I’m Jolly, by the way.” He looked expectantly at the stiff figure standing between him and his camp. 

“I’m Bernard. Nice to meet you and all, but you need to leave.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that, Bernard?” he said slightly insulted by the stranger’s brusque tone. 

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“I am, actually. I’m with the Hale Company. I’ve been assigned to track a missing polar bear and her new cub for the research division.”

“Your presence will upset the polar bears, you should leave before they eat you.”

This guy was really starting to piss him off. “Listen, buddy—“

“Bernard.”

“—Saint Bernard, more like. If you’re so worried about the bears, then fine,” he growled, marching past him to reach his supplies and rustling around in his backpack before pulling out a folder of laminated pages. He handed Bernard the top piece with a smug look. “See? I’m official. The Hale Company has been tracking these bears for over 20 years, so I’m pretty sure what I’m doing is perfectly fine.” 

Bernard scanned the document before him, an annoyed edge crinkling the space between his brows. In a barely audible grumble he said, “Twenty years? That’s nothing. We’ve been keeping track for over 200.” 

“Wait, what? Are you with a research team too?”

Bernard started at his words, his eyes widening briefly before returning to a neutral glare. “The Hale Company. Yeah, I’m familiar with it.” His words were rushed. “Fine, but you aren’t supposed to be this far out.” 

“We follow the bears, Saint Bernard. Our bear, XJ-17, has taken her cub to the mountains just northwest of here, we think.”

“You must mean Catherine, she’s the only one with a cub right now. She's a sweet bear.”

“If that’s what your team is calling her, then sure.” 

A sweet polar bear? Jolly doubted that. 

Bernard ducked his head, seeming conflicted for a moment, before straightening up with squared shoulders. “You’re gonna freeze out here, y’know. Your little campsite here is pathetic.” 

He bristled at the stranger’s rude tone. “Excuse me? I’ve trained for years for this assignment. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And this isn’t my main camp, it’s a temp. I got caught out in the storm. I’ll be returning to my home camp just as soon as I can.” He turned and pointed at the distant break in the ice ridge. “See that opening? If I head that way, my camp is a straight shot east from there.”

Once again, a worried look shadowed Bernard’s eyes. 

“You can’t go that way.”

“I have to! I’m not gonna climb the mountain, that’s crazy. I’ll just ride around it. In fact, I should probably get going soon. The storm may have broken for now, but who knows when another will hit.” 

“No!” Bernard eyed the man’s snowmobile and the dying embers of the fire, his brows pulled tight. “Uh, I mean, shouldn’t you rest a bit first? You seem tired.”

Jolly had planned to rest some before returning actually, but he was eager to escape the rude pushy stranger who had appeared from seemingly nowhere. 

“Where did you come from anyways? How did you get up on those cliffs?” 

“Got anything to eat?” 

Jolly was briefly thrown by his sudden inquiry. “Um, yeah, I have some rations. Why? You want something?” he felt a sinking feeling of guilt as he put the pieces together. This guy was slim and short, that much was obvious even with the thick cloak. And his voice sounded pretty young. He probably had gotten turned around in the storm himself and was far from whatever research camp he came from. Bernard couldn’t be younger than 18, there's no way any team would bring a kid up here with them, even for practical education. But maybe he was an advanced uni student? There were certainly other research teams who had less than ethical requirements. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, he supposed. So odds were that he was just a few years younger than Jolly himself. Poor guy was putting on a brave face, but the stress he was under was apparent. He was probably hungry and cold and scared. 

Jolly’s remaining anger melted away in an instant and he suddenly felt responsible for this young stranger. “Hey, listen. I’m sorry, okay? How about we get you something to eat and then we can find out where you come from.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Food, I mean. Thanks.”

“Of course! Have a seat. I’m out of firewood, I’m afraid, so we’ll need to eat quick and be on our way.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem. I have wood.”

“Wha—you do? Where?”

Bernard shuffled a bit under his cloak and revealed a brown leather bag slung low at his right hip. It wasn’t very big and Jolly started to protest, they’d need wood bigger than whatever he had in there. But his words died on his lips as the slight man pulled several good sized cut logs from inside the bag. Jolly blinked, and the cloak was back in place, covering the bag once again.

…he must have misjudged how big that bag was. He couldn’t believe this guy had been hauling around all that wood. His shoulders are probably killing him right now. 

They settled down around his rekindled fire, now cackling steadily as if laughing at Jolly’s disgruntled appreciation. Of course Bernard’s an expert at making cozy fires. This kid was unnaturally good at everything, it seemed. Typical young genius. Jolly’d had to work his ass off the past 8 years in university to get here, and he still had some trouble making a fire by hand. But this guy got one going in less than a minute. 

He watched as Bernard poked the base of the flames, the flickering light reflected in those dark eyes. His eyes were quite distinct, now that Jolly could look without being pinned in their intimidating glare. Big and brown, deep set but with a sharp edge that kept the researcher on his toes and made him feel uncomfortably seen. Bernard’s lashes were thick and stark against the tops of his cheeks as he concentrated on his task. As Jolly watched, a small snowflake stuck itself to the edge of his lashes. 

“So do you know where ‘Catherine’s’ trail picks up? You seem to know an awful lot about polar bears.” 

He blurted out to distract himself from that little snowflake and the added sparkle it gave the mysterious man’s eyes. 

“As a matter of fact, I do. Not that it’s any business of yours. She's got a cub to care for now, she doesn’t need some boy intruding on her privacy.”

He made note that Bernard, once again, talks about the bear like she’s a sentient person. And talks about Jolly like he’s five years old. So maybe this guy wasn’t a teenager then. But he can’t be much older than, what, mid twenties at the oldest? Jolly’s age maybe, but definitely not older. Bernard was short, and the few features that were visible looked incredibly youthful, but the way he carried himself was more deliberate, not at all marked with the usual teen awkwardness. 

The strange man was setting up some sort of bracket.  Or maybe a rack? His hands were steady as he used a metal tool to dig a narrow hole through the ice and placed polished wooden sticks in them. That bag of his had all sorts of things stored, apparently. He fastened the poles with a complicated looking tie and knot and moved to adjust the whole thing so it was above the fire. 

“That’s why I need to find her! Her cub needs to be registered with our research division. We don’t know how old it is or if it’s healthy. We haven’t even been able to confirm if it’s a male or female.”

“She’s a girl. Her name is Crystal.”

“Okay…Your team sure has some weird naming conventions. But look, I can’t just—”

Jolly abruptly cut himself off when he noticed Bernard was removing layers and hanging them over the rack he’d built over the fire. He’d removed his heavy cloak and hood and placed it at the right end of the rack, carefully arranging it so that it wasn’t drooping too far into the flames. Next he unwound his scarf and hung it beside the cloak. For the first time, Jolly was able to get a good look at the tenacious man who had harassed him doggedly the past 2 hours. 

Underneath his hood he wore a green beret, decorated with a small medal and ribbon that seemed like real gold, at least it looked that way in the fire light. He pulled it lower on his head and fiddled with its arrangement for a minute, trying to get it to cover his ears. Which made sense. If he didn’t have any muffs on him then it would be a bit cold to have exposed ears, even by the fireside. His hair, a shaggy cut of bouncy dark curls, was constantly in motion as he expertly pulled at the fingers of his leather gloves, his intention obviously to place those on the rack next. His figure was clearer now, and Jolly’s confusion grew as he took in Bernard’s slim body shape. He wore a tunic with intricately decorated stripes of gold and silver threaded down his torso and cut off part way down by an ostentatious leather belt. Around his neck hung a wide gold necklace with what appeared to be bells dangling down from it. The whole thing looked almost like a costume but the obvious care put into the craftsmanship of it spoke to it being a genuine outfit. What an odd ensemble for an arctic trek. Despite his strange attire, he was proportional like a man, no gangly limbs here.

But his face was so youthful. Or was it? 

His jaw was cut and square, his nose long and proud, but something about his face as a whole didn’t look quite right. His cheeks were so smooth, like he’d never needed to shave a day in his life. They were rosy and plump and Jolly swore as the fire flickered across the man’s face, he saw stars light up on the tops of Bernard’s cheeks. Strange, but not off putting. There was something unusual about how all of his features came together though. Something otherworldly and ethereal. Jolly brushed it off and decided Bernard was just handsome in a unique way, which he definitely was. The warm fire and beautiful snow must just be tricking his imagination into making things seem more mystical than they actually were. 

Bernard placed his gloves on the rack and pushed them over to make more room. In a brief panic, Jolly wondered what else he could possibly be planning to remove next when those sharp eyes flickered up to his, the silence stretching a touch too long. He realized then that the strange man was leaving room for Jolly’s own clothes to also hang and scrambled to remove his coat as he continued his argument. 

“—I—I can’t just take your word for it. I don’t know who you are or what team you’re with, but if you won’t identify yourself then whatever you claim about XJ—sorry, Catherine—can’t be properly recorded.” 

“What does it even matter, I mean, why do you care so much if Crystal is recorded? It’s not necessary, she doesn’t need to be in your records.”

“She does, actually. In case you haven’t noticed, the sea ice is melting at an alarming rate. We need to keep track of every polar bear we can, especially now that their natural habitat is disappearing. Any researcher worth their salt knows that, Saint Bernard.” He bit out the last sentence with some frustration. “What research team did you say you were with again? Russian?” 

“I didn’t.” Bernard’s voice was ice. “And we’re quite aware of the climate change issue, thanks. We’re working on it.”

“You’re working on it? Okay, great, nothing to worry about then since Saint Bernard and his 200 year old research team is working on the whole ‘climate change issue’. And when can we expect a solution, chief?” 

“Look, I don’t mean to minimize your work. I’m sure what you’re doing is very helpful—“

“It is, actually. These bears deserve life. Every life on this planet is precious, Bernard, even one’s out here in the remotest place on earth. I don’t know what your teams’ goal is here, but ours—mine—is to preserve habitats for the best life possible for wild animals. Polar bears are struggling and we need to help them. We can’t do that if we don’t know where they are.”

The man sat across from Jolly seemed at a loss for words for a moment, staring him down with an unreadable expression. His cheeks twinkled as one side of his mouth quirked into the first smile Jolly had seen from him so far. 

Jolly’s stomach flipped at the sight of it, but his determined face remained steadfast. He believed in this with all his heart, and he wasn’t about to give up on his life’s mission just because some handsome stranger from a rival team wanted to scare him off. 

“Fine.”

He broke out of his impassioned thoughts at Bernard’s even tone. 

“Huh?”

“I said ‘fine’. I get it. You want to record Crystal, then okay. The polar bears are traveling further and further outside their normal territory, I should have seen this coming, really. But the area they’re in now falls under our jurisdiction. The Morozko Company has precedent here, that’s our registered name by the way, since you keep asking, Morozko.”

He spoke with sure authority and Jolly realized he must have seriously misjudged this guy to think he was a junior researcher. Bernard definitely seemed like he was in some position of power. 

He’d been warned about the mysterious Morozko Company. No one knew what nation they were affiliated with or where they got their funding. They were a strictly by the book company and had been heading the field on arctic research for the better part of a century. Very prestigious and very exclusive. Jolly suddenly felt a bit out of his depth here dealing with someone who was probably leagues ahead of him in knowledge and experience. 

“Oh, uh, sorry I didn’t know you were Morozko.” He took the opportunity to pry a bit about the legendary team that put fear into the hearts of any unethical arctic explorers. “So are you guys Russian based?”

“Sure. Now listen, I’ll let you track Catherine for as long as you need, but you have to keep to the areas I tell you, okay? The ecosystem here is more delicate than you know.”

Jolly’s breath escaped him in a sudden rush. “Oh, wow, thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me. And yes, of course, I’ll keep to the approved areas. I’m not a complete amateur, y’know, I’m very aware of how fragile things are up here. I’ll gladly follow your lead.”

“Great, I’m glad we understand each other.” 

They chatted here and there as he retrieved and prepared a couple of field rations. Bernard’s face was conspicuously blank as they ate and Jolly wondered what sort of researcher that had the authority to allow him into another team’s territory wouldn’t be long used to eating the dry tasteless field rations that came standard on this sort of expedition. Morozko probably had special high-end rations or something. 

Bernard certainly was an odd little fellow. But after breaking the ice earlier, so to speak, he actually made quite good company. He was quick witted and funny and certainly knew his stuff. He gave a quick run down of the trails for quite a few bears that had gone off Jolly’s radar months back, including Catherine, drawing everything out on a map for him to reference later. Bernard marked places where cameras could potentially be set up to keep track of the bears, and he also marked quite a few places off limits, saying the bears didn’t come close to those areas anyways and that his team was in the middle of conducting some very temperamental observation research there. Jolly promised not to interfere, after all, he was here for the bears. Nothing more. 

Bernard insisted they get a few hours of sleep before heading out to their respective camps. Jolly just yawned in reply, too tired to argue. 

The already light snow stopped falling altogether as they settled into sleeping bags around the fire, Jolly’s tent was too small for them both and he was still a bit wary of leaving his supplies out here with a stranger. Luckily he had an extra sleeping bag in his snowmobile and the temperature wasn’t too frigid for sleeping with no shelter. 

“So Bernard, got a last name?”

“It’s Evergreen. Bernard Evergreen.”

“You really take this LARPing thing seriously, don’t you? No, I mean for real.”

“It is for real. That’s actually my name.”

Jolly blinked at him in mild surprise. 

“Wow, that’s cool then! Sounds kind of like an elf name.”

“Uh, yeah. So what about you?”

“Oh! Right. I’m called Jolly but it’s just a nickname. My parents said I was always laughing as a baby, so the name just kind of stuck after awhile.”

“You do have a distinct laugh. And Jolly is a great name! Very festive.” He nodded with a slight smirk. “I approve.”

The human rolled his eyes a bit, a smile stretching over his reddening cheeks at the light teasing. “Easy for you to say, you don’t have to live with it. Jolly’s fine for a baby, but it’s a little strange for a grown man. I’ve tried going by my real name, though, and it just doesn’t sound like me.”

“So what’s your real name?”

Jolly told him with a wince. 

Bernard chuckled at his exaggerated expression. 

“Okay, I see what you mean! Jolly fits you better, for sure. Still, names are important. I’ll be sure to remember yours.”

Well that sounded ominous. 

“That sounds ominous, you aren’t secretly a fae are you?” he said with a comically dramatic squint of his eyes. “You are dressed kind of strange, y’know. Maybe you really are one of Santa’s elves come to keep me from discovering his workshop!” he laughed at Bernard’s deadpan expression. 

“Funny. Is that a dig at my height?”

“Well, now that you mention it—“

“Shut it, Jolly Boy.” 

He burst into laughter at the dry remark, and Bernard joined in with his own infectious laughter, ringing like bells as musical as his speaking voice. Jolly felt like he could almost make out a melody in the lovely sounds that came from the man across the fire. It gave him a warm happy feeling that prolonged the fit of laughter they’d descended into for several minutes, one of them cracking up again and pulling the other back into mirth a few more times before they settled into a comfortable silence. 

Jolly’s eyes started to droop as he snuggled deeper into his sleeping bag. It had been a very long day. A long week, in fact. He couldn’t wait to get back to his home camp and relax a bit. He could hear the hot water bottle in the bottom of his trunk calling his name. 

“Sleep well, Bernard.”

He couldn’t see his new acquaintance clearly anymore hunkered down as he was, but the quiet voice that answered back had a comforting tone to it as it traveled over the crackling fire. 

“You too, Jolly.” 

Bernard watched the human’s chest slow to a steady rhythm, waiting for him to fall into a deeper sleep. The man was… tolerable. Good company, he had to admit. It was nice to speak to someone who wasn’t intimidated by his position. Curtis never treated him as an authority figure, but he didn’t treat him much like a friend either. More like an older brother he begrudgingly had to admit was in charge while mom and dad were away. And Judy was sweet and professional, she and Bernard had known each other for the better part of millennia. But they just didn’t have the same kind of humor and didn’t often talk about things outside of work. In a lot of ways he appreciated them both for the interaction he got with them. They were the only elves even close to his station of importance. They understood the pressure. But Jolly was pleasant and smart and volleyed his comments right back at him with his own spin. He was interesting. Bernard found himself regretting having to leave so soon. He wouldn’t have minded another couple hours of chatting. But humans needed their rest, and the reindeer needed to be brought back to the village before Jolly started his trek back to camp. If he had left for the break in the cliffs right then, the human could have gotten an eyeful of flying reindeer. This whole situation was too close a call for Bernard’s comfort. 

The elf pulled himself from the sleeping bag he’d generously been provided and quickly dressed himself back into his warmer outside cloak and scarf. He grabbed a pen from his supply bag and wrote a quick note explaining his absence for when Jolly woke up and started tugging his gloves back onto his hands. He watched the human’s peaceful face as he did, and found himself admiring the shine of starlight on his hair. It looked quite soft and pleasant to touch if he had felt so inclined. Which of course, he didn’t. That would be creepy. 

Jolly’s lips were pouted in sleep. ‘Cute.’ He thought to himself. 

He was a nice human, all things considered. Respectful and willing to play by the rules. Bernard could work with that. 

[ratedhaikyuu]

hi im sorry if ive been ia for the past 2 days, ill make it up starting tmrw! for now please enjoy this kuroken fic i made weeks ago

☆ Day One ☆

— Kuroo & Kenma

Nothing gets Kenma's attention. He either gives the idea a single nod, showing the least interest or too busy on his video games to give a second thought about it.

So when he sees a strange looking child inside the room Nekoma stayed in during the Tokyo training camp, he was intrigued. Only a little though. Dinner was over and some were taking a bath whilst others, like Kuroo, were still practicing. Still he does nothing about the child. She might be a relative of someone in the team and she was asked to stay here.

Kenma moves closer to his bag, avoiding the little girl's eyes. He sat down and tried to play some video games, not giving the little girl behind him another glance. Yet, much like Kenma, the little girl was intrigued about the game he was playing. She moved closer to him, her chest just a few inches away from Kenma's back.

“What are you playing, Dad?,” She asked, her voice above a whisper. Kenma swore he never moved so fast in his life. He looked at the girl behind her. Did this girl really call Kenma her dad? He could not have possibly knocked someone up.

How could that even happen? That's not possible, right? Maybe this girl is just joking around, so Kenma tried to play it off.

Kenma laughed. “Do you call everyone that?”

“No. Only you. Well, sometimes I call Papa that but that was before.”

Dad? Papa? What was this girl talking about? Kenma was about to ask the little girl another question when Yaku entered the room, followed by a whining Lev. The little girl turned around and gasped, obviously delighted to see the two.

“Yaku-san, can't you just give me a break?”

“What do you mean a break? You don't deserve a break. You know what you deserve? A kick in the ba-

“Uncle Lev!” The little girl ran towards Lev with open arms. Naturally, Lev would smile and accept the girl's embrace as she is the cutest little girl he has ever seen. In this case however, he was being yelled at by a 165cm libero in front of him.

“Didn't know you had a younger sibling, Kenma,” Yaku says as he looks at the girl, noticing the exact same cat keychain of Kenma on the little girl's wrist as a bracelet. How cute.

“They're not.”

“He's my dad. I'm Hoshiko! I'm from the future and was just playing around the house like I always do, but I got so curious, dad! And so I accidentally got into one of your time travelling pods. Sorry,” the little girl faced Kenma as she apologized. He didn't know what to react, and so did the other two young adults in the room with him.

“You're from the future?! What?! That's so cool! What's it like by then? Am I married to the love of my life? Who is it? Oh my God, I have so many questions!”

Lev bombarded the girl with such questions whilst poor Kenma and Yaku are sitting still as a statue in their place as they were minutes ago.

“Wait, how do we know that you really are from the future?” Yaku asked, hesitant to believe someone like Kenma could have a daughter. No offense, he adores the guy. He really does, but just the thought of it seemed irrational at the time.

“I can't really say, uncle Yaku. Time traveling can be quite the pickle if you know too much,” Hoshiko replied, looking down at her feet. “But I can probably show you proof that something will happen! So I guess it's okay.”

“Oi, Yamamoto. When will you ever shut up about not having a manager?” Hashiko was startled for the sudden outburst and quite disappointed that she couldn't share it to Kenma, but came to relax when she saw him.

“Papa!”

Yamamoto freaked when a child suddenly called out papa, but instantly relaxed when she came for Kuroo, letting out a breath of relief. All of a sudden, he screams out of nowhere.

“KUROO, YOU KNOCKED SOMEONE UP?”

“Oi. Shut up.” Kuroo calmly spit back, covering the poor girl's ears for hearing such a language at a young age. Deep inside, he's sweating all nervously. He couldn't have possibly knocked someone up, right? How could he when his heart already belonged to someone else.

He looked down at the little girl hugging his torso. Kuroo sweats ever more when he kneels in front of her to look at her eyes. Then her cheeks. She reminded him of a pudding.

She looked a lot like Kenma.

“She says she's from the future. She also says you're her parents.”

“Parents?”

“You and Kenma.”

“Mhm. Hoshiko picked this date cause you used to tell me how you confessed to dad. That was tonight. In this very room.”

Tension in the room could not be any more thicker than this. Hoshiko was her name? Named after a star. Kuroo looked at her, she seemed to be holding something. He smiled at her, gently taking the object and looked at what it was. It was a locket. He opened it to reveal a picture of him and Kenma.

“It was your wedding day.”

Kuroo couldn't breathe. The room was suffocating him. He had enough trouble gathering up the courage to finally confess to Kenma tonight, but what's happening before him was too much to handle. His chest started to tighten, he couldn't speak. Kuroo got up hastily, leaving the room.

“Oi, Kuroo!”

“Papa!” Hashiko started to run after him, but failed as she got down. She couldn't get up. She wanted to chase after her papa. Hashiko began to cry as her legs were fading?

“Hashiko, what's wrong?”

“I said too much. Now everything's ruined.” When Hashiko told Kuroo about the wedding between him and Kenma, it set off something inside him. Something he never felt in a long time.

Kuroo was supposed to confess to Kenma tonight. Now, Kuroo can't handle the thought of Kenma knowing before he even had the chance to say it first. And because of that, there might not even be a wedding between Kuroo and Kenma. Then Hashiko wouldn't even exist as their child.

And Kenma knew that.

Kenma has played a lot of video games to know enough about time traveling. The instant Hashiko made contact with one of her dads, something will obviously change. Their very future will change. It will be different. Kenma and Kuroo might not get together in the end. Hashiko wouldn't even exist.

Hashiko sobbed. “I'm sorry, dad,” she looked at Kenma with tears falling down her cheeks.

Kenma knew what he had to do.

He moved closer to her little girl and hugged her for the first time since their encounter. It was an action Kenma definitely wasn't used to, but it was an instinctive thing to do in the situation.

He pulled away and kissed her forehead, "Wait here with Lev and Yaku."

Kenma got out of the room, looking for a certain rooster head captain. He had run out minutes ago so he wouldn't have gone far. Kenma looked left and right, just to find out he was sitting on the stairs.

When Kuroo felt his friend's presence, he didn't dare to look. He buried his face in between his knees and let out a frustrated grunt. He can't believe he was outed by a child. Their child. In any other situation, Kuroo would have laughed it off. Or simply just accept it and confess right then and there. He wasn't known to back out in any situation. That's why he was the captain of the school's volleyball team.

Then why did he act this way?

“Was it true? What Hashiko said, that you were going to confess?”

Kuroo couldn't face him. He can, but he'd rather not. Kuroo isn't himself right now. Kuroo's in love, after all.

All he could do was nod his head as a response. He could feel his cheeks burning. Who would have thought that Kuroo would ever be embarrassed about something.

“Why?”

Kuroo couldn't help but look up at the guy in disbelief. Did this guy really asked him why he caught feelings? Did this guy he loved for so many years and have shown it through so many actions just asked why he did so?

“Are you fucking kidding me? Kenma, even I don't know why! Ever since day 1, we've always been together. You're always there by my side, through and through. And I was always by your side. Isn't that enough?”

Kenma sat beside him in silence. He looked at Kuroo, realizing that he was right. They were present all throughout the journey. Their journey.

“Every volleyball tournament, you were cheering me on. Every game you bought, I was beside you buying the damn thing. Every single fucking day, we were both together. And because of that, I can't live without you. But now that I know you don't feel the same, I guess I just have to accept it.”

It was just a millisecond and a small touch of their lips yet Kuroo felt everything in his life gained more color.

Kenma pulled away, his lips still lingering on Kuroo's lips, “I like you too.”

Kuroo and Kenma continued to talk, especially about their relationship. Throughout the night, the stars shined the brightest. As they gazed upon them, it reminded them of Hashiko. And thanked the Heavens for she was there during their day one of being a couple and she will certainly be there for their last.

[mdelpin]

In Search of a Dream - Chapter 2

Slayers Week 2020 Prompt: Magic / Adventure Pairing: Gray x Natsu AO3 | Prev: Ch 1

Like many others, I’m not a huge fan of the Daphne arc, so I figured while I was messing with canon (yes, I know it’s anime only), I might as well change this up a bit.

Summary: Gray goes off in search of Igneel. After several months of chasing leads that get him nowhere, he happens upon a girl who claims she’s seen a dragon.

0-0

Gray figured the best way to start his search was to go to the place where Natsu had been found by Gramps all those years ago. Taking advantage of the fact that the dragon slayer had left on a job with Lucy and Happy, Gray had cornered the guild master and plied him with drinks.

He hadn’t missed the curious way Gramps had stared at him once he’d understood what Gray wanted, his brow furrowing as he tried to figure out what Gray was up to and how it tied into his never-ending rivalry with Natsu. Eventually, he recounted everything he remembered and even marked the spot on a map.

Having acquired all the information he needed, Gray decided to leave the next morning. It had been a while since he’d gone off on his own, and he was looking forward to it — the promise of a new adventure exciting him as it always did.

It took him three days of walking to find the forest Gramps had marked on the map. He examined his surroundings, but nothing really caught his attention, it looked like any number of forests he’d visited over the years. Gray explored as much of it as he could, trying to find anything that could be considered a clue to how Natsu had ended up there by himself so many years earlier.

He decided to camp for the night, carefully lighting a fire to cook his food. He found himself staring into the flames, his thoughts straying to Natsu. What must it have felt like for him to find himself here all alone? Had he been scared?

Gramps had mentioned that Natsu had refused to leave this spot, determined that Igneel would return at any moment, even though by his own admission, the dragon slayer had already been waiting for weeks.

He couldn’t help but be glad that the old man had worked his usual magic, convincing the stubborn boy to give guild life a chance. Gray didn’t even want to imagine how different his life would have been if Natsu hadn’t been a part of Fairy Tail, how different he would be if the annoying fire-breather hadn’t been there to challenge him at every opportunity.

Gray thought that was part of what his need to find Igneel was, Natsu had done so much for him over the years, and he’d never been able to repay him in any way that mattered.

He put out the fire, encasing himself in a dome of ice for protection while he slept. In the morning, he got ready to leave. On a whim, he used his ice to lift himself up in the air and look around, hoping to find something that maybe Gramps had missed, but there was nothing but trees everywhere he looked.

Disappointed that the forest had been a bust, he decided to walk to the next town to see if anyone remembered anything from when Natsu had been found or had heard about any dragons in the area.

He traveled to town after town, visiting libraries, searching official records, and talking to anyone he could find, following any lead that came his way regardless of how insignificant it seemed. But no matter how much he searched or how hard he tried, everything turned out to be a dead-end, or easily explained away.

Gray was beginning to understand Natsu’s frustration. Everywhere he went, he was ridiculed for his questions. It had only been a few months since he’d started his journey, but the constant disappointment was already getting to him.

Maybe the real question wasn’t whether Natsu should give up or not, but rather how he’d been able to continue his search for so long. More than ever, Gray wanted to find Igneel for his friend, but he was running out of ideas, and there hadn’t been a lead to follow in days.

He was currently in the city of Malba, eating lunch at a local cafe and considering his options. He wanted to keep going, but the truth was that he was almost out of jewels. He’d have to go home soon.

He also hadn’t exactly told anyone what he was doing or where he was going. Knowing Fairy Tail, they’d be sending out a search party soon, and he could just imagine who would be on it. As much as he wanted to see Natsu again, he was determined to have something to tell him first. Anything that would return that fire back into Natsu’s eyes.

Frustrated by his lack of progress, he decided to walk around and explore the city for a while. The idea of giving up didn’t sit well with him, but Gray didn’t know what else to do. He was surprised to find a magic shop tucked away in an area of the city that had clearly seen better days.

Gray had never really been to a magic shop before. He was a caster mage, and from what he’d understood, these places mostly sold magical items. With nothing better to do and welcoming a distraction, he decided to enter. If nothing else, maybe he could find Natsu a present for his birthday, which was coming up in about two weeks.

As he’d suspected, there were a lot of charms and magic potions, devices that could change your clothes or hair color, but outside of some prime prank material for Natsu, there wasn’t really much there to hold his interest.

Until he came across an area of the shop that seemed to thrum with magical energy. Figuring he had nothing to lose, he pushed the curtains aside and walked through. This room was much more interesting. Even though it was dimly lit, Gray could feel the power emanating from some of the objects encased in the display cases. The man who stood behind the counter nodded at him as he entered, but he was already deep in conversation with a woman.

Gray continued to explore the small room, fascinated by the displays. The case he was currently examining contained many trinkets - rings and lockets, masks that seemed to pulsate with dark energy - as well as different items that purported to be from mythical creatures. A feather from a phoenix, a horn from a unicorn, a stinger from the tail of a manticore, and many others that Gray had never even heard of.

“Daphne, we’ve been through this before, I can’t buy that from you,” the shopkeeper’s voice was laced with irritation, but he seemed to be trying to keep it in check.

“But it’s a dragon scale!” Daphne protested, “It must have some value. They were one of the strongest magical creatures, weren’t they?”

“There hasn’t been a confirmed dragon sighting in hundreds of years, I’m sorry for what happened to your city, but I can’t just buy an item I know is fake.”

“But I’ve seen it with my own eyes!”

“You saw a dragon?” Gray interrupted, excited by the prospect of another lead, “When was this?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Daphne turned to him, her eyes alive with excitement, “It was-”

“No, she didn’t,” the shopkeeper interrupted, “If you’re looking for magical items, I’m sure I can help you find something here that will suit your needs.”

Gray ignored him in favor of examining the woman. She looked to be about his age, with medium length black hair and big brown eyes that hid behind glasses. He couldn’t sense any magic power coming from her, but more importantly, he didn’t get the sense that she was lying.

“Can I see the scale?”

Daphne handed it to him, and Gray could barely contain his excitement. It was a large white scale that looked and felt incredibly similar to those that made up Natsu’s scarf.

“It was red at first,” she informed him, “but it lost all it’s coloring soon after.”

Gray could hear the shopkeeper muttering behind them and made a quick decision. “Can you take me to where you found this?”

” Yeah, sure.”

0-0

They left the magic store behind, then the city, walking towards the field where Daphne claimed to have seen a dragon in the sky some years earlier. Along the way she told Gray a story that he had trouble believing, but made more sense than anything else he’d heard during the last few months.

Daphne claimed she had been playing by herself in the field when she’d heard a loud noise coming from above. Surprised, she’d looked up only to see a large creature flying overhead. It had seemed ghostly, but she’d had no trouble identifying it as a dragon nonetheless.

The extraordinary thing was that she claimed that the dragon seemed to be trying to ram into something. Its terrifying roars rang louder with every failed attempt until suddenly it just disappeared from sight. She’d found several scales in the grass and had grabbed them to show her family, but when she’d arrived home, everyone in the city had disappeared. Well, everyone with magic anyway, Daphne had none.

She’d run to the next town to ask for help, but they hadn’t believed her. Everyone she’d told had made fun of her, calling her crazy and suggesting that maybe everyone in the city had left to get away from her.

Regardless, no one could explain what had happened to the people in her city, and soon it was nicknamed the City Without Sound. People would come to explore it, fascinated by the idea of a ghost town in modern times. Daphne had been left with nothing but the dragon scales, surviving on the jewels she got from selling items she found in the empty houses.

“Are you sure this is where you saw it?” Gray asked, not sensing anything out of the ordinary about the field.

“Of course, I’m sure!” Daphne snapped, “Do you really think I’d forget after what happened?”

“Right, sorry,” Gray excused himself, then he had a thought. “Do you remember what date it was?”

“July 7th of 778,” Daphne replied, peering at him curiously, “Why does it matter?”

Gray startled at the date, it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence, could it? Natsu had been abandoned on that same day a year earlier. He held the dragon scale in his hand and stared at it. It had to mean something, it just had to.

“I have a friend who was raised by a dragon. He was abandoned on that same day in 777, he’s been looking for his dragon ever since,” Gray admitted, handing the scale back. “I’m trying to help him find it.”

“I’ve seen it more than once,” Daphne suddenly admitted.

“What?! Why didn’t you say so before?”

“People already think I’m crazy,” Daphne shrugged, lying down on the grass and staring up at the clouds. “The first year after it happened, I came back here every day, but I never saw anything. When July 7th came around again, I was determined the dragon would show up. I managed to convince a few people to come so I could prove I wasn’t crazy, but when it didn’t show, things got worse for me. But I knew I would see it again, and I was right. The following year I heard the same sound and looked up to see the dragon once again. Everything was the same as before.”

“I raced home, hoping that everyone had returned, but - uhm, they were still gone,” Daphne’s pained chuckle tore at Gray’s heart.

He felt a strange kinship with this girl, he’d lost everyone in the blink of an eye too, and it had been horrible, but at least he’d known what had happened. Whatever took place here on that day had caused her to lose everyone without any explanation, which had to be worse. Still, there was something about what she had said that nagged at him.

And that’s when it hit him, she’d said everyone in the village had had magic, except for her. That was unusual. In general, only about ten percent of people on Earthland had magic.

“Take me to your village,” Gray demanded, determined that there had to be something there that would have caused this to happen.

Daphne considered him for a moment and then got up, shaking off the dirt from her clothes, “What is it you expect to find?”

“I don’t know yet,” Gray admitted, “but I get the feeling I’ll recognize it when I see it.”

“Do you think you can help me get them back?” The hope in her eyes made him pause, he didn’t want to make things worse for her if there was nothing he could do, but he could feel it in his bones. He was on to something.

0-0

He was right.

Even before reaching the city entrance, he could feel it. There was an enormous concentration of ethernano in the air surrounding them, more than what could be considered normal. His magic was buzzing inside him, begging to be let out.

“Daphne, do you think I could have one of those scales to show my friend?”

“I have no idea what’s going on, but you believed me when no one else did, and for that, you may have one with my thanks,” she handed him one of the scales. She looked down at the floor, her voice quivering as she asked, “Do you think they’ll ever come back?”

He didn’t want to give her any false hope, but he knew that if there was one person who knew a lot about dragons, it was Natsu Dragneel, and when they both set their minds to something, nothing ever stood in their way.

The dragon had first been sighted in 778, and Daphne had said that it returned every other year, which meant that if she was telling the truth - and Gray was convinced that she was - it was scheduled to return in a little over a week’s time.

And when it did, he and Natsu would be waiting.

@ao3feed-gratsu​

[seriouslyhooked]

The Same Soul (Part 6)

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here. Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5.

Our world AU where Emma and Killian knew each other as teenagers. Killian was sent to spend a summer with family in America. He met foster kid Emma while there. They fell in love but then he was forced back home and she couldn’t take the memories so she ran away, trying her best to move on from the dreams they’d always hoped for. A chance meeting brings them back together years later, and this time nothing and no one will keep them apart. Rated M.

A/N: Hey all! So after a few months away from this fic, I am back and more ready than ever to tell this story. I love a fic that takes place in both the present and the past. It’s a really fun thing for me and I hope you all feel it adds some good context and dynamic to this AU overall. In this chapter we are back in the past, during the summer that Killian and Emma first met, and it’s been about a month since their first date. It’s a fluffy chapter to be sure, but there’s some moments that might have just a touch of angst. And that’s all I should say, don’t want to spoil too much. Anyway, hope you enjoy and thanks so much for reading!

(Past)

Today is going to be a really good day.

It was the first coherent thought that crossed through Emma’s mind this morning as she woke with the sun, stretching her still sleepy limbs across the softness of her mattress. She was thrilled at the prospect of today, and grateful to have a totally free and clear Saturday. Because there was no camp on the weekends, Emma was left to her own devices, and, as with most other free days that she’d had here this summer, she was going to spend that time with someone she now couldn’t imagine not being in her life.

Even the thought of seeing Killian sent a rush of warmth through her, and Emma knew if she looked in a mirror right now her cheeks would be flushed a noticeable shade of pink. She never blushed before, schooling herself to keep all of her feelings as contained as possible,  but it was unavoidable with Killian. He just got to her in a way no one else ever had. He was charming, yes, and he was also crazy cute, so much so that he distracted her both when they were together and apart, but he was also thoughtful and attentive and patient in a way that let Emma know that he cared for her while also giving her breathing room to be whoever she wanted to be. Emma craved that specific blend of connection and freedom after years of being on her own, and she didn’t know how the hell he managed to understand her so well, but she’d started thinking of Killian as the ‘Emma whisperer’ in her secret musings these past few weeks.

For all her life, or at least as long as she could remember, Emma had been called closed off. The case workers assigned to monitor her and the people at the homes she stayed in said good things about her independence and self-reliance, but at the end of the day it was her guarded nature that people commented on most. That was purposeful, a defense against heartbreak that Emma learned long ago. If she kept people at a distance, and managed all of her expectations, she wouldn’t grow attached and wouldn’t feel disappointment. This made the way things were now so foreign to her. Emma had never woken up each day looking forward to the present. All her life she had been stuck, caught up in the flow of the small but unsteady existence she led. She had nowhere to belong and no one to belong to, and being so unmoored made it that much harder to invest in the good things in life. But this summer that was all beginning to change.

Part of it was this place, this corner of the world that was so serene and green and lively. It was so much quieter than the city she had always known, but no less alive. The woods out here were teeming with life, with birds and bugs and all sorts of creatures Emma felt like she’d never quite get used to seeing and she loved it. Every day was new, but it also felt routine. That was something Emma never really had, and so it calmed her, just as much as her nearly day trips to the coastline did. Watching the waves come in and out and hearing them lapping on the shore helped her center herself, and getting lost on the well trod paths out in the woods somehow made her feel more found than she ever had. She felt safe in this magical location, but so much of that sense safety also came from Killian.

It was hard to put into words why that was. There were so many little things, so many actions tied up in words and moments she would cherish forever, but it had been about month since she met him, and Emma swore each day her walls crumbled just a little bit more. There was so much between them now, and no one in the world knew her like Killian did. She had shared her thoughts, her dreams, and her hopes, and that was a huge thing for her because sometimes, in her darkest moments, she wondered if those wishes were worth having. Life had been hard, but this summer was a lesson in the goodness that could exist too, and when she thought of goodness Emma’s mind always started and stopped with Killian. She saw his smile, she heard his laugh, she felt the press of his lips on hers and the warmth of his hands on her body, and she replayed the quiet but bold affirmations he gave to her every day.

‘You steal my breath away, love.’

‘You make me hope, Emma. You make me feel that anything is possible.’

‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you.’

Those were just a few of the unimaginable things he’d said to her over the past few weeks, and somehow she believed him every time. The ability she had to sniff out a lie had never been triggered with Killian. He was honorable and honest, earnest and sincere, and while that was amazing and miraculous, it was also still an incredibly scary thing for Emma to know and accept.

Because right now, as good as things were and as happy as she was, there was a risk. This could all go sideways at any moment. This summer was eventually going to end. She was going to leave this magical place, and this boy who she loved was going to leave too.

“Love?” Emma said the word aloud, rocked into a state of shock that she’d so freely used a word she never shared with another living soul. She had never loved anyone before, but there it was: she loved Killian.

But that was crazy! Loving him was crazy, and yet she did, and she didn’t want to fight it. It was hard to tell if she even could. Nothing had worked against him when it came to her defenses. One by one he brought them down just by being himself, and the feeling when he did made it all seem worth it. If today was the last day she ever had with Killian, it might just kill her, but she couldn’t seem to run preemptively. She had to see him, had to soak this all in as much as she could.

Still, as she got ready for the morning ahead, Emma knew that there was one thing that scared her most when it came to Killian and it was simple even in its abundant complexity: where as Killian had been completely forthcoming, telling her everything about his life, from his derelict Dad to the passing of his mother, she had held back. She had given him so much more than she ever had to anyone else, but the most important part of all, the part about her being abandoned and never finding anyone who wanted her all this time, that was still a secret. He didn’t know she was in foster care, he just knew she was on scholarship. He asked about her family a few times and she diverted, but that was weeks ago. He respected her not wanting to discuss it, but what would he say when he knew? Would he still look at her like she was some kind of perfect person? Or would he see that she was ordinary, or worse that she wasn’t worth loving after all?

The tolling of the clock on the mantel told her that she had no more time to dwell in these awful what-ifs, because Killian was supposed to be here now. Since he had never ever been late in all their time knowing each other, Emma knew he’d already be waiting for her at the gate, and when she grabbed her bag and locked the door behind her, she turned to find she was exactly right. But still, even if they’d shared weeks of similar moments, she was still struck breathless by the sight of him, and the world seemed to spin just a little more than usual as she made her way towards him.

“Emma,” he said in greeting, his eyes filled with both relief and appreciation as she meandered towards him.

No sooner was she through the gate than his hands were on her, pulling her close with a speed that made her gasp. He smiled at her, running one hand along her cheek as the other held her hip. Then he dipped his lips to hers, kissing her with in a slow and sensual way that made her want more, while still being appropriate enough for this not so private place.

“I missed you, love,” he said when he pulled back, the truth in his eyes shining just as bright as the cerulean flecks in his ocean blue gaze.

“You just saw me last night,” Emma quipped, though her heart was pounding in elated satisfaction.

“Aye, but it makes no difference. You know I hate to leave you. Nothing feels right again until we are together.”

“Well lucky for you we have all day,” Emma said and Killian agreed he was a lucky man before kissing her again. This time though, their stolen moment was interrupted by a low whine coming from below, and Emma laughed as she pulled back, crouching low to greet the other favorite companion she’d met this summer.

“I’m not the only one who missed you,” Killian said as Emma loved on Missy with her usual vigor. She loved this dog so much, almost as much as Killian seemed to, and hearing she was missed not just by Killian but by Missy as well made Emma feel so special.

“I missed you both too,” Emma whispered as she stood up, ducking her head so Killian wouldn’t see her eyes which were threatening to water in the face of all this affection. But he waited her out, taking her hand and running his thumb back and forth along her skin absentmindedly.

“It won’t always be like this, Emma.”

Hearing that made her stomach cramp up in actual pain. It hurt to realize that Killian saw the end of this too. When summer came she’d miss him even more, but when Killian tilted her face up to his she was confused. Because he didn’t look sad – he looked determined.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that someday soon there will come a day when we don’t need to be parted. Not for a single night.”

Emma didn’t even know how to respond to that. She wanted it, but she also knew how far away that day must be. Here he was saying it would be soon, but they were still so young. They couldn’t make decisions about their life like that until they were of age, and though Killian was older, he had a few months left before he hit eighteen. But even with all that, the look in his eyes gave Emma no choice but to hope. He had that expression again, the one that said he’d stop at nothing to see a good thing come to pass, and everything she knew about Killian told Emma that where he had a will he would always make a way. Instead of responding to him directly, she pressed another swift kiss to his lips and smiled, watching as the action calmed him down and melted away some of the harshness of before.

“So, what are we doing today?” she asked, after pulling back and taking his hand once more.

“Nice try, love, but you know it’s not that simple,” Killian teased. His propensity for surprising her had only continued as the summer went on and Emma groaned, though it was mostly for show.

“You’re lucky I always bring everything just in case.”

Emma stopped short after her unanticipated confession, hoping that Killian wouldn’t realize how true that was. She essentially had everything that mattered to her in this bag right now. That’s how few belongings she really cared about. There were clothes and such at her living quarters, but the few items she truly valued went with her wherever she went just in case. She’d never had to run before, but she was always prepared, even now.

“You all right, Emma?” Killian asked and Emma nodded, regrouping and doing her best to immerse herself back in the day with Killian.

He made it as easy as possible to do so, bringing her to one of her favorite places in the area – the beach. Once there they walked along the coast, passing dozens of other people, some with their families, and some with friends, until finally they were at her favorite spot – a sandy patch nestled between rock-lined coves that Killian had brought her to a few weeks ago.

“I still can’t believe no one knows about this place,” Emma said, shaking her head in awe as she helped Killian spread out the blanket he’d brought for the two of them to use.

When that was done, she reached for her shirt, stripping it away and shedding her shorts leaving her in only her bathing suit, and she didn’t think much of it. She was so comfortable with Killian at this point and they’d done this a number of times. She didn’t think of it as anything more than an innocent act, but when she looked back over at him, surprised at his silence, she realized how much she effected him. The look in his eyes was a cross between ravenous and bewitched and it made her feel immensely powerful. She could have chosen to wilt under his appraisal or feel embarrassed, but how could she when he was so obvious? He was clearly very pleased with what he saw, and that was only fair seeing as how in a few short moments, he’d lose his shirt and she’d feel the same way.

“Cat got your tongue, Jones?” Emma teased and she heard a low rumbling sound that she might have mistaken for Missy if it wasn’t heard a time or two before. No, that was all Killian, losing his head again and letting some sort of primal side take over. It thrilled her to know how much he wanted her, and this back and forth was intoxicating to her. It turned out Emma liked a bit of a chase, and with that in mind she smiled widely at him before sprinting at the water, knowing he was half a second from pulling her close.

Hearing his curses and the sound of him trying to get rid of his own clothes was hard over her laughter, but Emma was now attuned to these moments that she’d play back later like her favorite song. She made it to the water’s edge, delighting in the cold ocean as it counteracted the heat of the sun and her exertion, but then she was caught, with Killian’s arms wrapping around her as he carried her further into the water. She screamed, but in a playful way, and then they were submerged together underneath the ocean swell, bobbing underneath the waves until they came back up again and she splashed him in foe offense.

“Killian!”

“What? We needed to cool off, love. If we didn’t we’d run the very real risk of being charged with public indecency.”

“Is that right?” Emma asked as Killian caught her again in the water. Being like this she let her legs wrap around him as he held her. She wouldn’t go so far in real life, but here it just felt right. It was a tease of what could be, and as she felt his hard body underneath her she squirmed a bit, making him groan again.

“Have I ever told you how tempting you are, Swan?”

“Only like every day,” she replied, biting her lip to keep back a smirk and getting exactly what she wanted in return – another heated kiss. And damn was it hot, even with the water around them, Emma was burning up, taking it just to the edge with Killian and wishing so badly that they could go even further. So far they hadn’t, choosing to be much slower in their physical intimacy while they truly got to know one another, but Emma was finding more and more each day how impatient she was. She didn’t like the waiting, and if Killian weren’t so steadfast in taking things slow… well, she didn’t really know where they’d be right now.

“God, you undo me,” he said resting his forehead against hers, his breath coming out in harsh pants that mirrored hers. She sighed at his words, closing her eyes and taking it all in. She wanted to keep this moment forever, just like all the others, and she was almost afraid to open her eyes again, thinking maybe this was all just some crazy beautiful dream.

Yet as the day went on, there was more and more proof that this wasn’t a dream. This was really her life, and Emma was happier than she’d ever been before. Their time on the beach evolved into a picnic in the cove, and then a long walk with Missy through town. They got ice cream, they watched the ships come in and out of port, and they talked with each other about anything and everything. As the sun set, they enjoyed the natural beauty, watching the sky change and the fading light bid goodbye to a nearly perfect day. It made Emma worry that they’d soon be saying goodbye to each other as well, but Killian had other plans. Down for anything herself, Emma followed him back through town not so far from where she was staying. Before they got there, though, Killian stopped at a giant estate Emma had seen before and recognized as his Uncle’s. She felt her heart catch – she’d never been to his Uncle’s place before. Was this some sort of meeting she didn’t know about? She wasn’t dressed for this, or ready, but before she could truly panic Killian kissed her hand in a knowing and gentle manner.

“Don’t worry, love. We’re not going inside tonight. My plans are of a more outdoor nature.”

Emma expelled a breath, glad for that fact but then her mind wandered to how gorgeous this place was. As spectacular as the main estate was of her benefactress, this house was just as palatial but in a different way. It was less manicured and groomed. The flowers here were less cultivated and more organic, honoring the true beauty of the world around them. Emma still couldn’t fathom why anyone needed a house so large, but as they went behind the house, Emma’s breath caught again.

“Oh my god,” she said, the words carrying on the wind as she took in the sight before her. For there was a path lit up in the night by tasteful, gilded lanterns leading deep into the woods.

“I wish I could take the credit for these, but my it’s all my Uncle’s doing.”

“He must be a real romantic,” Emma said, and Killian looked thoughtful.

“Perhaps. If he is, he’s sadly unmatched now.”

“He could still find someone,” Emma said, suddenly hoping for happiness for a man she’d never even met.

“I hope he will,” Killian said. “But trust me, Swan, this isn’t what I brought you here to see.”

Emma couldn’t imagine what could be better than this, and the whole way out into the woods she found herself wondering where they could be going. The golden glow around them as the twilight darkened towards full blown night was so surreal and almost otherworldly. She could hardly fathom where it would lead, until they came to a large clearing. She waited for something, not really understanding what the end game was here and just when she was about to ask why they had come here she spotted the first blip at the corner of her eye.

“Fireflies,” she whispered, not realizing if she spoke aloud the thought that crossed her mind.

For nearly seventeen years Emma wondered what fireflies really looked like. Would they embody the magic that stories and movies seemed to make of them? It was somewhat suspect to her, until now, when she could feel the anticipation and the instant satisfaction of seeing one and then another and then another. This clearing, for whatever reason, was filled with them and it seemed Killian had timed this exactly right for them to take in the show.

“Now some might say that this is the best seat in the house. They don’t seem to go very far into the trees, so you can see them all just fine right here.” Killian murmured the words as if speaking too loudly might scare away these new little beings.

“But what if…” Emma trailed off, not wanting to ask for more when he’d already given her so much. Yet again Killian’s thoughtfulness was gifting her with an impossibly wonderful experience, and to make a suggestion right now just felt ungrateful.

“What if we wanted to be in the thick of it?” Killian asked, reading her mind and Emma nodded quickly prompting a smile from Killian. “Well, I came prepared for that.”

Emma tore her attention between the continuing lights around them and Killian rummaging through his backpack, but when he produced two flashlights covered in blue tissue paper she was surprised. “It’s an old trick my brother learned when we were kids. Fireflies are drawn to the color blue. It attracts them, like moths to a flame.”

“I can relate,” Emma said, thinking of Killian’s eyes but covering her mouth in horror as she realized she said that aloud. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Not likely, Swan,” Killian replied, pulling her closer and kissing her sweetly before handing her her flashlight. “Now come on, we’ve only got a little while with them. Let’s make the most of it.”

Emma was glad for his request because he ended up being oh so right. The lightening bugs were breathtaking and astounding, spiraling through the meadow in entrancing little swirls, some of them even landing on her and Killian. He was right about the lights. They seemed to love it, and Emma adored the sensation of being surrounded by them all. Everywhere she looked there were golden blips, sparkles in the night that pulsed in perfect harmony with the rest of this wooded grove. She instantly knew that stories couldn’t do this justice. One had to experience this, they had to feel the summer heat turning to a nighttime cool, smell that woodsy smell of fresh earth and green leaves, and hear the gentle buzzing of these tiny beetles in flight. Only though first hand experience could someone understand the real beauty behind this and appreciate what a strange and amazing occurrence this was in nature. It made Emma believe in something else, something divine, because such a perfect moment couldn’t be an accident. It had to be fate.

They stayed out there, for how long Emma couldn’t be sure, but in that time she let her guard down completely, even more than she usually would. Killian always made her feel older, like a woman or an adult, but right now this was a space where they could be a bit more childlike. She never had this as a little kid and she loved it, and Killian seemed to love her love. They laughed together, running around at different moments, taking in the ebb and flow of these little lightening bugs with the help of their flashlights. Sometimes they landed on her, lighting up her sun-tanned skin in this almost ethereal way, other times they lit up Killian, illuminating his expression which was already so bright and happy, making Emma’s palpable joy climb even higher. But eventually, their private little light show ended. Perfect moments had to come to a close, and one by one the bugs flew off, leaving Emma and Killian out there alone under the pale moonlight, lying out under the ever brightening stars.

“God that was… I don’t even have words.”

“So you liked it then?” Killian asked, as if it wasn’t a given that this was one of the single best moments of her life.

“I’ve never been so happy,” she confessed, looking over to Killian and wondering if it was okay to say that. Did she seem weird or desperate? It only took one moment to know he didn’t see her that way.

“There’s something I have to tell you, Emma. Something I’ve been wanting to say for a long time.” She could hear her heart beating in her chest, pounding in anticipation until he said three words she wanted to hear more than any other. “I love you.”

Emma let those three little words wash over her, seeping into her very being like water to a rose. The elation at knowing that this incredible human being could feel for her what she felt for him was sensational. In the magic of the moonlight, lit up as she was from such a perfect day, Emma finally knew what it was to belong and to feel at home. Killian had made all of these beautiful moments possible in her life. He made ordinary things feel extraordinary and exceptional. He looked out for her, applauded her, cheered her on ,and believed in her. He made time for her and he listened to her, reassuring her at every impasse that she was smart and fun and worth being around.  He showed her every single day since the first day they met that she was important to him, and right now, when he told her he loved her she knew that he meant it. In a bond forged in honesty and truthfulness, this was somehow the truest thing he’d ever said to her, and it brought happy tears to her eyes. She wanted this so much – wanted him more than anything else in the world – but he didn’t really know her, and realizing that she now had to come clean broke her heart.

“I know you think that, but you wouldn’t say that if you knew everything,” Emma said, sitting up and hiding her face as her knees automatically came in, curling her up into a fearful stance. But before she could retreat too far into herself, she felt his hand on her, a gentle reminder of his devotion.

“Emma, I promise you there is nothing to know that would change how I feel. I love you. Don’t ever doubt that. Whatever you think there is still left to tell me, I swear on everything it won’t change my love.”

“But it will!” She cried out, her tears no streaming as her throat closed from the pain of it all. “You don’t get it. You can’t love me because no one ever has. I have no parents, no family. They gave me up. They didn’t want me.”

“Emma,” Killian whispered, but she couldn’t let him reassure her. She appreciated that his hands stayed on her but she had to get this out.

“I don’t know what happened to them. I was found as a newborn and no one could figure out where I came from so I went into the system and I never left. When I was little I liked to think that they still wanted me. Maybe they’d come back. Maybe they were sorry for leaving me. But whatever kept them from keeping me it doesn’t matter. The end result is the same. I went into the system and no one ever wanted me. I was never good enough. I never fit. I don’t belong.”

“That’s not true, Emma. You do belong. You belong right here with me.”

“How do you know that? How are you sure?”

“Because there’s nothing in my life that means as much as you. No one who makes me feel so much, who makes me want again. You are this rare and impossible treasure, like an angel from a dream and yet you’re real. And it doesn’t matter to me where you come from, it only matters because it made you Emma, the girl I love, the only one I ever will.”

“I love you too,” Emma confessed, “But I’m scared. I’ve never loved anyone. I don’t know how – I -,”

Her worries were pushed aside as Killian brought her close, kissing her apprehension away and trying to show her the intensity of his feelings. His faith in this was so strong and so reassuring, it was impossible to deny him. His love was still so strong even though he knew. She had told him her last terrible secret – she’d shared just how lost and lonely she really was – and here he stayed, claiming her, wanting her, loving her.

“I thought I was broken, Emma,” he said as they came apart, but just barely, clinging to each other with all this heavy emotion swirling around. “When my Mum died I thought I was mostly gone with her.  I didn’t think I’d ever be happy again, I felt like nothing mattered anymore, and then I met you and I realized that even in darkness there is light. You saved me, Emma. You made me whole, putting back pieces I never had, even when she was here. And you did it with your smile and your wit. You did it with the look you get when you know you’re right, and the way you always want to help anybody in any way that you can. I hadn’t even known you a day and I knew I’d never be the same, and that I want you forever. I didn’t get a chance to say it before, but I feel as you do. Today was the happiest I’ve ever been and it’s all because of you. Because you love me, and because, even if you’re afraid, I know that love isn’t going anywhere.”

“I might mess this up,” Emma admitted, knowing that anything was possible with something so new and foreign to her.

“You couldn’t even if you tried, love. Something this right is fated to happen. You can’t run away from destiny. You can’t muck it up. It follows you, and you, Emma Swan, are my destiny.”

How could she compete with words like that when they spoke to exactly how she felt? Emma didn’t know, so she followed her instincts, pulling him close and spending the rest of the few precious hours they had left before her curfew reveling in this new state they were in. Love had been here for some time, but to have it shared like this, spoken aloud and agreed to so clearly was indescribable. She still was afraid, she still was unsure, but that wasn’t going to hold her back. Whatever she didn’t know she would learn, and whatever obstacles may come, she knew Killian would be there for her every step of the way. She just had to keep fighting and keep choosing this new life, two things she planned to do as long as she had her soul mate by her side.

Post-Note: Hey all, so I know that I have done the firefly thing before, but for me personally it’s one of the highlights of every summer. I genuinely love seeing the fireflies. I loved catching them as a kid, I love watching them with my family, and I think sharing that magic with someone you love is just about the sweetest thing you can do. I wanted Killian to share that with Emma, and I think that having written so many stories, it’s okay if there’s some overlap. I mean as the self-dubbed queen of fluff, I have recycled a trope or two before already… Anyway, next chapter is going to also be partially in the past and as you might have guessed it will be from Killian’s POV. That being said, it’s a very heavy chapter but I will not leave you guys in pain or suspense. There’s nothing I hate more than leaving a story in a precarious place, especially emotionally, trust that I will make it right even if I break our hearts just a little bit in the process. As always, I thank you all so much for reading. I hope you’ve enjoyed, and I would love to hear what you think!

[write-havoc]

Of Sons and Daughters Ch. 8

Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.

This is a non canon AU with no major spoilers

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, PG 13 smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

Having heard nothing back from Arthur after sending off a letter with Charles to give to him, Emmeline concludes that he wants nothing to do with her. It hurts. A lot, actually. She sheds many tears when the realization hits her that he’s not going to contact her. Her only friend, the only person she felt any connection to in the world would never talk to her again.

She pushes on, despite her sadness. Traveling into Valentine every few days, she sells her fish to the butcher on the corner for the money she needs to buy her supplies. She’s very nervous at first to walk around by herself, but after a while, she realizes that people mostly just pass her by, not paying her much mind.

Once she gets home from her trips into town, she always lets out a sigh as she opens her door. Her small cabin seems so large and empty when she crosses the threshold. To keep her mind off of the deafening silence, she buries herself in books, rereading ones she’s read a million times before in addition to new ones she saves up her money to buy.

She also practices her drawing skills. Drawing Arthur is too painful for her, so she focuses on illustrating Miss Susie just right. Her chickens, who all have their own names, are also frequent models for her. With all the time she spends putting pencil to paper, her pictures become more refined and detailed. She even tacks the best ones up on her walls as decorations.

During the same several weeks, Arthur is restless. He spends much of his time away from camp, whether he’s hunting, fishing, or just exploring the land around him. Pearson’s wagon never runs low with all the animals Arthur is bringing back. Plus, he’s given Pearson enough supplies to make him some satchels and spruce up the camp a little to boot. Even though Arthur is choosing to spend more time alone, he still gets roped into the odd job at times.

Just a couple days after the situation with Emmeline’s letter, Arthur sits next to the lake, drawing a picture of ducks in flight when Dutch comes up to him.

“Got something for you,” he says in an almost sing song way.

Arthur closes his journal and stashes it away in his satchel before turning back to the older man. “What’s that?”

Dutch pulls his hand out from around his back to show Arthur a shiny silver badge. “You and me are officially deputies of this fine city of Rhodes!” he calls out jovially.

Arthur just stares at the object for a moment. “What in the hell do you mean we’re deputies?” He gets up and takes the badge from Dutch.

“I got the good sheriff drunk and convinced him to let me and you help him with his little Braithwaite problem.”

“Braithwaite problem?”

“You haven’t noticed that the two most prominent families here seem to have a decades long blood feud going on?”

Arthur fiddles with the little bit of metal in his hand, tracing his thumb over the recessed letters of the word “deputy”. “Yeah, I noticed. I just didn’t think it would be our problem.”

“It’s not going to be our problem , my boy. It’ll be our gain .”

“How do ya figure that?”

“Seems there’s rumors about town that the Grays and the Braithwaites are sitting on a pile of Confederate gold. I think if we get them distracted enough, we can swoop right in and take it.”

“Confederate gold?” Arthur can’t help but laugh. “There’s rumors of Confederate gold bein’ buried all over the south! They ain’t nothin’ but rumors , though, Dutch.”

Dutch’s face falls into an unimpressed expression. “I’m inclined to believe them in this case, Arthur.”

“Why?”

“Because why else would these families be fighting each other so hard if not for money?”

Arthur shrugs as he scratches at his beard. “I don’t know. People fight for all sorts ‘a reasons.”

“Well, that gold’s out there. I can feel it.”

“I ain’t sure ‘bout that, Dutch. If one of them families was sitting on a cache of gold, they’d ‘a spent it by now. Even if they ain’t exactly hurting for money. You know rich people always find something to spend it on.”

Dutch lets out a little huff. “I also know that rich people are good at squirreling away money they don’t want the government to find out about,” he replies.

Arthur nods once in agreement. “I guess.” Though Dutch’s statement is true, Arthur still isn’t completely convinced. “Ain’t they into liquor and tobacco?” he changes the subject, not wanting to really start an argument.

“Yeah. The Braithwaites are, indeed, in the moonshine business, now that you mention it. And as Sheriff Gray’s new deputies, we’ve been tasked with destroying one of their stills.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Dutch repeats, a little annoyed. “You know, I was pretty excited to get the chance to work with you since we haven’t done so in a while, but if you’re gonna be like this-“

“I’ll do it,” Arthur finds himself saying. He doesn’t really want to, but Dutch’s guilt trip was successful in making Arthur feel bad about being away from him so much.

After that mission, though, Arthur’s already low enthusiasm in getting in the middle of the blood feud between the families drops even more. That’s when he makes himself scarce. To save himself from another guilt trip from Dutch, though, he makes sure to keep providing for the camp. If he keeps everyone fed and the money box full, Dutch won’t really be able to complain. At least too much.

After turning in some pelts to the trapper in Saint Denis, Arthur finds himself riding north on the easternmost shore on the outskirts of the city. For some unknown reason, he starts to wander around the little islands out there, avoiding alligators and getting stuck in the mud. Out of the corner of his eye, he happens to catch the sight of a lock box, half dug out of the mud underneath a tree. Once he opens it, he’s disappointed to find that instead of money, it’s filed with nothing but old letters dated to the early 1800s. He’s about to straighten back up to leave when the name “Lucille Braithwaite” catches his eye.

Upon reading the letters, Arthur pieces together that many years ago, Lucille Braithwaite and Douglas Gray, of the infamous Rhodes families, were in love with each other. As interesting as that historical tidbit is, it’s the letter in which Lucille instructs Douglas to steal gold from her family and as well as his own in order to help fund the abolition of slavery.

Arthur lets out a shocked chuckle at this development. After shoving all the letters in his satchel, he makes a bee line for the camp back at Clemens Point. Once he gets there, he immediately hands Dutch the letters as the man stands by his own tent.

“What’s this?” Dutch asks as he sifts through the papers.

“There ain’t no gold,” Arthur comments simply.

From close by, Hosea hears this exchange and walks over. “No gold where?”

“Those families are fightin’ over nothin’,” Arthur starts to explain as Dutch reads over the letters. “Two members of their own families worked together to take all that gold. Those families didn’t steal from each other; they stole from themselves.”

Hosea seems confused at first. “So where’s the gold?”

Dutch lets out a huff as he shoves the letters toward Hosea. “It’s gone. Given away almost a hundred years ago.”

Hosea takes the papers and starts to read them himself.

“Damnit!” Dutch calls out. “That gold could’ve gotten us where we needed to be.”

“Seems there were a couple of good-hearted people in those inbred families at one time,” Hosea comments. “Gave all that money to try and stop the slave trade. It’s noble.”

Dutch scoffs. “Puts us out.”

“We should back off from them,” Hosea says, but is met with a glare from Dutch.

“Just because two people acted nobly a hundred years ago doesn’t mean the people here now are innocent.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hosea corrects. “I meant that they’re starting to get suspicious. And our profit margin just went way down. We need to cut our losses before we get run out of this town and attract more attention than we already have. Pinkertons are on our trail already. Remember, they found our first camp.”

Arthur agrees, but he waits to see what Dutch will say before he voices his opinion.

Dutch finally speaks up after casting his gaze down. “Yeah. I suppose we should stop playing those families.”

From out of nowhere, Micah comes stomping towards them. He had been eavesdropping on the conversation, apparently, and is none too happy with what he heard.

“What?!” the blond man calls out. “So while Arthur has been sulking around pining for that girl and letting us all pick up the slack around here, he just happens across a bunch ‘a letters that just so happen to confirm just why he hasn’t been helping out with everything. Seems awfully convenient to me.”

Before Arthur can bite anything back, Hosea cuts in. “You really think that Arthur went out, found old paper with the Braithwaite’s letterhead,” he holds the letters up harshly to show Micah, “used a fountain pen to write in a script he’s never used before, and concocted all this back story just to get us to back off?” He gives Micah a stern look.

Micah, knowing that he has been successfully told off, but not wanting to admit that, just shrugs. “Maybe.”

Hosea rolls his eyes. “Have you always been dumber ‘n a box of rocks?” he asks Micah.

In response, Micah throws Dutch a look before stomping off.

“Why do we keep him around?” Arthur comments.

“Arthur,” Dutch chides. “He’s still rough, but I see something in him.”

“Don’t know what,” Arthur mutters under his breath.

Dutch hears him just fine, though. “Follow me, Arthur. We need to talk about something.”

The two men walk out to the lake shore, far enough away that no one can listen in.

“I ain’t never gonna like Micah,” Arthur starts to defend himself, assuming this little talk will be about their ongoing feud.

“I know. I don’t wanna talk about that.” Dutch takes out a cigar and lights it. “I saw Emmeline in Valentine a couple weeks ago.”

Arthur looks over to him with wide eyes. He doesn’t say anything, though, waiting for Dutch to finish.

“She was selling off some fish to the butcher. She looked like she was doing good for herself.”

Arthur nods. “That’s good.”

“The butcher told me he sees her a few times a week. I gave him some extra money to give her when he sees her.”

“He actually gonna do that instead of pocket it?” Arthur responds skeptically.

“If he knows what’s best for him, he will.” He takes a puff on his cigar, letting the smoke cloud the air between him and Arthur. “Despite what happened between you two, I need to thank you for teaching her what you did to give her a chance.”

Arthur doesn’t know what to say to that. “She’s smart. She just needed someone to show her. Took to fishing pretty well.”

“Despite the teacher,” Dutch jokes.

“Yeah.” Arthur chuckles.

“She’s a beautiful girl,” Dutch comments. “A good man is going to sweep her up in no time.”

Arthur schools his features despite his chest tightening at the thought of another man making her his wife.

One day, Arthur finds himself around Valentine, so he decides to run into the store to stock up on coffee. After he grabs what he went in there for, he ends up buying a few extras, too. Oat cakes for Sparrow, some apples, too, and chocolate bars. Once he exits with his satchel now completely full, he sees a familiar horse with a small cart hitched behind it and, of course, a familiar woman in the seat.

He thinks for a moment that he should duck back into the store, go out the back to avoid Emmeline all together. He finds that his feet are already taking him closer to her, though.

When she finally notices him walking beside her, she pulls Miss Susie to a stop and stares at him a moment. Before he can say anything to greet her, her expression falls from neutral to something more pained as her eyes well up with tears.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “Don’t cry, Emma. Please.”

She looks away from him quickly and covers her face with her hands. “I’m sorry.”

An voice from behind them suddenly calls out, “You wanna move it, mister. I got places to be.”

Arthur looks back to see an angry man trying to maneuver his own cart around Emmeline’s. He holds back from responding to the guy none too kindly. Instead, he jumps up beside Emmeline and steers her horse off the road and into the alleyway.

“Are you alright, Emma?” he asks softly.

She doesn’t remove her hands from her face, too embarrassed for Arthur to see her so upset.

Arthur lets out a heavy breath. “Please look at me.”

She takes her hands away, wiping at her eyes before looking up at him. “I didn’t expect to see you,” she replies quietly.

He looks away before jumping down off the cart. When he turns back, he holds his arms out to her, prompting her to step down, too. Leading her out of the alley, they move to stand behind one of the buildings for a little more privacy.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice still choked with emotion.

“You don’t got nothin’ to be sorry about.”

“Did Charles give you my letter?”

He scratches at his beard. He really has let it get a little unruly. “I read it.”

She nods. There was that little bit of hope in her that he hadn’t read it and that their time apart could be explained by something else. But, no. He knew she wanted to talk with him and chose not to.

“I see,” she replies sadly. “Can you just tell me what I did wrong?”

“You didn’t do nothin’ wrong. It’s just...” he trails off. “You’re better off without me.”

She looks up at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“Find yourself a good man that’ll take care of you.”

“ You’re a good man,” she comments.

“I ain’t, Emmeline. I ain’t a good man at all.”

“How can you say that after everything you’ve done?”

“You don’t know of everything I’ve done.”

“I know what you did for me.”

He shakes his head. “Emma, please understand-“

“Just tell me you don’t want me.”

He looks up to her. “What?”

“I’ll be alright if you say you don’t want me. We can just be friends. And... if you don’t want to see me, we can write letters. Please, Arthur...” She chokes back tears. “You’re my only friend. Don’t just leave me.”

It absolutely breaks his heart to see her pleading like this. But this is all for the best for her. Keeping her away from him is better for her. Right?

“I’m an outlaw,” he blurts out, though he’s not really sure why de does.

“What?”

“I’m an outlaw,” he repeats. “I’ve stolen. Lied. Hurt people. Killed people. Spent more ‘n a few nights in jail.”

“An outlaw?” She blinks hard, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. “I-I thought you worked for for Uncle Tacitus.”

“Ain’t no such man,” he explains. “It’s just an alias we give out so people can write to us. It changes depending on where we’re at. Tacitus Kilgore. Aiden O’Malley. Some others. They’re just names.”

She shakes her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Emma. You’re too good to be in this life. I’m a bad man. I run with bad men. You should just forget all about me. Act like I never existed.”

She stares up at him, trying to process everything. “Did you steal from me?” she finally asks.

“No,” he answers automatically.

“Did you plan to? Did you plan to hurt me?”

“No,” he responds emphatically. “I would never hurt you. Or take from you like that.”

“Then you’re still a good man, Arthur Morgan. With everything you did for me, you’re a good man . You’re not changing my mind in that.”

He lets out a sigh. “You have to understand, Emmeline-“ He pauses when he sees the odd expression on her face. “You alright?”

Emmeline quickly turns away from Arthur, taking a few steps before starting to dry heave into the bushes.

“Shit.” Arthur rushes over to place his hand in her back as she’s bent over. “You sick?”

She stands back up and takes a deep breath once she’s done. “Yes, I think so. I threw up both my breakfast and lunch today. And I did so yesterday, too. The day before that, I was queasy.” She wipes her mouth on her sleeve. “I was on my way to see the doctor when I saw you.”

The thought that Emmeline could possibly be sick has Arthur worried, so he quickly leads her to the nearby doctor’s office. Just as they get to the door, the doctor walks out with his keys in his hand.

“She’s sick,” Arthur calls out.

The doctor doesn’t even turn around, but continues with putting his key in the lock. “Sorry. She’ll have to come back tomorrow. I’m closed.”

Arthur suddenly grabs the man but the collar and pins him to the wall beside the door. “She’s sick,” Arthur growls in the man’s face.

The doctor smartly decides not to make the man before him angry. “Alright, sir. I-I’ll see her.” Once Arthur releases him, the doctor unlocks the door and opens it. “Exam room is in the back.”

As the doctor closes the front door, Arthur leads Emmeline into the back room. She takes her seat in the exam chair as the doctor enters.

“Are you her husband?” he asks Arthur.

“Uh. Yes,” Arthur lies. He’s not going to risk this doctor not seeing Emmeline because he might think it improper to examine a single woman.”

Emmeline isn’t fond of lying, but she follows Arthur’s lead nevertheless. “He’s my husband,” she asserts, though it’s unprompted.

The doctor gives her a look. “So, what seems to be bothering you Mrs...?”

“Callahan,” Arthur provides.

“Mrs. Callahan.” The doctor waits for her to answer his question.

“My stomach,” she answers. “I’ve been queasy for a few days. I threw up earlier today and yesterday, too.”

He places his hand on her head. “Any chills?”

“No.”

“Diarrhea?”

“No.”

“Headaches?”

“No.”

“Eaten anything new recently.”

Emmeline thinks. “No.”

He straightens up and looks over to Arthur. “How long have you been married?”

“Six months,” Arthur pulls out of nowhere.

The doctor turns back to Emmeline. “When was your last monthly?”

“Uh.” Emmeline thinks. “It was... uh.”

“More than a month ago?” the doctor cuts in.

“Maybe two,” Emmeline finally answers.

“Were you having them regularly before this?”

“Yes. I think so.”

Arthur’s eyes go wide once he realizes what the doctor is thinking.

“I assume you have been having marital relations,” the doctor comments.

Both Emmeline and Arthur’s faces go red.

“Well,” the doctor calls out too cheerfully to the room, “I’m inclined to think that Mrs. Callahan is in a family way. Though we wont be sure for another month or so.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur asks in a voice much higher than his usual one.

The doctor thinks a moment. “Have you been fatigued lately?” he asks Emmeline.

“Yes. I’ve found myself taking naps in the afternoon,” she answers.

“Are you able to stand any pressure to your chest?”

“Not really,” she answers, recalling how tender her breasts have been lately. “Is that bad?”

“It’s a fairly common symptom of early pregnancy,” the doctor answers.

“Pregnancy,” Emmeline whispers the word.

“Are you sure ?” Arthur repeats, his brain still trying to come to terms with everything.

The doctor chuckles. “As sure as I can be this early on, Mr. Callahan. But with a young, healthy woman like that, I don’t suspect it could be anything else.”

He goes back out to the main room for a moment, leaving Arthur and Emmeline alone in the room. Both of them are too shocked to even say anything to each other. When he comes back in, he hands a paper off to Emmeline.

“Here are the names of some midwives in the area. It won’t hurt to talk to them. But if your menses return, this episode may be diet related, so you’ll have to watch that. If you still cease to bleed and your abdomen starts to grow, you’ll know you’re with child.”

Both Arthur and Emmeline are in shock at the news. Neither of them say anything as the doctor hurries them out of his office so he can finally lock up for the day. They stand there dumbstruck for a few minutes before Emmeline speaks up.

“Can we talk about this?” she asks, unsure what Arthur will do.

He turns to her and looks right into her eyes. “I’ll drive you home and then we can talk.” After unhitching Sparrow so she can follow them, he helps Emmeline into the cart then sits beside her, taking the reins. They’re both quiet for the short ride, waiting until they’re in the privacy of Emmeline’s cabin to start to talk.

As they start to pull up to the house, Arthur sees two strange horses and two riders to go with them standing near the front door of the house. The men are dressed in nice suits complete with bowler hats and badges that Arthur has never seen before. They’re certainly not with the local law, so these must be the Pinkertons that Hosea mentioned.

“Isn’t this a surprise?” the older man of the two calls out as Arthur pulls up. “Arthur Morgan, I presume.”

Arthur quickly jumps down and rounds the wagon to help Emmeline down. He makes sure to push her behind him as they approach the men.

“Who are you?” Arthur growls out.

“I’m Agent Milton,” the man closest to him says. “And this is Agent Ross.” He gestures back to the man holding the shotgun.

“Leave. Now,” Arthur demands.

“No need to be rude, Mr. Morgan. I’m not here for you. I’m here for Miss Van Der Linde.” He gestures to Emmeline.

Arthur’s eyes go wide. This man should not know anything about Emmeline. Especially that she’s actually Dutch’s daughter.

Thinking that this must be a misunderstanding, Emmeline steps out from behind Arthur to address Milton. “That’s not my name. I’m Emmeline Turner. You’re looking for someone else.”

Arthur steps forward, once again putting himself in front.

Milton snickers at her. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

“Know what?” Emmeline peeks her head out to ask.

Arthur lets out a huff. “She ain’t a part of this, so leave .”

Milton seems amused. “This is quite the situation Dutch orchestrated, isn’t it? The son he raised but didn’t father found in the company of the daughter he fathered but never raised.”

Emmeline steps out again, but Arthur still covers her with his arm. “My father was Joseph Turner,” she insists. “Not that other man you said.”

Milton leans forward smugly. “You’re Dutch Van Der Linde’s bastard, sweetheart,” he insists. “Your mama must’ve been a busy girl.”

“Enough,” Arthur says to shut him up. “What do you want?”

Milton straightens up. “Since you’re here, Mr. Morgan, I’m going to offer you a deal. Get Dutch to meet me so I can bring him in and I won’t harm a hair on anyone else’s head in that gang of yours. Not the women. Not the old man. Not that little family. Not the negro,” he continues to show off just how much he knows the gang. “Not the Mexican or the Indian negro or the Irishman or the O’Driscoll. The old drunk or the angry drunk or the sailor. The magician or the priest or the German. All them safe if you just get Dutch out in the open. Alone.”

Arthur pauses a moment, thinking about all those people and their potential safety. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally replies.

“Did Dutch tell you what a busy boy he was while you were away? Of did he keep what he did from you?” Milton continues with a smirk on his face. “Did he talk about the girl he murdered in cold blood in Blackwater? Or how about the train he robbed belonging to Leviticus Cornwall, killing all the crew. Did he even mention that he killed half of Strawberry, including lawmen and citizens?”

Arthur listens on. He knows what Milton is trying to do. He’s trying to get Arthur to turn on Dutch. And while all those things that he was talking about are troubling, Arthur isn’t about to betray the man he sees as a father without at least getting his side of things.

“I haven’t seen Dutch in months, so he ain’t told me nothin’,” Arthur continues to lie.

Milton lets out an angry breath through his flared nostrils. “Then I’ll have to go back to my original plan. I’m going to take the girl and see if Dutch comes for her.”

Arthur immediately draws his pistol causing Ross to aim his shotgun in Arthur’s direction.

“That ain’t gonna happen,” Arthur growls.

“Put the gun down,” Ross demands, but Arthur doesn’t take his eyes off Milton.

“If you know so much about me,” Arthur starts in a low tone,” then you know I ain’t exactly a slow draw. You really think your man can get a shot off before I put a bullet in your brain?”

Milton chuckles under his breath, trying to hide his nervousness upon hearing that statement. After making his decision on what to do, he takes a step forward. “Until next time, Mr. Morgan.” He and Ross start to walk over to their horses. “Miss Van Der Linde,” he tips his hat to her before mounting his horse and leaving.

“What was all that?” Emmeline asks once the pair of men are out of sight.

Arthur finally holsters his gun once the threat is gone. “Grab some clothes.” He turns to cut Miss Susie loose from the wagon.

“Who were they?”

“Emma, go pack a bag,” he says more forcefully. “We gotta go. Now.”

“Was that all true?” she chokes out.

Arthur walks over to her, laying his hands on her shoulders so she’ll listen to him. “Please, Emma. I’ll tell you everything once we get safe. I promise. But we gotta leave. They might be back with more men and I ain’t letting them take you.”

She finally nods, realizing that Arthur is deadly serious right now. After running inside to shove some clothes into her saddlebag, she comes back out to Arthur saddling up Miss Susie.

“We’re gonna be riding all day.” He takes the bag from Emmeline and secures it to the saddle. “If ya need to take a rest, we will. But if we can keep riding... I’d just rather make sure those lawmen aren’t on our tail.”

Emmeline doesn’t fight him and allows him to help her up in the saddle.

Arthur looks up at her. “Just keep up with me, okay? I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you.” His eyes fall to her stomach before he turns away to mount Sparrow. Just a few moments later, they ride off, though Emmeline doesn’t know what the destination is.